Free World-Mart by Leigh Lane Page B

committing said crime(s)? 
(Research associate #00453-584 said “No.”)
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Has the Defendant ever been convicted of any previous crimes?
(Research associate #01002-388 said “No.”)
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Does the Defendant have anything to say in his/her defense, for having committed said crime(s)? 
(Research associate #02007-841 said “ No .”)
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    George knew that his confession would ensure a guilty verdict, but also that his cooperation with the police associates would help to ensure that his fine didn’t eat up too much of his monthly income.  The fact that his wife had just died, and that all of his actions occurred during a blackout, would be included in his report.  Hopefully, no one with the means and desire to destroy George would end up with it moving across his desk.
    He stood as a police manager stopped at George’s cell.
    “George Irwin?” the manager asked.
    “That’s me.”
    The manager’s eyes shifted uncomfortably, and he cleared his throat before he spoke: “I’m sorry, but it seems your file has been misplaced, and we can’t release you until it turns up.  If the managers at Law-Corp can’t process it by dusk, you’re going to have to stay the night.”
    “What?”  George felt as if a hot blast of wind was forcing him back, and he found the nearest seat.  “Please tell me you’re joking.”  He began to sweat, and he wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.
    “I’m afraid I’m not,” the manager said.  “If you’d like to speak to my supervisor about it, I’m sure I can find him.”
    “What about my kids?” George asked, closing his eyes, his body feeling hot and fluid.
    “Well, unless you have a relative in the district we can release them to, they’ll just have to stay the night at the Safe House.”
    George strained to glance back over at the p olice manager.  He shook his head, and then looked down.  “I’m a manager for Law-Corp.  How come I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before?”
    The p olice manager shrugged.  “I’ll be sure to ask my supervisor when I see him.”  He walked off, ignoring George’s pleas to return.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     

    VIRGINIA rinsed her hair one last time, hoping the timer on the water recycler would not go off before she could get all of the soap out.  She grabbed her towel and made way for another woman who stood, naked and shaking, waiting for her turn.  There was a clean pair of hospital pajamas waiting for her on her bed, and she quickly got dressed with her body turned away from the rest of the room.  The weekly ordeal they made of bathing the group was humiliating.
    Virginia wrapped her hair in her towel, glad at least to have had a shower.  The nozzles only worked when the medical associates turned them on, and the once a week that they did turn them on was just not often enough.  By then, not one person was without a hefty odor and slick, oily hair.  Virginia splashed herself off using the sink water when she got the chance, but cold water and powdered hand soap did little to keep the filth at bay.  It was mortifying to be herded into the bathroom by the medical associates in such a way, but it was over with for now and at least for the moment she was clean.
    Emily took her time walking over to Virginia, shaking the towel over her wet hair and adjusting the fit of her pajamas.  Both of them turned around and faced the far wall as the associates instructed the men to remove their clothes and line up for their shower.
    “When we get out of here, I will never take my privacy for granted ever again,” Emily said, resting her towel over her shoulders.  “I bet this is how they treat prison inmates.”
    Virginia nodded grimly.  “At least the ones who happen to have the wrong eye color.”
    Emily nodded her agreement.  Her face went