Prey World E-Book

Alexander Merow

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Prey World
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 270

Beschreibung

Frank Kohlhaas lives a bleak life as a contract worker in Berlin in the year 2028. A newly established World Government rules over the entire earth and has set up a perfidious system of total surveillance. One day, when Frank becomes conspicuous after an argument at work, he unexpectedly finds himself in the claws of the global regime. His existence as an insignificant citizen ends when he is convicted in an automated trial. Trapped in a hell of fear and brainwashing, Frank soon loses hope until the unexpected happens...

Leseprobe

Chapters

Citizen 1-564398B-278843

Automated Trial

Big Eye

The Change

Outsourced

World Peace in Ivas?

Rebellion and Fresh Snow

Doubts are Not Allowed

Aux Champs-Elysees

The Lull Before the Storm

Out of the Underground

Red Moon

With Him

“Maybe it is nothing but madness and suicide. Maybe it will not change the world but this is not important for me. Nevertheless, it will change something for me! I have suffered too much to humble myself anymore. They have told us to humble ourselves - since kindergarten.

Shut up! Consume! Obey! Endure! Believe! Watch shit! Buy shit! Eat shit! Turn the other cheek!

What has become of us? Why have we become sheep?

Why do we endure all this without doing something?

Why has nobody the courage to act?

Thorsten`s books have opened my eyes! Now, I know who they are and what they plan for us all. And I can`t forget what they have already done to me.

They call us “cattle”. Okay, then I will be the black sheep in the flock. And the black sheep will fight back now! And the black sheep does not fear the butcher anymore, because even the butcher can be killed.

Franky, the little black sheep, will make them pay now! And I hope that the remaining white sheep in the flock will wake up some day.”

P.S.: If I don`t come back, please give this book to Julia Wilden.

Diary entry of Frank Kohlhaas, 17.02.2029

Citizen 1-564398B-278843

The unpleasant smell in the hall of his housing block had already permeated the dreams of Frank Kohlhaas, who went by citizen 1-564398B-278843 in his everyday life, his official administrative code. The smell reminded him of rotten eggs. In his mind, shortly before 5.00 o'clock in the morning – soon the dream would be interrupted by the alarm – Frank was on a walk through a sunny valley. But even at this beautiful place, the moldy smell was still pervasive; so that Frank wondered, how such a beautiful valley could smell so repulsive.

When the alarm-clock rang, it quickly became clear that the sunny valley was fantasy while the smell was real. The noise was shrill and Frank woke up swearing. Now, he had to get up, put on his clothes, have a hasty breakfast and walk to the production complex 42-B.

„Damn!” he hissed, crawling out of his bed.

Frank yawned, walked through his still dark apartment into the next room where a dirty kitchen was waiting for him. He pulled the refrigerator door open and choked down a cheese sandwich, the meager left-overs from yesterday`s supper.

The kettle heated up with a loud whoosh and after a few minutes, Frank had some hot water for a cup of instant coffee.

„Nha!” uttered the young man, a statement that could be interpreted in many ways at this early hour.

At 5.27 am, Frank closed the battered entrance door of his apartment behind him and listlessly walked down a dark corridor on his way to enter the even darker stairwell. The source of the foul stench which had been torturing Frank for days was somewhere here. Perhaps, one of the other tenants had left his garbage in the corridor.

„I don`t know...,“ muttered Frank.

Each morning it was the same: „Getting up, eating, walking, slogging away...,“ as he always said.

In the past years, he had learned to hate his life. He was 25 years old now and lived in a more than shabby apartment block on the outskirts of the former FRG capital Berlin.

Frank worked for modest wages as a temporary help in a steel plant, one of the few industrial facilities, which still existed in Germany.

In former times, Frank had always wanted to study but this dream had remained just a dream, for reasons Frank never talked about. Actually, he was far from stupid, but, in his own words, he couldn`t hack it that far.

Anyway, the job in the steel plant was better than nothing because it gave Frank the chance to earn money and to survive. This was more than millions of other Germans had in these days.

Frank passed a lot of run-down houses on his way to the plant, crowds of homeless people were lying in the dark corners around him. This sight was nothing new, thought Frank. Berlin was a rotting corpse and it got worse with each passing year.

„What would happen, if I just didn`t care about the consequences and went home again? I could close my eyes and sleep until tomorrow,“ he mused.

„What would happen, if I just packed my bags and disappeared from this cursed city, this decaying country?,“ he asked himself.

But would it be different anywhere else? He should enjoy what he had, Frank thought then. He had a job, an apartment and something to eat. That was at least something.

