Free Strange Perceptions by Chuck Heintzelman Page B

here,” Wendy Heart said, pointing to the Sentinel. The cameraman turned back around and focused on the Sentinel. “We have a Sentinel to perform the execution. The City hasn’t used firing squads in well over a hundred years, but to grant Mr. Grady’s wish they have outfitted the Sentinel with an old fashioned weapon which fires single projectiles using gunpowder.
    “Please show the weapon.”
    The Sentinel raised its arm.
    “Now, just arriving is Mayor Trebold and several dignitaries.”
    The camera man turned and tracked the mayor’s progress down the center aisle and up to the stage. Three others followed him, all men dressed in suits. They crossed the stage, to the right, and stood forward of the ship. The mayor had a grim, serious look on his face.
    Wendy Heart went to the mayor. “Would you like to say a few words?” She extended her microphone to him.
    “Thank you Wendy. Let me just say this is a solemn, solemn occasion. I consider it a failure of our society to be at this point. We must strive to work harder, be better. My administration is hard at work to see this type of societal lapse does not occur again.”
    The crowd murmured.
    “But,” Wendy said, “you could have stayed the execution.”
    “Yes indeed. This is a grave, grave situation and I gave the matter deep consideration. Especially, since this is an election year.” The mayor chuckled. “I may have lost a few votes by not stopping it. But in the end, we live in a society of rules. The justice system must work.” He held out his hands, open palms. “Who am I to arbitrarily decide who lives and who dies?”
    The crowd’s murmuring grew louder.
    “Very good of you, sir,” Wendy said. “Would you like to speak on the nature of Mr. Grady’s crimes?”
    “Oh no. I think the trial examined those well enough. Let me just say, when a person attacks the very structure of our government, that’s not an attack just on the government but on each and every one of her citizens.”
    “There was no attack!” someone yelled.
    “He was just getting a petition for us to vote!” another yelled.
    The mayor cleared his throat. “This was all examined at the trial.”
    “A sham trial!”
    “Ah,” Wendy said, “here’s the man of the hour.”
    Mr. Grady stood at the top of the amphitheater’s center aisle wearing a white jumper, a black bag over his head, and shackles on arms and feet. An armed, uniformed man led him down the center aisle. Another uniformed man followed close behind.
    The crowd’s silence sharply contrasted its previous restlessness.
    The uniformed men helped Mr. Grady onto the stage and then herded him to the box. They positioned him on top of the box, back against the curtain. Once there, they removed the bag from Grady’s head.
    The cameraman had backward-duck-walked in front of the group as they proceeded to the box. Now he stood and backed across the stage until he reached the center, in front of the screen. He slowly swept his head from the mayor’s group, including Wendy Heart, across the audience to Grady and the two officers.
    Jesper grabbed Favel’s hand and clenched it tight.
    Wendy Heart stepped to center stage, back to the crowd, and waited for the cameraman to focus on her. Once he did, she spoke in a soft, serious voice. “As you have seen, Mr. Grady is now in place. Next the officer of the court will ask if he has a final statement to make.”
    One of the uniformed men held out a microphone, inches from Grady’s mouth.
    “Just,” Grady began, coughed, cleared his throat and continued. “Just one thing. I don’t matter. You can kill me. But you can’t kill the right of every man and woman in a free society to—” They cut his microphone off.
    The uniformed men stepped to the either side of Mr. Grady and the Sentinel stepped forward, loud clanking steps on the stage. The Sentinel raised its gun arm, leveling it at Grady.
    In unison, the uniformed men nodded.
    Favel closed her eyes. Why had she let