THE CYBER and JUSTICE HOLMES
BY FRANK RILEY
Old Judge Anderson feared the inevitable—he
was to be replaced by a Cyber! A machine that
dealt out decisions free of human errors and
emotions. What would Justice Holmes think?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Cyber justice!" That's what the District Attorney had called it in hiscampaign speech last night.
"Cyber justice!"
Oh, hell!
Judge Walhfred Anderson threw the morning fax paper on top of the lawbooks he had been researching for the past two hours, and stompedangrily across his chamber to the door of the courtroom.
But it was easier to throw away the paper than the image of the words:
"—and, if re-elected, I pledge to do all in my power to help replacehuman inefficiency with Cyber justice in the courts of this county!
"We've seen what other counties have done with Cyber judges. We'vewitnessed the effectiveness of cybernetic units in our own AppellateDivision.... And I can promise you twice as many prosecutions at halfthe cost to the taxpayers ... with modern, streamlined Cyber justice!"
Oh, hell!
Walhfred Anderson caught a glimpse of his reflection in the oval mirrorbehind the coat rack. He paused, fuming, and smoothed down the fewlingering strands of grey hair. The District Attorney was waiting forhim out there. No use giving him the satisfaction of looking upset.Only a few moments ago, the Presiding Judge had visaphoned a warningthat the D.A. had obtained a change of calendar and was going to springa surprise case this morning....
The Judge cocked his bow tie at a jaunty angle, opened the neckline ofhis black robe enough for the pink boutonniere to peep out, and steppedinto the courtroom as sprightly as his eighty-six years would permit.
The District Attorney was an ex-football player, square-shouldered andsquare-jawed. He propelled himself to his feet, bowed perfunctorily andremained standing for the Pledge of Allegiance.
As the bailiff's voice repeated the pledge in an unbroken monotone,Walhfred Anderson allowed his eyes to wander to the gold-framed pictureof his personal symbol of justice, Oliver Wendell Holmes. JudgeAnderson winked at Justice Holmes. It was a morning ritual he hadobserved without fail for nearly fifty years.
This wasn't the classic picture of Justice Holmes. Not the leoninefigure Walhfred Anderson had once seen in the National Gallery. TheJustice Holmes on the wall of Judge Anderson's courtroom was muchwarmer and more human than the official portrait. It was from an oldetching that showed the Justice wearing a natty grey fedora. TheJustice's fabled mustaches were long and sweeping, giving him the airof a titled playboy, but his eyes were the eyes of the man who hadsaid: "When I am dying, my last words will be—have faith and pursuethe unknown end."
Those were good words to remember, when you were eighty-six. WalhfredAnderson stared wistfully at the yellowed etching, waiting for someother dearly remembered phrase to spring up between them. But JusticeHolmes wasn't communicative this morning. He hadn't been for a longtime.
The District Attorney's voice, threaded with sarcasm, broke into hisreverie:
"If the Court pleases, I would like to call up the case of People vs.Professor Neustadt."
Walhfred Anderson accepted the file from his aging, nearsi