After Frank had passed a long and dark underpass without giving a Globe coin to one of the drunken beggars there, the production complex came in sight. It was 5.53 in the morning and the workers of the early shift were waiting, smoking and talking, in front of the building.

When the factory gates finally opened at 6 o'clock, about 200 workers poured through them like a viscous mash. Most of the men and women were not too eager to start with their work. But it had to be done; there was no other way.

“No alternative!”, as Frank always said to himself.

After ten hours, he walked back home again. He was dirty and tired, but happy that the work was over for that day. Frank trudged through the corridor on his floor which was still dim, even by day. Then he unlocked the door of his apartment.

There were no new messages on his Scanchip and that was good because they were usually only bills: electricity, water and such things.

A while ago, Frank had placed the television in his bedroom. If he couldn`t sleep, he could turn it on. The program did not interest him, but with someone talking he did not feel so alone in this dark block of flats.

Frank just knew his neighbours from brief encounters.

Many of them only left their apartments to go to work. Other had become boozers in the last years and spent their time alone with their alcohol. From time to time, one of them bawled down from his balcony or shouted at people who were passing “his block”.

Frank watched television till 22.37 pm. He paid a little attention to the news. They talked about the necessary war of the Global Control Force against the dangerous terrorists in Iran. They also warned of the coming „Dog Flu“ and some experts even mentioned that a „mandatory vaccination“ could become inevitable.

After that, Frank watched the last part of a talk show. Then he fell asleep, although the foul smell from outside seemed to have lodged itself inside his pillow.

„Good morning, Frank!” muttered Dirk Weber, one of the foremen.

„Good morning, Dirk!” answered Frank quietly.

It was 6.03 am, the morning shift had begun. A-341, this was Frank`s ID code as worker and temporary help in this steel plant, lent his helping hands during many operational steps until the clock showed 10.30.

Now it was time for a short lunch, and when Frank unwrapped his bun, which was covered with a piece of salami, he did not suspect that an unpleasant stroke of fate was waiting for him in the next few minutes.

For approximately half a year the administration of the production complex had been arranging the singing of the “One-World-Song”, due to a new international regulation.

It was sung before every lunch time, in each production complex in the sector „Central Europe“ - to increase the work moral and to strengthen the international doctrine of „peace, freedom, prosperity and equality“ which had been propagated by the World Government since 2018.

The official of the “Ministry of Production Supervision”, stationed in this plant, Mr. Gert Sasse, who was mostly in his office above the factory building, had conscientiously come down to the workers to sing the “One-World-Song” with them.

„Now it is lunch time! But we will sing first!” he shouted through the hall and the steel workers formed into a bored line, in order to enjoy the short break after the singing.

“We are the children of One-World and we are all equal! We love our One-World, the great realm of peace! We don`t know any classes, we don`t know any races...”

Frank had hardly been heeding the text at all in the last weeks, he didn`t move his lips and stared at the ceiling of the production hall.

„Hurry up!” he thought scraping his left foot over the dusty ground in boredom. Then the singing was over.

„Gosh! This stupid song is really getting on my nerves!” he said very quietly to himself.

„All right, men! That was okay - halfway! Enjoy your meal!” said the official of the “Ministry for Production Supervision”, and Frank looked forward to a hungry bite of his softened bun.

But while his teeth were eagerly crushing a salty piece of salami, he was hit by the angry gaze of Mr. Sasse. The supervisor narrowed his eyes to slits and looked like an aggressive bulldog.

„A-341! Yes, you! Come here! Hurry!” he roared at the top of his lungs.

This got Frank`s adrenalin flowing. He didn`t need any quarrel at work.

„Come on, A-341!” yelled Mr. Sasse, waving Frank nearer. Kohlhaas followed the order immediately.

„I am just a fool for you, isn`t it?” hissed Sasse.

„Eh, no! Of course not, Sir!” stammered Frank. „I really don`t know what you mean.“

„What I mean, you idiot?” screamed the official with an expression which gave Frank the biggest possible uneasiness. A malicious silence prevailed for several oppressive seconds in the hall. Meanwhile, Sasse`s eyes had threateningly become smaller. Bushy, black eyebrows were pushed over them.

A second later, Frank saw a bacon-like fist flying towards his face. It suddenly hurt and his nasal bone reacted with a cracking. While some blood threads started to flow down from his nose, Kohlhaas heard a growl. „How I mean that, you numbskull?”

„Sir, please...I really did not...,“ moaned Frank but Sasse interrupted him.

