Free Sweet Justice by Neil Gaiman Page A

understanding and the exchange of ideas and techniques ’ as Jones put it.
    Silver thought of Hershey spending six months in Brit-Cit. And Silver smiled.

 
    JUDGE ANDERSON: DEAR DIARY
     
    By Peter Milligan, 2000 AD Annual 1988
     
     
    21 JUNE 2109
     
    Today is going to be really boring.
    If my flashes are correct, and knowing my luck most of them will be, I’ll get caught in a traffic snarl-up on my way to H.Q., and then I’ll get cornered by that fat greaseball from records, Ned Kamen. I think Kamen has probably got a portrait of himself somewhere, a portrait that stays looking young and beautiful while Kamen himself is the embodiment of all the slimy and devious facets of his slimy and devious life.
    Sorry, are you getting the impression I don’t like him? You know I have nothing against ugly people. They can’t help it and, hey, there are probably one or two people in the world who don’t go a bundle on me. No. Just because he’s got a complexion like the Sea of Tranquility and his hands are like two slabs of greasy bacon and to smell his breath you’d think his alimentary canal was linked to the city’s sewer system doesn’t mean to say that he isn’t a nice human being. It’s just that he isn’t a nice human being, and he keeps cornering me and trying to run his not-nice-human-being’s hands all over me. And then–
    Hold on. I’m getting something else. Drokk! Someone’s going to break into my locker. I’ll go to the locker at about noon and a find a spare uniform plus some other odds and ends missing. Where are Security going to be, for Grud’s sake?
    Make a note, Anderson. Keep your eye on your locker.
    The rest of the day is a bit confused. I think there’ll be further outbreaks of violence between rival factions of the Philosophers. A gang of young Existentialists, aided by some disaffected Hedonists, will ambush and kick drokk out of a passing mob of Logical Positivists. Thanks to this flash, there’ll be a squad of Riot Judges there to really give the Philosophers something to think about. Tsch. All this in-fighting amongst the city’s thinkers is enough to make you a cynic; except that all the Cynics are in jail after they finally killed off the Stoics last year. Of course, the Cynics were the biggest gang of all, Mega-City One philosophers having a tendency, for some reason, to embrace that particular creed. And as for the Stoics, well, they didn’t even bother trying to defend themselves when the Cynics attacked them. They just gritted their teeth, accepted it all as their fate, and were subsequently mashed to a pulp.
     
    22 JUNE 2109
     
    I was right. Yesterday was really boring.
    Forewarned by my flash I tried to avoid the Elephant Man (otherwise known as Ned Kamen) all morning. I saw his eyes, his cold patient eyes like black pebbles set in blancmange, following me around, waiting for the moment when he could trap me. I was hoping yesterday morning’s flash was incorrect; I’m not infallible.
    I’d successfully dodged him for about an hour when Omar, head of Psi Division, passed by. I told him about my flash concerning the Philosophy riot, on Zeitgeist Boulevard.
    ‘Okay, Anderson. Log it with Kamen and then get moving.’
    Trying to avoid a precog can be like sliding slow-motion downhill in a car without brakes. As quickly as possible, I gave the flash to Blubber Boy – but his blubber belied his agility. Before I could exit, he’d cut off my escape route.
    ‘Anderson,’ he breathed, ‘When are we going to have that dinner?’
    ‘ What dinner, Kamen?’
    The smell of distant mudflats had reached my nostrils. I pushed past him, and felt a clammy claw crawl onto my shoulder.
    ‘The dinner you’re going to cook me round your place, of course.’
    ‘Do you know what I like about you, Ned?’
    Ned looked at me with wide eyes, his lip muscles flexing into something resembling a smile.
    ‘No. What do you like about me, Anderson?’
    ‘Nothing,’ I replied, bringing up my