The Cyber and Justice Holmes
Date: 2019-03-29T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science fiction; Short stories; Judges -- Fiction; Artificial intelligence -- Fiction; Trials -- Fiction

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Title: The Cyber and Justice Holmes

Author: Frank Riley

Illustrator: Paul Orban

Release date: March 29, 2019 [eBook #59148]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CYBER AND JUSTICE HOLMES ***

THE CYBER and JUSTICE HOLMES

BY FRANK RILEY

Old Judge Anderson feared the inevitable—he
was to be replaced by a Cyber! A machine that
dealt out decisions free of human errors and
emotions. What would Justice Holmes think?

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

"Cyber justice!" That's what the District Attorney had called it in his campaign speech last night.

"Cyber justice!"

Oh, hell!

Judge Walhfred Anderson threw the morning fax paper on top of the law books he had been researching for the past two hours, and stomped angrily across his chamber to the door of the courtroom.

But it was easier to throw away the paper than the image of the words:

"—and, if re-elected, I pledge to do all in my power to help replace human inefficiency with Cyber justice in the courts of this county!

"We've seen what other counties have done with Cyber judges. We've witnessed the effectiveness of cybernetic units in our own Appellate Division.... And I can promise you twice as many prosecutions at half the cost to the taxpayers ... with modern, streamlined Cyber justice!"

Oh, hell!

Walhfred Anderson caught a glimpse of his reflection in the oval mirror behind the coat rack. He paused, fuming, and smoothed down the few lingering strands of grey hair. The District Attorney was waiting for him out there. No use giving him the satisfaction of looking upset. Only a few moments ago, the Presiding Judge had visaphoned a warning that the D.A. had obtained a change of calendar and was going to spring a surprise case this morning....

The Judge cocked his bow tie at a jaunty angle, opened the neckline of his black robe enough for the pink boutonniere to peep out, and stepped into the courtroom as sprightly as his eighty-six years would permit.

The District Attorney was an ex-football player, square-shouldered and square-jawed. He propelled himself to his feet, bowed perfunctorily and remained standing for the Pledge of Allegiance.

As the bailiff's voice repeated the pledge in an unbroken monotone, Walhfred Anderson allowed his eyes to wander to the gold-framed picture of his personal symbol of justice, Oliver Wendell Holmes. Judge Anderson winked at Justice Holmes. It was a morning ritual he had observed without fail for nearly fifty years.

This wasn't the classic picture of Justice Holmes. Not the leonine figure Walhfred Anderson had once seen in the National Gallery. The Justice Holmes on the wall of Judge Anderson's courtroom was much warmer and more human than the official portrait. It was from an old etching that showed the Justice wearing a natty grey fedora. The Justice's fabled mustaches were long and sweeping, giving him the air of a titled playboy, but his eyes were the eyes of the man who had said: "When I am dying, my last words will be—have faith and pursue the unknown end."

Those were good words to remember, when you were eighty-six. Walhfred Anderson stared wistfully at the yellowed etching, waiting for some other dearly remembered phrase to spring up between them. But Justice Holmes wasn't communicative this morning. He hadn't been for a long time.

The District Attorney's voice, threaded with sarcasm, broke into his reverie:

"If the Court pleases, I would like to call up the case of People vs. Professor Neustadt."

Walhfred Anderson accepted the file from his aging, nearsighted clerk. He saw that the case had been assigned originally to Department 42. It was the case he had been warned about by the Presiding Judge.

Walhfred Anderson struggled to focus all his attention on the complaint before him. His craggy features, once described as resembling a benign bulldog, grew rigid with concentration. The Judge had a strong sense of honor about dividing his attention in Court. A case was not just a case; it was a human being whose past, present and future were wrapped up in the charge against him.

"Your Honor," the District Attorney broke in, impatiently, "if the Court will permit, I can summarize this case very quickly...."

The tone of his voice implied:

A Cyber judge would speed things up around here. Feed the facts into the proprioceptor, and they'd be stored and correlated instantly.

Perhaps so, Walhfred Anderson thought, suddenly tired, though the morning was still young. At eighty-six you couldn't go on fighting and resisting much longer. Maybe he should resign, and listen to the speeches at a farewell luncheon, and let a Cyber take over. The Cybers were fast. They ruled swiftly and surely on points of law. They separated fact from fallacy. They were not led down side avenues of justice by human frailty. Their vision was not blurred by emotion. And yet ... Judge Anderson looked to Justice Holmes for a clarifying thought, but the Justice's eyes were opaque, inscrutable.

