The Lost Train of Thought Read Online Free Page B

to vote or drive a car in his own world was confronted by the intractable Rules of another. Did Becker Drane break these Rules? Of course he did. Did he violate the ‘granddaddy of ’em all’? Without a doubt. But in my opinion, that is not what we are here to decide.”
    “What then?” said Dominic Dozenski, anxious to be told what to do.
    “What we’re here to decide is what we, the people of The Seems, are going to do when the letter of the law and its spirit are at odds.” Samuel dropped his foot back to the floor and gazed at the teenager who sat by himself in a small box at the front of the room. “And I for one cannot make that decision without hearing from the Fixer himself.”
    “Um . . .”
    Realizing that everyone in the court was now intently staring at him, Becker stopped in mid-stroke and turned to a blank page in his Briefing Pad. The last thing he wanted anyone to see— especially at this point in the trial— was that the entire time he’d been on the stand, he had not been recording the opinions offered on or against his behalf. Nor had he been taking “notes to self” on case law for a potential appeal. Rather, he’d been pleasantly sketching the initials “J” and “K” in every conceivable combination and pattern.
    “Fixer Drane.” Eve Hightower laid her gavel back down on the bench and focused her piercing brown eyes upon the kid from Highland Park, New Jersey. “If you would like to make a statement on your own behalf, now would be the time.”
    By and large, Becker had kept his head down during the trial, both on his lawyer’s advice and because this whole thing was really embarrassing. But when the Fixer brushed aside his lengthy bangs and scanned the courtroom, he was soothed by the sight of friendly faces smiling back.
    Over there was Johnny Z, program director of radio station WDOZ, whom Becker had swapped mixes with ever since his first Mission to the Department of Sleep. And over there was Mellow, the barista at the Magic Hour coffee shop, who’d been sneaking Becker day-old scones long before he came to her rescue when the Time Bomb exploded. Flip Orenz had snuck away from the lunch rush at The Flip Side to lend his support, while leaning on his janitor’s mop was Brooks, Becker’s connection in The Know, who clenched a fist as if to say, “We’re with you, bro.”
    “Well, I’m not going to lie to everybody,” Becker said as he loosened his paisley tie. “I’m pretty much guilty as charged.”
    A low rumble went through the hall, but seemed to soften the mood.
    “Talk to any Fixer who’s ever gone on a Mission and he’ll tell you the same thing— if it comes down to saving The World or breaking the Rules, I’m gonna save The World every time. But obviously, the same logic doesn’t apply to why I broke the Golden . . .”
    Since Becker’s fellow Fixers had been asked to recuse themselves, a handful of Briefers and Candidates had jumped at the front-row seats marked “reserved for IFR.” All of them were shaking their heads at Becker, trying and failing to get him to change the direction of his testimony.
    “I wish I could say I did it for some important reason or because I was trying to make a political statement, but the truth is, that had nothing to do with it.”
    Samuel Hightower leaned forward and asked the question that was on everybody’s tongue. “Then why, son? Why did you do it?”
    “I guess . . .” Becker flushed red and felt like he wanted to puke, but he had little choice other than to throw himself on the mercy of the court. “I guess because I really like this girl.”
    There was no response from the crowd, other than an instinctive turning toward Samuel, whose voice for so many years had been the most important in The Seems. For his part, the former Second in Command just sat back down on his chair and concluded:
    “That’s good enough for me.”
    Becker might’ve caught the present Second in Command rolling her eyes— just like