"Marshal Candide, welcome to the Outer Tribunal," the Bourgeois-Master said with a mendacious smile that Candide took for a gracious one. "Have a seat and one of the technicians will be with you shortly," the Bourgeois-Master added.

Candide sat across from the large screen in the waiting room and watched the colorful commercials the Tribunal had produced recently. There were many and the special effects were debilitating on such a large, clear display. His eyes were blue and his hair blond, which led many to think he was a 'genetic' but, as his Guardian had said, "Only his doctor knows for sure."

The Technician arrived at the vestibule of the waiting room and made a face upon witnessing Candide's child-like fascination with the Tribunal's advertisements. He motioned to Candide to follow him, "Don't get out much anymore?" He quipped to the Marshal-from-the-provinces.

He was ushered into a room that resembled a dentist's office and was directed to the examination chair.

"My teeth have been recently examined," Candide explained, "and I'm cavity-free."

"Oh, we're not interested in your teeth, we're going to pull out your guts --through your nose," the technician joked, deadpan.

"Really?" Candide asked, bumping his head on the surgical lights.

"No… Marshal Candide, we have a job for you," the Technician said.

"Uh huh, " Candide mumbled, playing with the armrests momentarily.

"Look here." The Technician gestured to the wall before him, which displayed a picture of a very interesting female. "See her?"

"Yes!" Candide said, "Very voluptuous. Most appealing…"

"So, you'd like to meet her?" the Technician asked.

"Yes, I wouldn't mind…" Candide replied.

"Good, because we hope you will. She… she is not exactly a she, Marshall Candide… Well, physically maybe… The original she was a Prole named Sheila. A hooker indicted for murder. But she got sentenced to 'experiments.' --To the Biological Personality Transfer program…"

"What?" Candide asked, looking perplexed.

"You know, that thing funded for rich guys hoping to eventually transfer their precious personalities to the bodies of brain-dead victims when the rich guys become terminally ill. The Tribunal remains officially neutral on the project… --Though Class A felons have been released for experimentation. They take the 'junk' out of one piece of garbage's central nervous system and merge it into another's to see what happens…" The Technician made several flouring hand movements while portraying such a thing.

"In any event," the Technician continued, " --this beautiful bitch got the mental 'junk' from a serial rapist, another murderer and an extortionist…" The Technician laughed. "Men! --Can you fathom that? So we don't really know what she is…"

"What does this have to do with me?" Candide asked.

"She escaped. Used the lab's Quibit Switch computer to enter another dimension. And you're a marshal aren't you? So you're going to get her, or at least try and locate her dimension," the Technician said.

"Why me? I don't think I'm trained for this…" Candide explained. "I've been looking for skips owing garnished wages and the like… and haven't been too successful in this dimension," Candide admitted.

"Oh, a joke, and here I thought you were a total fucking idiot. A 'genetic' with some missing DNA… So now we see you're a comedian," the Technician replied, applying the stainless steel restraints across Candide's chest.

"Hey!" Candide protested as the lights went to subdued fluorescent and the chair swiveled down and to the left.

"Truth is, you're the most expendable moron we have. --With the lowest test and performance scores. We've imprinted you as a law-enforcement official, kind of a mark of Cain where you might end up, and a will turn you into a, sort-of, transmitter. She'll find you and later maybe we'll find her. Happy hunting!" The Technician said, touching some buttons.

"You'll be killing me! I want a transfer!" Candide cried with real tears.

The Technician laughed. "You have no cynicism, which is unheard of among real law-men; but an amazing sense of funny-ness about you."

Candide's writhing was cut short as a blue light enfolded and then whisked him away. The technician whistled happily as he turned off the system.

© 2001 Channel49_________                                        

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