Judge Anderson wearily settled back in his tall chair, bracing the ache in his back against the leather padding.

"You may proceed," he told the District Attorney.

"Thank you, your Honor."

This time the edge of sarcasm was so sharp that the Clerk and Court Stenographer looked up indignantly, expecting one of the Judge's famous retorts.

The crags in the Judge's face deepened, but he remained quiet.

With a tight smile, the District Attorney picked up his notebook.

"The defendant," he began crisply, "is charged on three counts of fraud under Section 31...."

"To wit," rumbled Judge Anderson, restlessly.

"To wit," snapped the D.A., "the defendant is charged with giving paid performances at a local theatre, during which he purported to demonstrate that he could take over Cyber functions and perform them more efficiently."

Walhfred Anderson felt the door closing on him. So this was why the D.A. had requested a change of calendar! What a perfect tie-in with the election campaign! He swiveled to study the defendant.

Professor Neustadt was an astonishingly thin little man; the bones of his shoulders seemed about to thrust through the padding of his cheap brown suit. His thinness, combined with a tuft of white hair at the peak of his forehead, gave him the look of a scrawny bird.

"Our investigation of this defendant," continued the D.A., "showed that his title was assumed merely for stage purposes. He has been associated with the less creditable phases of show business for many years. In his youth, he gained considerable attention as a 'quiz kid', and later, for a time, ran his own program and syndicated column. But his novelty wore off, and he apparently created this cybernetic act to...."

Rousing himself to his judicial responsibility, Judge Anderson interrupted:

"Is the defendant represented by counsel?"

"Your Honor," spoke up Professor Neustadt, in a resonant, bass voice that should have come from a much larger diaphragm, "I request the Court's permission to act as my own attorney."

Walhfred Anderson saw the D.A. smile, and he surmised that the old legal truism was going through his mind: A man who defends himself has a fool for a client.

"If it's a question of finances," the Judge rumbled gently.

"It is not a question of finances. I merely wish to defend myself."

Judge Anderson was annoyed, worried. Whoever he was or claimed to be, this Professor was evidently something of a crackpot. The D.A. would tear him to small pieces, and twist the whole case into an implicit argument for Cyber judges.

"The defendant has a right to act as his own counsel," the D.A. reminded him.

"The Court is aware of that," retorted the Judge. Only the restraining eye of Oliver Wendell Holmes kept him from cutting loose on the D.A. But one more remark like that, and he'd turn his back on the Justice. After all, what right had Holmes to get stuffy at a time like this? He'd never had to contend with Cyber justice!

He motioned to the D.A. to continue with the People's case, but the Professor spoke up first:

"Your Honor, I stipulate to the prosecution evidence."

The D.A. squinted warily.

"Is the defendant pleading guilty?"

"I am merely stipulating to the evidence. Surely the prosecution knows the difference between a stipulation and a plea! I am only trying to save the time of the Court by stipulating to the material facts in the complaint against me!"

The D.A. was obviously disappointed in not being able to present his case. Walhfred Anderson repressed an urge to chuckle. He wondered how a Cyber judge would handle a stipulation.

"Do you have a defense to present?" he asked the Professor.

"Indeed I do, your Honor! I propose to bring a Cyber into the courtroom and prove that I can perform its functions more efficiently!"

The D.A. flushed.

"What kind of a farce is this? We've watched the defendant's performance for several days, and it's perfectly clear that he is merely competing against his own special Cyber unit, one with very limited memory storage capacity...."

"I propose further," continued Professor Neustadt, ignoring the D.A., "that the prosecution bring any Cyber unit of its choice into Court. I am quite willing to compete against any Cyber yet devised!"

This man was not only a crackpot, he was a lunatic, thought Walhfred Anderson with an inward groan. No one but a lunatic would claim he could compete with the memory storage capacity of a Cyber.

As always when troubled, he looked toward Oliver Wendell Holmes for help, but the Justice was still inscrutable. He certainly was being difficult this morning!

The Judge sighed, and began a ruling:

"The procedure suggested by the defendant would fail to answer to the material counts of the complaint...."

But, as he had expected, the D.A. did not intend to let this opportunity pass.

"May it please the Court," said the District Attorney, with a wide grin for the fax reporter, "the people will stipulate to the defense, and will not press for trial of the complaint if the defendant can indeed compete with a Cyber unit of our choice."