„If I give the instruction to sing the „One-World-Song“, then you have to sing it too. This was an order!” completed Sasse his powerful argument.

His intonation now varied between satisfaction and rampantly growing viciousness. In the meantime, Kohlhaas had gone to the ground. The punch had been really hard and Sasse finally even gave him a kick in the ribs.

„Do you understand my words, idiot? You may probably think that you have a special status here, isn`t it? But you are wrong with that, man!” Sasse roared.

The other workers googled at him and Frank; they were hiding their faces behind their rolls. Meanwhile, Kohlhaas felt like a flogged dog, entirely humiliated in front of the rest of his colleagues. Without considering his action, he suddenly jumped up and positioned himself in front of the official of the “Ministry for Production Supervision”. “You can be glad that you are my boss, otherwise I would break you every bone!” screamed Frank in uncontrolled rage.

Sasse was baffled while Kohlhaas defiantly wiped off the blood from his lip. The supervisor stepped back, Frank stared at him with a psychopathic fury glowing in his eyes.

One hour later, Frank was still waiting in front of the door of the production complex leader. Sasse was in his office and Frank heard him swearing and ranting. This was not a good sign.

„A-341, come in!” resounded the voice of the highest boss of this work plant across the brightly illuminated corridor.

Slowly, Kohlhaas started moving, he took a seat on the chair in the middle of the office room. A short silence followed, then it began.

„I took a look on your Scanchip, A-341!” said Mr. Reimers, the production complex leader. „In the ten years of your activity here you have come too late three times. Apart from that, this is not the first time that you make a spectacle of yourself. You have already attracted my attention, because of your subversive statements at work. They can also be confirmed by your colleagues. We had even marked you with a blue code 67-Beta because of that, if you didn`t know it yet, A-341.

Now, we have to examine the video tapes of your working days in this complex with our “Voice-Analysis-System”, and I`m sure that we will find some more subversive statements of you.

But what you have done today is a real scandal! Threatening an official of the highest authority of production supervision. Is there nothing in your head, boy? If I don`t take drastic measures in a case like this, my superiors will make me a lot of problems. I must fire you, A-341! Further, I am obligated to react on such an unbelievable incident with a message to the responsible administration. Leave this production complex immediately, A-341, and never come back!“

Frank, the just fired worker, was struck dumb with horror. His vocal chords seemed to be rusted, his throat was tied and his courage was frozen to ice. He walked out, simply walked out, pale as death, with an aching head, without answering. Frank had lost his job, his source for subsistence. And this was a catastrophe in these joyless days.

Like in trance, Kohlhaas went into the changing room of the production complex and absently opened the door of his locker.

„Fired“ - this word sounded like the cut of a razor in the ear of each listener in this time. It was related to the word „liquidation”, because it was the destruction of the social existence. Being fired meant to get no more Globes, as the international currency was called since the year 2018.

If Frank would not find a new employment as soon as possible, he would lose his apartment, his food and finally also his life.

Any social security, warranted by the state, had completely been abolished since the total collapse of world economy in the winter of 2012/13.

And it was more than difficult to find work in a time in which the industrial production in Central and Western Europe had almost completely been outsourced to the Third World.

Therefore, millions of Europeans tried to survive by doing extremely badly paid jobs. They had nothing to lose, so they were glad about every breadline wage they could get. Those, who were not able to find a possibility to earn money, ended as beggars, hanging around under bridges or in vacant house ruins.

On the next day, Frank was not woken up by the shrill sound of his alarm clock after a restless night. Instead, the disgusting stench, which was coming from the stairway, had ended his sleep. The smell had not yet been liquidated by anyone. It was remaining.

Only in the early morning hours, Frank had been able to sleep for a while because a constant brooding and many unpleasant thoughts had been torturing him since he had left the steel plant. As first thought of this new day, the malicious grin of Mr. Sasse appeared in Frank`s head and Kohlhaas`s face changed into a hateful grimace, when he mused about beating the official to death with an iron rod.

„This damn rat! If my life goes down the drain because of him, I will smash his skull before I go to hell!” hissed Frank, seething with helpless rage.

He finally crawled out of his bed and stared down the dirty street in front of his apartment block.

„What shall I do now?” he thought. „I must find a new job, otherwise they will block the account on my Scanchip because I can`t pay the bills any longer.“

After a further hour of useless musing, Frank left his apartment. He tried not to inhale too deeply on the corridor and finally walked down the dark stairs to the ground floor. The elevator was defective since months, and nobody had so far wasted a thought about repairing it.

