The Quantum Gamble
Darkness gave way to consciousness, confusion, and fear. My arms and legs were strapped to a leather chair. I sat across the table from a media judge in a studio confession chamber, robotic cameras peering at me through the darkness.
“We’re live again in twenty seconds,” the judge said.
“What?” I asked behind pounding heartbeats.
A wall-sized display panel behind the judge showed the still video frame of an elderly man sitting on a park bench.
“Three, two, one, and … we’re back with Ultranet marketing mogul and murder suspect Paul Freeman…”
“What?!” Suspect meant guilty. A murder charge meant I was dead. “Hold on …” I tried to protest.
A hubbub of laughs and whispers arose from the audience in the darkened studio behind me. “He doesn’t remember!” someone announced with glee.
“Order!” the judge demanded, placing a heavy black revolver on the table. He wouldn’t use it before a decision was reached.
I struggled to breathe. A name came to me: Decker.
“The victim was none other than controversial quantum physicist Alan Decker,” the judge continued. “He entertained us with theories of time and the power of collective consciousness.”
The audience fluttered with mild applause.
“Some called it scientific slight-of-hand, but there’s nothing theoretical about what happened to him last week.”
The display screen showed a live close-up of my wide-eyed, bewildered face, and minimized it to a top-right, picture-in-picture frame, Doctor Decker on park bench in the forefront.
“You’ve all seen the gruesome photos of the incident,” the judge said. “The dismemberment, the maniacal blood lust. A guilty verdict is inevitable. It’s time for you – the Ultranet jury – to render an official decision with this exclusive video evidence – filmed by the sadistic murderer himself and left behind for all to view.”
In the midst of thunderous applause I marveled at the magnitude of the spectacle despite my imminent peril: two celebrities, a hideous crime, and solid evidence. My execution would score billions of hits and set the Ultranet on fire.
“Again, the kind of extreme violence in this video should only be viewed by tax-paying citizens of legal age,” the judge declared with theatrical sobriety. “Without further delay, behold the evidence, and let the polling begin!”
A sidebar of popular insta-news agencies scrolled down the left side of the display, each with its own innocent-guilty, live-feed pivot bar. I steadied my facial expression. It would be my only defense.
The video began with the professor eating lunch on a sunny day in a park. A bead of sweat rolled down my face in real time. The cameras caught it and guilt meters pegged red for all agencies.
“Here comes the murderer,” the judge narrated the video. “This is hard to watch,” he added, but no one appeared on the scene. Doctor Decker continued eating his sandwich. It became evident that something was amiss in the studio, and the judge signaled his staff.
The frame slow-zoomed to the professor. He dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief and smiled. “Hello world,” he began. “You are witnessing the successful outcome of a most remarkable experiment. In this version I am alive and well. Paul, thank you for your distribution expertise. I’m sure the authorities will find no reason to keep you detained.”
END
THANKS FOR READING! This is part of a forthcoming series of Twenty-Nine Flash Fiction Stories examining the oddities of working in the modern world.
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