Walhfred Anderson glowered at the unsympathetic Justice Holmes. Dammit, man, he thought, don't be so calm about this whole thing. What if you were sitting here, and I was up there in a gold frame? Aloud, he hedged:

"The Court does not believe such a test could be properly and fairly conducted."

"I am not concerned with being fairly treated," orated the wispy Professor. "I propose that five questions or problems be posed to the Cyber and myself, and that we be judged on both the speed and accuracy of our replies. I am quite willing for the prosecution to select the questions."

Go to hell, Holmes, thought Judge Anderson. I don't need you anyway. I've got the answer. The Professor is stark, raving mad.

Before he could develop a ruling along this line, the grinning D.A. had accepted the Professor's terms.

"I have but one condition," interposed the defendant, "if I win this test, I would like to submit a question of my own to the Cyber."

The D.A. hesitated, conferred in a whisper with his assistant, then shrugged.

"We so stipulate."

Firmly, Walhfred Anderson turned his back on Oliver Wendell Holmes.

"In the opinion of the Court," he thundered, "the proposed demonstration would be irrelevant, immaterial and without substantive basis in law. Unless the People proceed with their case in the proper manner, the Court will dismiss this complaint!"

"Objection!"

"Objection!"

The word was spoken simultaneously by both the D.A. and the Professor. Then the defendant bowed toward the District Attorney, and asked him to continue.

For one of the few times in his life, Walhfred Anderson found himself faced with the same objection, at the same time, from both prosecution and defense. What a morning! He felt like turning the court over to a Cyber judge right here and now, and stomping back to his chambers. Let Holmes try getting along with a Cyber!

The D.A.'s voice slashed into his thoughts.

"The People object on the grounds that there is ample precedent in law for the type of court demonstration to which we have agreed...."

"For example," spoke up the Professor, "People vs. Borth, 201 N.Y., Supp. 47—"

The District Attorney blinked, and looked wary again.

"The People are not familiar with the citation," he said, "but there is no reason to be in doubt. The revised Judicial Code of Procedure provides for automatic and immediate review of disputed points of law by the Cyber Appellate Division."

CAD! Walhfred Anderson customarily used every legal stratagem to avoid the indignity of appearing before CAD. But now he was neatly trapped.

Grumbling, he visaphoned the Presiding Judge, and was immediately assigned to Cyber V, CAD, fourth floor.

Cyber V presided over a sunlit, pleasantly carpeted courtroom in the south wing of the Justice Building. Square, bulky, with mat black finish, the Cyber reposed in the center of a raised mahogany stand. Its screen and vocader grill looked austerely down on the long tables provided for opposing counsel.

As Walhfred Anderson belligerently led the Professor and the D.A. into the courtroom, Cyber V hummed softly. A dozen colored lights on its front grid began to blink.

Judge Anderson angrily repressed an instinct to bow, as he had done in his younger years when appearing to plead a case before a human Appellate Court.

The Cyber's soft, pleasantly modulated voice said:

"Please proceed."

Curbing his roiled feelings of rage and indignity, the Judge stepped to the stand in front of the vocader grill and tersely presented the facts of the case, the reasons for his ruling. Cyber V blinked and hummed steadily, assimilating and filing the facts.

The D.A. followed the Judge to the stand, and, from long habit, addressed Cyber V with the same emotion and voice tricks he would have used in speaking to a human judge. Walhfred Anderson grimaced with disgust.

When the D.A. finished, Cyber V hummed briefly, two amber lights flickered, and the soft voice said:

"Defense counsel will please take the stand."

Professor Neustadt smiled his ironic, exasperating smile.

"The defense stipulates to the facts as stated."

The frontal grid lights on Cyber V flashed furiously; the hum rose to a whine, like a motor accelerating for a steep climb.

Suddenly, all was quiet, and Cyber V spoke in the same soft, pleasant voice:

"There are three cases in modern jurisprudence that have direct bearing on the matter of People vs. Neustadt.

"Best known is the case of People vs. Borth, 201 N.Y., Supp. 47...."

Walhfred Anderson saw the D.A. stiffen to attention as the Cyber repeated the citation given by Professor Neustadt. He felt his own pulse surge with the stir of a faint, indefinable hope.

"There are also the cases of Forsythe vs. State, 6 Ohio, 19, and Murphy vs. U.S., 2d, 85 C.C.A.