The only one Frank could imagine as a potential employer was Stefan Meise, the junk dealer, an old schoolmate.

Meise`s scrapyard was about half an hour foot march away from Frank`s apartment block. So he hit the road, walked down a long street, which was covered with garbage, and finally reached his goal – a place full of rusty cars and all kinds of scrap.

Nevertheless, Stefan Meise was not difficult to find between the mountains of old metal. He was very tall, thick, bearded and looked hardly differed from what he collected and sold.

„Hello, Stefan! How are you?” welcomed him Frank quietly, trying to smile.

„Oh, Kohlhaas! What`s up, man?” answered the thick junk dealer. “You haven`t been here for ages.”

“I just thought I could visit you. Does the scrap trade still run, Stefan?” asked Frank. „You have here…eh…a lot of rusty stuff. Where do you find so much junk?”

„Ha! I collect what I can find. As all junk dealers do. Why do you ask me this, Frank? Can I help you?” returned Meise.

„I have lost my job yesterday,“ told Frank while the fat man looked at him quizzically. Then, Meise stroke with his broad, oily fingers over his overall.

„That`s a disaster, Frank! And now?” he asked and shook his head.

„Now, I`m looking for something new. Some kind of temporary job, you know? Could you need another helping hand?” mumbled Kohlhaas.

For half a minute, Meise just googled at Frank with his yellowish eyes. Then he looked around and tried to give his unpleasant answer as carefully as possible.

„Working for me?” he repeated. „Thus, Frank, the situation is…well...times are hard. We all know that, my friend. I almost run everything alone here. Just Ralf helps me from time to time. This is actually enough. I don`t need a second man to be honest. Sorry.“

Frank had never been a good actor, and who saw him now could see his despair.

„And only for two months?” he asked after a short moment of torturous silence.

„I need none here, and I can`t afford a second man,“ explained Meise turning away. „I'm really sorry but I have to do some work now. No offense, but there is no chance for you to find work here.”

Frank nodded, he turned around and walked away without so much as looking at Meise again.

Back home, Frank hissed one of his worst curses and kicked against the kitchen table. He desperately scanned his brain for other possibilities of employment and checked all the production complexes around Berlin in his mind. But the main problem was, that his boss had given him a negative entry in his Scanchip register after the conflict with Mr. Sasse, what made it difficult to get a job in another steel plant.

Frank still had 246 Globes on his electronic account for this month. More than 500 Globes he had to pay only for his apartment in this rotted block of flats.

Time was pressing now, with each day a little bit more, and the dark shadow of despair was growing with the passing hours. It occupied Frank`s mind like a malicious ulcer.

After Kohlhaas had watched an extremely stupid sitcom, he switched off the television and tried to sleep. But it was just 23,00 pm and regrettably the exhaustion had not yet achieved the necessary level to turn off Frank`s brain, in order to give him some peace of mind.

Several hours followed when Frank was staring at the dark ceiling, cursing the production complex 42-B with all its superiors, supervisors and workers. Then the stench from the hall became noticeable to him again and the fog of hopelessness in his head swelled so strongly that Frank thought about killing himself. He mused about operating the bad thoughts and concerns under his skullcap with a heavy-calibered shotgun which would spread his brain across the yellowed wallpaper behind his bedstead. And Frank still mused about many other things in this terrible night. He brooded over his so far senseless life, the isolation, the monotonousness and the gaping abyss that was waiting for him now.

Frank came to no solution in this night, and not even the smallest spark of hope seemed to shine somewhere. Outside it was dark, Kohlhaas stared down on the empty street. In front of the house he recognized a few ripped garbage bags, which were already laying there since several weeks. Then he was finally so tired, that he fell asleep with his head on the window sill.

Up to the end of the week, the search for a new job was unsuccessful - as Frank had already expected it. It seemed that there was no more work in the periphery of several kilometers. Furthermore, an inquiry at the local administration had proven that Frank already had a negative entry in his Scanchip register because of „disturbance of peace at the workplace”.

„Perhaps, the idea with the shotgun is not so bad. But before that I will visit Sasse!”, grumbled Frank on Friday, when the short weekend for his former colleagues began.

On Saturday and Sunday, he invested his last Globes in the cheap liquor from the kiosk at the corner. Alone in his small, modestly furnished apartment in a dark block of flats in an even darker time. Frank`s pain was not noticed by anyone else.

Just like Frank had never noticed the pain of the others who lived their lives in their honeycombs, behind the shabby, gray walls of this plattenbau.

