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Attention, the black woman speaks into the microphone again. She
wants to deliver a message from upstairs to all of us. Mon Dieu,
this woman could be a prophetess! If I heard correctly --the system breaks up regularly--, we have finally been called by a judge, a female magistrate. She exists now within these walls --not at home watching dirty movies. We must go up to the eleventh floor to meet her. Let's go then. Hopefully, this is the end of the longest pause. It's way past the eleventh hour. Did anyone push the button? Thank you, Sir, you're very mindful. We must never take the coming of the elevators for granted. Although, some day, elevators --and possibly toilets too-- will have ears and eyes to find us. That's enough people for this car, Sir. Besides, you look like you wanna fart. Go away! No, this has nothing to do with your old wrinkled face, I swear. Again, thank you for pressing the button. Up we go. You smell very good, my dear. Nice ride. I like it quiet like this. That's a different book you carry now. William Z. Ripley's "The races of Europe," eh? Yes, you may be driving that mind of yours a bit too hard. I feel at times that we have far-too- many racists of all colors and far-too-few individuals. Of course, you can be any thing you want: this is an experimental free country. The eleventh floor. More or less as planned, all forty or fifty of us have descended on the lobby from three or four elevators at roughly the same time. Co¤o, they need a lot of people to select a twelve-member jury! Is it fair to say that inefficiency is another cost of justice? Can you predict what would happen should all our criminals rashly decide to repent and become law-abiding citizens? We'd have a tremendous crisis in our hands: the judges, the lawyers, the clerks, the secretaries, the guards, the maintenance workers and the administrators would loose their jobs and a lot of empty buildings would probably have to be filled with the homeless -- which is disturbingly uneconomic. And, given the necessary levels of unemployment, it would be impossible to place the ex-convicts and the uprooted justice system workers. We could plunge into a depression... Who's that woman waiting for us with a list in her hand? She must be a clerk. She wants us to form a line per her roster immediately. Must she crack a joke every time she calls a name? Forgive me, I may have misplaced my sense of humor during the four hour wait. But, judging by the laughter of the other potential jurors, you must conclude that she's very funny. I'm in line. She plans to sit each one of us in a specific seat to help the attorneys during the selection process. Fine. I can't stand her witticism any more. And you frown because you don't find her humorous either. In at last (sounds like a second date)! The courtroom is not very well lit. Are lies easier to tell in dusky places? Oh, relax, the temperature is right and the chairs are comfortable here! Is homo sapiens a hybrid of apes and spacemen? Where are you now? There, you went on to the jury box with the other thirteen who came in front. I'm in the second row, behind the attorneys who hope to reshape the world in their ugly and cynical image.
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