"These cases establish precedence for a courtroom demonstration to determine points of material fact.

"Thank you, Gentlemen."

The voice stopped. All lights went dark. Cyber V, CAD, had rendered its decision.

Whatever misgivings the D.A. may have generated over the Professor's display of legal knowledge were overshadowed now by his satisfaction at this display of Cyber efficiency.

"Eight minutes!" he announced triumphantly. "Eight minutes to present the facts of the case and obtain a ruling. There's efficiency for you! There's modern courtroom procedure!"

Walhfred Anderson felt the weight of eighty-six years as he cocked the angle of his bow tie, squared his shoulders and led the way back to his own courtroom. Maybe the new way was right. Maybe he was just an old man, burdened with dreams, memories, the impedimentia of human emotions. It would have taken him many long, weary hours to dig out those cases. Maybe the old way had died with Holmes and the other giants of that era.

Details of the demonstration were quickly concluded. The D.A. selected a Cyber IX for the test. Evidently he had acquired a new respect for Professor Neustadt and was taking no chances. Cyber IX was a massive new model, used as an intergrator by the sciences. Judge Anderson had heard that its memory storage units were the greatest yet devised.

If Professor Neustadt had also heard this, he gave no sign of it. He made only a slight, contemptuous nod of assent to the D.A.'s choice.

For an instant, the Judge found himself hoping that the Professor would be beaten into humility by Cyber IX. The man's attitude was maddening.

Walhfred Anderson banged his gavel harder than necessary, and recessed the hearing for three days. In the meantime, a Cyber IX was to be moved into the courtroom and placed under guard. Professor Neustadt was freed on bail, which he had already posted.

Court fax-sheet reporters picked up the story and ballooned it. The D.A.'s office released publicity stories almost hourly. Cartoonists created "Battle of the Century" illustrations, with Cyber IX and Professor Neustadt posed like fighters in opposite corners of the ring. "Man challenges machine" was the caption, indicating that the Professor was a definite underdog and thus the sentimental favorite. One court reporter confided to Judge Anderson that bookmakers were offering odds of ten to one on Cyber IX.

To the Judge's continuing disgust, Professor Neustadt seemed as avid as the Prosecutor's office for publicity. He allowed himself to be guest-interviewed on every available television show; one program dug up an ancient film of the Professor as a quiz kid, extracting cube roots in a piping, confident voice.

Public interest boiled. TV coverage of the court test was demanded, and eagerly agreed to by both the Prosecutor and Professor Neustadt. Walhfred Anderson ached to cry out against bringing a carnival atmosphere into his courtroom; the fax photographers were bad enough. But he knew that any attempt to interfere would bring him back before that infernal CAD.

When he entered his courtroom on the morning of the trial, the Judge wore a new bow tie, a flippant green, but he felt like many a defendant he had watched step up before his bench to receive sentence. After this morning, there'd be no stopping the D.A.'s campaign for Cyber judges. He glared unhappily at the battery of television cameras. He noted that one of them was pointed at Oliver Wendell Holmes. The Justice didn't seem to mind; but who would—all safe and snug in a nice gold frame? Easy enough for Holmes to look so cocky.

The bright lights hurt his eyes, and he had to steel himself in order to present the picture of dignified equanimity that was expected of a judge. People would be looking at him from every part of the world. Five hundred million viewers, one of the columnists had estimated.

Professor Neustadt appeared in the same shiny brown suit. As he passed the huge Cyber IX unit, metallic gray and mounted on a table of reinforced steel, the Professor paused and bowed, in the manner of a courtly gladiator saluting a respected foe. Spectators clapped and whistled their approval. Television cameras zoomed in on the scene. With easy showmanship, Professor Neustadt maintained the pose for closeups, his owlish eyes wide and unblinking.

Judge Anderson banged his gavel for order. What a poseur! What a fraud! This charlatan would get a million dollars worth of publicity out of the case.

At a nod from the D.A., the bailiff gave Professor Neustadt a pad of paper on which to note his answers. It had been previously been agreed that Cyber IX would answer visually, on the screen, instead of by vocader. The Professor was seated at the far end of the counsel table, where he could not see the screen. Clerks with stopwatches were stationed behind the Professor and Cyber IX.

"Is the defendant ready?" inquired Judge Anderson, feeling like an idiot.

"Of course."

The Judge turned to Cyber IX, then caught himself. He flushed. The courtroom tittered.

