My favorite sequence is the final fight scene. In it, our protagonist, Cloud, terminates the town villain. That character obviously represents the primary illness in this world, the entity formerly known as United States, a ding-a-ling organization that can’t seem to catch the bad men. And it eats tapes and otherwise defiles its environment.
So the malefactor of that scene starts off kind of cocky. He gives a little laugh, as if to say, “Hmhm! Here comes that Chris King Pop Icon. I’ll show him!”
And all it takes is one clang of their swords to change the game entirely! “Huh. Not bad, Mister King.” Mais zut alors! Cloud’s sword has been flung apart! By our malefactor’s own strike! Now he’s trapped!
And Cloud goes to work! Strike after strike after strike, it’s death by a thousand cuts! First this way and then that! The jurisdiction is so stupid that it doesn’t even know where the next attack is coming from! And all that idiot jurisdiction can do now is grunt like an ape! It can’t even speak now! It can only vocalize, like a shriek to the other apes in the jungle for help! He’s under attack! Come quick! “Unh!”
(That’s all your jurisdiction can muster now: a pathetic and helpless simian shriek of ‘Unh!’ I’m not sure that constitutes speaking at all, much less the speaking of law.)
I do not envy you your job. I had a friend once who worked as a salesman at an electronics store. He knew full well that the store was going out of business and that the doors would be padlocked in about a month. But the store offered an in-house warranty on all the electronics. So he had to continue trying to sell electronics to the customers, knowing full well that the store wouldn’t exist soon. He absolutely hated working there, now that he knew that his product could only be a total fraud and that he had been reduced to just taking hapless customers for a ride.
I imagine it’s a surreal experience, sitting there in your robe every day, looking at the hapless in your courtroom, well-meaning folks who don’t yet know that the entity no longer constitutes a jurisdiction. It’s like it’s our own little secret! You and me and Leahy and Roberts and Madam Prosecutor and, most important of all, the Future People –those future audience members not yet in their seats.
Oh, they’ll trickle in, most assuredly. It is the nature of the passage of time: future people necessarily become present people. All you have to do is sit there and scrutinize your fingernails and wait. Waiting is the easy part.
It is only a matter of time. There is no perfect seal to keep out information. No gasket will forever keep out the rain. Eventually the seal fails. Information cannot be contained. Your Kook Law Containment Field is for naught. First it’s a drip, then a trickle. Then a rivulet and then a torrent, the leak increasing exponentially until no one can even remember that a seal ever existed.
The inexorable force of truth cannot be held back.
Executing the United States Government by speaking was fun. It’s my finest piece yet.
P.S. If you can prevail upon that idiot organization to power down my Kook Law Containment Field so that I can get on with my stand-up comedy career at long last, I will do what I can to save the jurisdiction. No guarantees, but I will, in good faith, try to salvage what I can –you know, broker accords among elements of that fractured jurisdiction to put it back together. As I’ve said before, why go to the trouble of reinventing the wheel?
But if I am inconvenienced into having to wait until that seal completely fails, which it will, I promise you that I will not speak a single word in defense of that jurisdiction. I’ll just stand back and fold my arms and smile as it collapses into a million shards.
The choice is yours. I’ll give that jurisdiction one week to make it.