Free Notes from a Coma by Mike McCormack Page B

to the point.”
    “Yes, Your Honour.” He turned back to face Owen. “He takes you into Thornton’s, into the front bar and buys you a pint. Just when you’re supping your pint and wondering what this is all about he pulls out a sheaf of notes and shows you your life. It’s all down there in black and white, your whole life in one long narrative. It contains every dreamand thought you’ve ever had, every hope and injury you’ve ever had, everything right down to the fillings in your teeth. It’s all there including the pint in front of you on the table, and the man across from you with the sheaf of notes who bought you the pint.” †
    “I’m getting dizzy. Where the hell is this going?”
    Owen’s patience was running out already, an angry heat flush rose over his cheekbones.
    “He has bad news for you.”
    “What sort of news?”
    “He’s come to tell you that you’ve failed.”
    “Failed what?”
    “You’ve failed generally. He doesn’t have to go into the details.”
    “Talk about broad strokes. Failed what, the whole human race I suppose?”
    JJ shrugged. “Yes, if you want, the human race, the mental handicap over a life and two furlongs. You’ve been a big disappointment. Certain people had expectations; you’ve failed to meet them and now they’re washing their hands of you.”
    Owen swung his feet off the couch and tipped more whiskey into the glass. He waved the bottle in a wide arc.
    “Back up a second. How do I know this fella is talking to the right fella? How does he know he’s talking to the right fella? I can’t just take him at his word.”
    “I’ve told you, he has your life story, everything about you down in black and white.”
    Owen shook his head. “He has nothing, it’s purely circumstantial, on its own it will never get a conviction.”
    “Not on its own, but he has the forensics to support it. You’ve been sloppy, you’ve left traces all over the place—fingerprints, dental impressions, retinal scans, genetic signatures … It all corroborates the written evidence.”
    Owen guffawed. “He could be showing me anything. My dental impressions—oh yes I’d recognise them anywhere … I don’t think so.”
    “What you recognise is neither here nor there. They can all be objectively verified. The margin of error in any single one of them is almost small enough to establish his case beyond reasonable doubt. All of them together pointing in the same direction … I’m afraid you’re fucked.”
    “Bollocks! And he’s only a bollocks as well.”
    I held up my hand. “The jury will disregard that last remark. Once more, counsel, and you will be in contempt.”
    “What about motive? So far the prosecution has failedto establish any reason for this whole charade. No motive whatsoever.”
    “You’ve forgotten … you’ve disappointed him.”
    “I’ll get over it, believe me.”
    “He’s not so forgiving. In fact, that is why he’s here. He’s here to punish you.”
    “He’s going to punish me? How’s he going to punish me? Is he going to shoot me, a hit man? He’s going to pull out a handgun in Thornton’s bar and blow me away?”
    “No, it’s worse than that, just telling you is punishment enough.”
    “That makes no sense. You’re saying that his evidence is the punishment. What sort of sentence is that?”
    “It’s the worst sort; you have to live with it.”
    Owen sat back on the couch. He was looking at JJ intently, shaking his head sorrowfully as if seeing something deeply pitiful for the first time. “You’re always like this,” he said softly, “always coming out with this sort of shite.”
    “Don’t heed him, Owen, you know how he is.”
    Owen was near tears now, drink and tiredness suddenly overpowering him. His inspiration had dried up too and he knew it. He was looking at me, hoping I’d side with him.
    “I know what I’d tell that cunt, I’d tell him what I’mtelling you right now. Fuck off back to where he came