The District Attorney had five questions, each in a sealed envelope, which also contained an answer certified by an eminent authority in the field.

With a flourish, keeping his profile to the cameras, the D.A. handed the first envelope to Judge Anderson.

"We'll begin with a simple problem in mathematics," he announced to the TV audience.

From the smirk in his voice, Judge Anderson was prepared for the worst. But he read the question with a perverse sense of satisfaction. This Professor was in for a very rough morning. He cleared his throat, read aloud:

"In analyzing the economics of atomic power plant operation, calculate the gross heat input for a power generating plant of 400 x 10^6 watts electrical output."

Cyber IX hummed into instantaneous activity; its lights flashed in sweeping curves and spirals across the frontal grid.

Professor Neustadt sat perfectly still, eyes closed. Then he scribbled something on a pad of paper.

Two stopwatches clicked about a second apart. The clerk handed the Professor's slip of paper to Judged Anderson. The Judge checked it, turned to the screen. Both answers were identical:

3,920 x 10^6 BTU/hr.

Time was announced as fourteen seconds for Cyber IX; fifteen and three-tenths seconds for Professor Neustadt. The Cyber had won the first test, but by an astoundingly close margin. The courtroom burst into spontaneous applause for the Professor. Walhfred Anderson was incredulous. What a fantastic performance!

No longer smirking, the D.A. handed the Judge a second envelope.

"What is the percentage compressibility of caesium under 45,000 atmospheres of pressure, and how do you account for it?"

Once again Cyber IX hummed and flickered into action.

And once again Professor Neustadt sat utterly still, head tilted back like an inquisitive parakeet. Then he wrote swiftly. A stopwatch clicked.

Walhfred Anderson took the answer with trembling fingers. He saw the D.A. rub dry lips together, try to moisten them with a dry tongue. A second stopwatch clicked.

The Judge compared the correct answer with the Professor's answer and the answer on the screen. All were worded differently, but in essence were the same. Hiding his emotion in a tone gruffer than usual, Judge Anderson read the Professor's answer:

"The change in volume is 17 percent. It is due to an electronic transition for a 6s zone to a 5d zone."

The Professor's elapsed time was 22 seconds. Cyber IX had taken 31 seconds to answer the compound question.

Professor Neustadt pursued his lips; he seemed displeased with his tremendous performance.

Moving with the agility of a pallbearer, the D.A. gave Judge Anderson the third question:

"In twenty-five words or less, state the Nernst Law of thermodynamics."

This was clearly a trick question, designed to trap a human mind in its own verbiage.

Cyber IX won, in eighteen seconds. But in just two-fifths of a second more; Professor Neustadt came through with a brilliant twenty-four word condensation:

"The entropy of a substance becomes zero at the absolute zero of temperature, provided it is brought to this temperature by a reversible process."

A tabulation of total elapsed time revealed that Professor Neustadt was leading by nine and three-tenths seconds.

A wild excitement blended with the Judge's incredulity. The D.A. seemed to have developed a tic in his right check.

On the fourth question, dealing with the structural formula similarities of dimenhydrinate and diphenhydramine hydrochloride, Professor Neustadt lost three seconds.

On the fifth question, concerning the theoretical effects of humidity inversion on microwave transmission, the Professor gained back a full second.

The courtroom was bedlam, and Walhfred Anderson was too excited to pound his gavel. In the glass-walled, soundproofed television booths, announcers grew apoplectic as they tried to relay the fever-pitch excitement of the courtroom to the outside world.

Professor Neustadt held up his bone-thin hand for silence.

"May it please the Court.... The District Attorney agreed that in the event of victory I could ask Cyber IX an optional question. I would like to do so at this time."

Judge Anderson could only nod, and hope that his bulldog features were concealing his emotions. The D.A. kept his back rigidly to the television cameras.

Professor Neustadt strutted up to Cyber IX, flipped on the vocader switch and turned to the cameras.

"Since Cyber IX is essentially a scientific integrator and mathematical unit," he began pedantically, "I'll put my question in the Cyber's own framework. Had another Cyber been selected for this test, I would phrase my question differently."

He turned challengingly back to Cyber IX, paused for dramatic effect, and asked:

"What are the magnitudes of a dream?"

Cyber IX hummed and twinkled. The hum rose higher and higher. The lights flickered in weird, disjointed patterns, blurring before the eye.