If he would drink himself to death or blew his head away with a gun, he would soon smell like the corridor on his floor, and it would probably not even been noticed by his neighbors. This thought was somehow so sick that it elicited Frank a tormented smile.

Hard liquor had not the best reputation; but one thing was just a fact: it had already given millions of desperate people a good sleep. No concern could be so big that it could not be drowned in a wave of the good and above all cheap booze from the nearby kiosk. Frank checked this old truth in a “self-experiment” in this night.

„Beep! Beep! Beep!” screamed the alarm on Monday at 6.30 am in the morning. The noise came from the kitchen where Frank had forgotten his Scanchip on the table.

„Beep! Beep! Beep!“

An electronic woman`s voice always repeated...

„Good morning, citizen 1-564398B-278843! You have a message of priority level alpha on your Scanchip!“

„Good morning, citizen 1-564398B-278843! You have a message of priority level alpha on your Scanchip!“

„Good morning, citizen 1-564398B-278843! You have a message of priority level alpha on your Scanchip!“

„Hmmm?” hummed Frank, still dazed from the night before.

„Damn! What?” he muttered then and rolled out of his bed which was still smelling of alcohol.

„What the hell? Damn! Shut up!” he finally grunted and walked with a bad headache into the kitchen.

It lasted a small eternity, until Frank remembered the code and had found a way through the message-menu of the Scanchip.

“What...?”

“Citation? What?” he whispered.

Frank had to read it twice in order to believe it. Was somebody kidding him?

„What the hell is that?” he uttered loudly.

With wide eyes, Frank stared down on the small screen of his Scanchip. He rubbed his chin.

Official citation:

Citizen 1-564398B-278843, you are officially cited to an automated trial on 14.08.2027 at 8.00 am.

Accusations: Massive disturbance of peace at the workplace / Theoretical aggravated battery

Please appear at the mentioned time in court cell 4/211, at your local juridical complex. In the case of nonappearance, you will be punished with the deletion of your Scanchip or arrest!

(*§127b, „Citizen Obligations and theoretical Sanctions“) Official document code: 257789000-0100567-2345441113-EGN-59900-4/211

Culprit number: 319444-556.77

Thank you for your cooperation!

Frank`s atomised brain began to hurt and to rotate.

„Citation? What do you want from me?“

He was utterly confused and couldn`t remember any crimes in his past life.

„Just because I have yelled at this damned Sasse?” he thought. „This can`t be true! I finally did not touch him. I just lost control for some seconds. I don`t understand this. And what the hell do they mean with „theoretical aggravated battery“?”

And there was no doubt. Frank Kohlhaas, the helping out citizen with the official code 1-564398B-278843, had never harmed another person. Except for the time in the kindergarten, back then, when he had given this stupid Kevin a little slap, and his parents had been called to the authorities.

The local education officials had briefly become concerned and had explained that Frank would have „subliminal aggressions“ and a „precarious masculine behavior”. Then they had suggested a therapy with tranquilizers.

But this was many years ago. Furthermore, the therapy could be avoided after Frank had repented his “sins” in front of a committee of psychologists and social pedagogues. Moreover, his parents had insured that they would immediately report Frank`s next “crimes”, if he would become noticeable again.

But this never happened. Frank always stuck to the rules until this day; in the kindergarten, the elementary school and everywhere else. Since his fifth year of life, Frank had always been a good boy.

And of course he was not a person with „subliminal aggressions“. Sometimes in his dreams, he beat up a superior or an administrative coworker but this was a secret and Frank had never talked about his thought crimes.

He was just “normal”, as he meant. Apart from that, it was also the first time that the otherwise perfectly inconspicuous plattenbau-inhabitant Frank Kohlhaas had come in contact with an „automated trial“. He had already heard about this, once in the news, since it had been introduced by the World Government three years ago. But Frank could not imagine what this strange process really was.

Why should a decent person like him think about such things? He had never become culpable and had nothing to do with any form of criminality.

Therefore, Kohlhaas had not the smallest idea what was waiting for him now, and so he wasn`t too concerned about the citation.

It was probably nothing but a formality. A misunderstanding which could be clarified. Frank had not hurt anybody and therefore he also could not be condemned. He had already lost his job because of the so called “disturbance of peace at the workplace“.

Therefore, there was no reason to be worried, he thought. Absently, Frank hit the button for „Voice Presentation“ so that the message was slowly read out by a computeranimated woman`s voice. This was also a novelty. The administration had introduced the “Voice Presentation” some years ago because more and more citizens of Berlin were illiterate. Above all, the younger generation. So an important official message had always to be available in a read out form.

