“So you’re saying the voices in your head started after your epileptic surgery?” The man’s voice was bland and disinterested. Seeming to take the interview as a checkbox on his list of duties.
He thinks you are nuts.
“Yes, sir.”
Bobby sat slouched in the hard wooden chair. The small room’s harsh light amplified by the stark white walls and the gloss of the mottled linoleum flooring. The man, his court appointed lawyer, sat across the table from Bobby shuffling through the court reports and handwritten notes that were neatly arranged in front of him.
The man pulled a page out of his personal notes pile, referred to it briefly and spoke again, “You think that the Epi-chip has a virus?”
I’m NOT a virus. I’m as real as anyone in this room.
“That’s one explanation, sir.”
“Is that the one I should take seriously?”
Is this meat sack the best the local government can afford?
“That’s the best of the bunch, sir. If you don’t go with ‘totally insane’.”
You’re not helping your own cause.
“Considering what I have to work with here,” the lawyer looks up from his notes and looks Bobby in the eyes. “Bobby, I have notes and court papers here documenting your behavior and you claim they are coming from voices. Voices, that you claim, have taught you how to move objects telepathically. An insanity plea is my most logical choice.”
He’s going to let you hang, Bobby. Get a new lawyer.
“I completely understand, sir.”
“So what’s Daniel saying about me?”
Hey, this guy knows?
“Excuse me, sir?”
“You don’t hide it well enough. You look like you are having two conversations at once.”
Hmm…He’s sharper than he dresses. I like this guy now.
“Daniel doesn’t think you’ll mount a proper defense for me, sir”
“Heh. Just remember, son. Daniel doesn’t know everything.”
Huh?!
“Uh, I don’t follow you, sir.”
Taps side of head. “Some Daniel’s are built better than others, son”
