Free Psykogeddon by Dave Stone Page B

hang on, this one's tagged as 'further investigation'. What do you think? Did we miss him in the rush?"
    "If you like," said the first. "I notice, though, that it's been tagged as 'further investigation' by Judge Dredd."
    "Ah. Better actually do it, then. The last thing we want is an in-person visit from Old Stony Face."
    The first tech shunted the body off the conveyor line and walked it through the secondary deep-scan processes that would give a fuller picture of its physiological state.
    "Leon Gregor Sturlek..." he read from the display. "Cause of demise, well, we know about that... Massive trauma and systemic collapse due to the obvious... Previous neurological and synaptic disruption, together with an endocrinal shift consistent with a textbook schizophrenic break - now that is odd."
    "What's up?" said the second tech. "You're the one with the basic neuro-training. I'm just the gut-guy."
    "Well, the thing about what you can broadly call a schizophrenic break," said the first, "if I'm remembering it right, is that there's no such thing as a classic textbook pattern. It's like a kinda random shorting out and reallocation of synaptic pathways.
    "Random being the operative word, apparently. The brain misfires and the victim experiences disruptions that could be literally anything, from hearing voices telling them to kill their mother 'cause she's a demon to being absolutely convinced that their mother is a small tub of synthi-cheese...
    "Doesn't have to be about mothers, of course; the point is it could be anything . Thinking the whole concept of up is a tune you're whistling. Thinking Wednesday is a toad in a hat. Whatever. Just like this total nonsense. The reason so many schizophrenics seem to be similar is that the intact parts of their mind are trying, desperately, to explain the total nonsense and latch on to similar things and fears - that Grud's telling them to do things, that aliens are doing it, that it's all part of some Justice Department conspiracy pumping microwaves into their heads."
    He tapped the deep-scan display. "The point is, this says, the synaptic disruptions here are entirely too organised in nature. It's as if they've been designed for a specific purpose. Not just to have this Sturlek guy flipping out in one of any number of odd, random ways - but to flip out in a specific and violently psychotic way. He was all charged up and just waiting for some kind of trigger."
    "So what you're saying," said the first med-tech, "is that somebody actually did this to the guy?"
    "Somebody did this to him," said the second. "Grud alone knows how or why. I think we're gonna have to pass this guy up the chain to the people who actually know stuff."

SEVEN
     
    " Minds like ours, my dear James, must always be above national prejudices, and in all companies it gives me great pleasure to declare, that, as a people, the English are very little indeed inferior to the Scotch. "
    - Christopher North
    Noctes Ambrosianae
     
    On the rooftop strato-pad of the Halls of Justice, Dredd and Chief Judge Hershey stood together with a contingent of armed Tactical Response Judges. An hour earlier, Dredd had procured the services of Barnstable Wheems, Efil Drago San had been moved to a hi-security cell in the Hall of Justice and now they were waiting for the final component of the affair: the arrival of a contingent from Brit-Cit by way of intercontinental Strat-Bat.
    The Tactical Response squad with them was, ostensibly, an "honour guard", but in a far more real sense it was a failsafe, a protective measure, just to be sure. The Justice Department of Mega-City One, despite any failings it might have in the eyes of its critics, was not, in the end, a bunch of drokking idiots.
    The Judges had realised early on - though just slightly too late to prevent their funding of it - the true nature of Brit-Cit's so-called "Justice Department" and what was being done in their name. They had yanked that funding and support as soon as they had