Abruptly, the hum stopped. The lights dimmed, faded one by one.

The eternally calm, eternally pleasant voice of Cyber IX spoke from the vocader grill:

"Problem unsolved."

For an interminable instant there was silence in the courtroom. Complete silence. Stunned incredulity. It was followed by a collective gasp, which Walhfred Anderson could hear echoing around the world. Cyber IX had been more than beaten; it had failed to solve a problem.

The gasp gave way to unrestrained cheering.

But the Professor brought quiet again by raising his bony hand. Now there was a strange, incongruous air of dignity about his thin figure.

"Please," he said, "please understand one thing.... The purpose of this demonstration and my question was not to discredit Cyber IX, which is truly a great machine, a wonder of science.

"Cyber IX could not know the magnitudes of a dream ... because it cannot dream.

"As a matter of fact, I do not know the magnitudes of a dream, but that is not important ... because I can dream!

"The dream is the difference.... The dream born in man, as the poet said, 'with a sudden, clamorous pain' ..."

There was no movement or sound in the courtroom. Walhfred Anderson held the Professor's last written answer between his fingers, as if fearing that even the small movement to release it might shatter something delicate and precious. "The dream is the difference!" There it was. So clear and true and beautiful. He looked at Holmes, and Holmes seemed to be smiling under his gray mustache. Yes, Holmes had known the dream.

In the sound-proof booths, the announcers had stopped speaking; all mike lines were open to carry Professor Neustadt's words to five hundred million people.

"Perhaps there are no magnitudes of such a dream ... no coordinates! Or it may be that we are not yet wise enough to know them. The future may tell us, for the dream is the rainbow bridge from the present and the past to the future."

Professor Neustadt's eyes were half-closed again, and his head was cocked back, bird-like.

"Copernicus dreamed a dream.... So did da Vinci, Galileo and Newton, Darwin and Einstein ... all so long ago....

"Cyber IX has not dreamed a dream.... Nor have Cyber VIII, VII, VI, V, IV, III, II, I.

"But they can free men to dream.

"Remember that, if you forget all else: They can free men to dream!

"Man's knowledge has grown so vast that much of it would be lost or useless without the storage and recall capacity of the Cybers—and man himself would be so immersed in what he knows that he would never have time to dream of that which he does not yet know, but must and can know.

"Why should not the scientist use the past without being burdened by it? Why should not the lawyer and the judge use the hard-won laws of justice without being the slave of dusty law books?"

Walhfred Anderson accepted the rebuke without wincing. The rebuke for all the hours he had wasted because he had been too stubborn to use a Cyber clerk, or consult Cyber V. The old should not resist the new, nor the new destroy the old. There was the letter of the law, and there was the spirit, and the spirit was the dream. What was old Hammurabi's dream? Holmes had quoted it once, "... to establish justice on the earth ... to hold back the strong from oppressing the feeble ... to shine like the sun-god upon the blackheaded men, and to illumine the land...." Holmes had dreamed the dream, all right. He had dreamed it grandly. But maybe there was room for small dreams, too, and still time for dreams when the years were so few and lonely.

The Professor suddenly opened his eyes, and his voice took on the twang of steel under tension.

"You are already wondering," he told the cameras accusingly, "whether I have not disproved my own words by defeating Cyber IX.

"That is not true.

"I defeated Cyber IX because I have wasted a man's life—my own! You all know that as a child I was a mnemonic freak, a prodigy, if you prefer. My mind was a filing cabinet, a fire-proof cabinet neatly filled with facts that could never kindle into dreams. All my life I have stuffed my filing cabinet. For sixty years I have filed and filed.

"And then I dreamed one dream—my first, last and only dream.

"I dreamed that man would mis-use another gift of science, as he has mis-used so many.... I dreamed of the Cybers replacing and enslaving man, instead of freeing man to dream.... And I dreamed that the golden hour would come when a man would have to prove that he could replace a Cyber—and thereby prove that neither man nor Cybers should ever replace each other."

Professor Neustadt turned to Judge Anderson, and his voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"Your Honor, I move that this case be dismissed."

The worn handle of his old teakwood gavel felt warm and alive to the Judge's fingers. He sat up straight, and banged resoundingly on the top of his desk.

"Case dismissed."

Then, in full view of the cameras, Walhfred Anderson turned and winked boldly at Oliver Wendell Holmes.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CYBER AND JUSTICE HOLMES ***

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