The rest of this day wasn`t very spectacular and the “automated trail” was already tomorrow.

„I will finally have a reason to get up,“ said Frank to himself and grinned cynically.

Shortly afterwards, he tried to call his father to ask him for some money but he didn`t reach anybody during the whole day.

Nevertheless, there was still some liquor in the kitchen. Frank decided to get drunk again. At midnight, he fell asleep.

Automated Trial

Although it was August, this morning was unusual cold and dark. Frank`s neck hurt and he had another headache from last night`s drunkenness. The local juridical complex was over one hour foot march distant from his apartment block, but Frank thought that it would be a good idea to walk and get some fresh air. In addition, he would fight the aftereffects of his hangover.

Frank hastily gulped down a toast, drank some dissolvable coffee and examined the label on the plastic can of the coffee powder at the same time.

„Globe Food” was written on it and Frank could see a blue globe. Above the globe was a pyramid with an eye on its top. At the bottom of the picture was the slogan: „Food for the people!”

„Amusing symbol!,“ murmured Frank scratching his cheek which was covered with a few dark brown beard stubbles.

Kohlhaas had never noticed this logo before although he only bought his food in the „Globe Food” supermarkets which dominated the whole sector „Central Europe“. Then the thought left Frank`s head again, as fast as it had come.

The unusual cold weather let Frank shiver. A gush of fresh air blew through the dark stairway and temporary blew away the smell of foul eggs. In front of him, a neighbor walked down to the exit and Frank considered if he had ever seen the face of this man before.

The stranger muttered something like “Hello!” but Kohlhaas wasn`t sure. Slowly he walked forward and was still dizzy. He briefly looked at the playground in front of the block and beheld a group children who were screaming with shrill voices in an incomprehensible language. Was it Turkish? Or Arabic?

When the clock showed 7.43, Frank could already recognize the outlines of the juridical complex from the distance. It was a large red building with hundreds of windows and over 30 floors. Dozens of court cells were in front of it, one of them was waiting for him. The chambers, in which people could get their “automated trials”, were made of gray metal and about four meters wide, as Frank guessed regarding them from afar.

Three other citizens already stood in front of them, between them were some police officers. Slowly, Frank became nervous. Perhaps this hearing was nevertheless more unpleasant than he had imagined.

Now, it was necessary to pass an electrical gate which was protected by a doorman in a small, brown house. The official gave Frank a sign to come nearer.

„Please hurry!” he called.

Kohlhaas ran forward and positioned himself in front of the entrance of the guardroom.

„Scanchip!” said the doorman, holding up a laser scanner. Wordlessly he pulled the Scanchip out of Frank`s hand, without looking at him, and said after a short „beep” of the code reader, „Court cell 4/211! Hurry up! It has almost started! If you come too late, it will be more expensive for you!“

Frank`s heart started to pound faster. Fearfully he began to search the court cells in order to find his number. The other accused examined him with some brief looks.

„Row 4! Shit! I must hurry up, 211…“ lamented Frank, becoming more and more nervous.

Meanwhile, only two minutes remained. He began to run and with a racing heart and an increasing headache he finally reached his court cell in time.

Gasping for breath, Frank was welcomed by an electronic voice: „Welcome citizen 1-564398B-278843, this is your automated trail! Please enter your culprit number on the display and press OK!”

Frank pulled the Scanchip out of his pocket, opened the menu and tried to enter his culprit number. A rarely known panic started to grow inside him. He looked around, gasping for breath again.

„Actually, I don`t have to go in this damn metal box because I didn`t do anything wrong,“ he whispered but the door was already open.

Frank`s hands became sweaty while he breathed louder.

A weakly lit up metallic hole welcomed him. Frank was requested to step forward.

„Come in, citizen 1-564398B-278843! Your trial is already running!” it resounded from a loudspeaker somewhere in the half dark chamber.

Frank knew that he had no chance to refuse the order. It was nevertheless an official instruction and there was never and in no case room for an exception.

Kohlhaas made a long step forward and his knees felt weaker with each passing second. Then a screen lit up. For half a minute, a sinister silence reigned in the court chamber. Frank stared at the screen and the screen seemed to stare back. Then the “automated trial” against the theoretical delinquent Frank Kohlhaas took its course. In large and bright letters the reproaches could be read on the screen:

Accusations:

Massive disturbance at the workplace; Theoretical aggravated battery