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Snippet #2808634

located in Government Center West Wing, a part of The Multiverse, one of the many universes on RPG.

Government Center West Wing

The West Wing houses overflow courtroom space, the Parliamentary Research Directorate, the Office of the Parliamentary Clerk, the Auxiliary Support Offices, the Government Center Police, and the General Staff.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Geraldine Batchelder-Lockerby Character Portrait: Netawatwees Olson
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Footnotes

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“The trouble isn’t the charges. It’s the optics of them.” Geraldine Batchelder-Lockerby, hair carefully coiffed to frame soft features, hardly turned to address her counterpart, who appeared at least a decade younger. They moved at speed through corridor, heels clicking on marble floors, both women dressed in freshly pressed, pristinely tailored dark suits.

“The optics? Gerry, I’m sorry, but we’ve long since crossed that bridge.” Attorney General Netawatwees Olson shook her head, long hair rippling as it moved about her back. “Prime Minister Khayyam was clear. Minister Vilhjálmsdóttir was clear. This is about restoring faith in our government. Culling the fold. Clearing the bramble bush. You catch my drift.”

The women were trailed by a pair of aides, exchanging hushed conversation amongst themselves. Most in Government Center’s West Wing knew not to interrupt, but even if the thought were to cross some young upstart’s mind, their fast pace was likely sufficient deterrent. In no time, they were at the elevator bank, Geraldine standing akimbo, Netawatwees tilting her head slightly to the side, holding a stack of files loosely.

“These defendants are all elderly. They’re heroes, to at least half of Terra anyway,” said Geraldine, lowering her voice as she stared directly at Netawatwees. “And besides, don’t you think Khayyam has a lot more to worry about than what Cranford’s appointees did two, three decades ago? Longer ago, even, for her.” Geraldine stepped in closer as Netawatwees pointedly pressed the up button. “Our government is falling apart. You know that as well as I do.”

“That’s not our department,” Netawatwees responded calmly. “Quite literally. We have a job to do, you and I. My job is to make sure this government follows its own laws. Your job is to prosecute those who have violated our criminal code. However long ago, if there is no statute of limitations. And last time I checked, for crimes like treason, crimes against humanity, and attempted murder, there is no statute of limitations. Hm?”

The elevator doors dinged open. “Ma’am?” One of the aides spoke cautiously, lifting her pencil like she was raising her hand in class.

“I understand that, and I abhor what these people did more than anyone,” said Geraldine. “I absolutely want them to face justice. But why is Khayyam asking us to prioritize these cases over everything else? Why is she personally directing what Justice does? She has the Terra Nova people practically at our door, Aschen Empire sympathizers flooding into Aslund, and a voting public that turns out less than five percent every election year.”

As they stepped inside the elevator, Netawatwees smiled grimly. “As I said, Gerry, that’s not our department. We have a job to do.”

“Ma’am.” The same aide spoke again, forcing a smile, as she squeezed into a corner of the elevator with the rest of the entourage.

“Doesn’t Khayyam have a job to do, too?” Geraldine said, raising her chin. “What about the fact that our entire judiciary is crumbling right in front of us? I’m starting to feel like my office is two steps away from becoming a punchline for a terrible joke at amateur night.”

“I’m well aware of the issues we’re facing,” Netawatwees said, her tone firm, her eyes narrowing slightly. The elevator began to rise, softly glowing digits announcing their ascent. “That’s why it’s even more important for us to keep doing what we need to do. We need to put on at least some display of normality. Routine. And we’ve succeeded in that. Your office has gone to trial two hundred times in the past year, and gotten convictions in forty percent of cases, acquittals in fifty, and mistrials in ten. That’s progress. It shows that we have a functioning legal system.”

“And of the other four thousand cases we had to drop for lack of evidence, lack of cooperation from the NPA or WCPD, or lack of personnel to staff them?” Geraldine crossed her arms, leaning back against the elevator walls.

“Ma’am.” The aide spoke more insistently.

The elevator dinged to announce their arrival, and the doors opened.

“Lilith, what?” Netawatwees finally looked at the aide.

“The Prime Minister’s office has been trying to call you the entire past hour. I have someone on the line now, waiting.” Lilith held up her phone.

Netawatwees took it, wordless, glancing at Geraldine, as they stepped off the elevator. “Yes?”

“Here we go again,” Geraldine said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I need to head out to Wrentham to speak with some of the defendants. This order about Malijin’s case really makes no sense at all.”

Netawatwees balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder, looking at Geraldine. “You’re right. I don’t understand it either. You should ask Vilhjálmsdóttir. Given what we know, well… I know we’re on the same page about this.” Turning back to the phone. “Yes, sorry, everything is on track. Perfect. Great. Thanks. Talk to you soon. Bye.” She handed the phone back to Lilith. Netawatwees sighed. “I’m sorry, Gerry. I don’t mean to sound dismissive or curt. But we’re all at the mercy of political reality right now. Just … different ones are taking precedence for each of us. You’ll do great at the press conference tomorrow. Keep me updated on the prison visits.”

“Will do.” Geraldine eyed Netawatwees warily as the attorney general turned to head the other way down the hall, Lilith trailing and already on another call herself. Geraldine turned to her own aide, Jordynne, who’d been staring down at her phone the entire walk from the downstairs office. “What do you think, Jordynne? You want to come out to Wrentham with me?”

The younger woman frowned, burying her head deeper in her phone. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been out that way before… Is it dangerous?”

“It can be, sure,” said Geraldine, “but no more dangerous than all of Wing City is already. You’ll be fine.”

Jordynne shrugged with one shoulder. “If you say so…”

“Let’s make it a learning experience.” Geraldine patted Jordynne’s shoulder. “You can help take notes for me. Come on.” Jordynne exhaled slowly. Geraldine offered an encouraging smile. “It’s not that bad. Most defendants are out on bail. There are only about a hundred inmates there at any given time, maybe two hundred, and some of them sometimes turn out to be innocent.” She pressed the button to go back down again, and they waited. Of course, someone else had to stop on every single floor in between.

“Not these ones, though,” Jordynne said, her voice so quiet Geraldine was tempted to lean down to hear. “These ones… they’re the heroes who turned out to be villains.”