Worth Less

In the empty stands, blue light began to flicker, a humanoid image appearing. It took the shape of a young girl, kicking her ghostly legs out in hummed rhythm.

Slowly, other images began to phase into the room, the people looking briefly surprised at their surroundings. A few would reach their hands out to touch the balcony railing, gasping as their fingers passed right through. Others simply stared around at the tainted black metal of the walls and ceiling, like a realm composed of shadow.

A dark-suited businessman straightened his tie and scowled down at the little girl. On her chest, just above her heart, a digital screen displayed a number: 1052.

The man looked down at his own chest, his screen partially hidden by his tie. 791, it read in green numbers.

He gritted his teeth, trembling with rage. The young were always given such an unfair advantage. All for some useless reason such as potential. So what if they had chances? He'd put in the work, even as his score decreased with age. 

His fist clenched at his side. This brat deserved a slap to know what life was really like.

His heart stopped for a moment as the number on his chest went down, reading 786. Quickly, he straightened himself, snapping his hands to his sides. If he had truly struck her, it would have gone down twenty, perhaps fifty. He could not afford to decrease his score so freely.

As the holograms found places to sit (and for this they needed a seat from their end of the connection; some forgot this and fell through the bench) the air at the front of the room flickered. Slowly, like an angel, a great being took shape before them. It was eight feet tall, clad in magnificent black silk that drooped around its sleeves like a majestic ebon tree. In its hand, it held an ornate gavel.

This was a courtroom, and this creature was its judge.

Raising its free hand, the judge spoke in a voice both male and female, both human and monster. "Bring the defendant in," it said.

At once, two suits of navy armor burst through the doorway. Between them, a man fought their grip, trying desperately to rip himself free. His clothes were nothing noteworthy, and neither was his appearance. He was shoved forward into the stand, the wind knocked from his lungs as the bar collided with his stomach.

The armors flanked him on either side, giving no sign of humanity beneath their masks. The judge's face was nonexistent; a circular mirror was attached to the front of its skull instead. When the defendant looked up, all he could see was his own terrified face.

The gavel hit the stand, the sharp clatter resounding through the courtroom. The sound block was the only thing made of wood. All the rest was iron darkness.

"Court is now in session," the judge stated. "Today, this man's worth is judged."

It flung its arms out, the robes becoming a flood of tar. "Defendant. As a result of your score being too low, this trial is being held to determine your fate. If the outcome of this congregation confirms this, you will be pronounced Unneeded."

The man, hearing this, bent over the stand frantically. "What? No! That's impossible! They told me two hundred was safe! Safe!" He gestured to the score on his chest: 204.

The judge's expression remained absent. "Do not lie, defendant," it said, "or speak out of turn."

The number on the man's chest dropped to 194. His eyes bulged, and his mouth clamped shut.

"Now, the defendant may begin their plea." There was a hint of smugness in its voice as it said this.

The businessman and little girl leaned forward as the man opened his mouth. "First of all," he started, "I'm not worthless. I live a healthy, upstanding life, with a stable job and income."

"A predictable statement, said in some way or form by most Unneeded." The score dropped two points.

The man tried not to waver. "I have multiple friends and family who all care for me, and I care for them."

"How so?" the judge inquired.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I talk with them, help them financially, and-"

"Something anyone worth keeping would be able to do."

"Exactly!" the man shouted.

The judge stared blankly down at him. "Kindness is an inherent trait we must possess. Therefore, it cannot earn you points in this trial."

Gritting his teeth, the defendant refused to give in. "Besides that, I'm very skilled in my field of work - which, I understand, is a given for my education - but I'm one of the best there is."

"And yet, you have failed to produce any breakthroughs in the field during your career," the judge cooed and rumbled simultaneously. "Perhaps you are past your prime?"

The man grimaced as his score dropped to 179. "Clearly, you have not thought this argument through," the judge said. "While such flighty behavior may be appropriate for comic relief, your application of it is less than satisfactory."

"Th-that's-" The man snapped his fingers. "Wait! I wrote a short story once! It was even printed in the newspaper!"

"Oh, that?" The judge pored over the papers on its desk. Picking one up, it held the sheet to the mirror. "A hackneyed theme, coupled with substandard delivery and imperfect prose. A rather pretentious piece."

The numbers morphed to 167. "I-I played the piano when I was younger!" the man stammered.

"That you did," the judge agreed, tossing the sheet aside. "Unfortunately, you were simply unable to be exceptional. A simple case of zero talent. Regardless of how much you worked, you would never be the greatest." The score hit 150.

The man made a swiping motion with his arm. "I could learn to play! I could learn a different subject - I could raise my score with that!"

The judge shook its head. "You would take up valuable educational and nutritional resources. Not to mention, your personality leaves something to be desired."

"What?!" the man shouted. "I'm a generous person, and extremely caring too! How dare you say that I'm not worth keeping!"

The businessman snickered from his seat, not caring that his number decreased one. The little girl scratched her blond head in confusion.

The defendant's number went up, glowing from his chest. "That little gem of irony brought you three points," the judge stated bluntly.

Immediately, the score dropped seven points. "However, it was not an effective argument."

"I could learn! I could become a writer, or a musician! I could contribute to the arts! I could do anything!" the man pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

His score continued to decrease. The judge shook its head slowly. "You show no signs of imagination or innovation of any kind. No matter what you think of, someone else will think of it as well, and do it better."

"No!" the man cried, banging his fists onto the defendant's stand. "Give me a chance, I beg you!"

The judge moved its mirrored head. "There is no point in that. Whatever you do, another could do better." It raised a paper in its hand. "To prove it, I can recite twenty different people who uttered the same words upon this stand as you."

"I..." The businessman watched as the score on the man's heart reduced further. It eventually halted at 80, the defendant staring down at the digits in disbelief.

The little girl peered over the balcony at the man, hunched over in front of the stand. The businessman was riveted to the scene, heart pounding behind his monitor.

"This is stupid." The lone sentence slipped from the defendant's lips, echoing off of the metal walls.

The judge cocked its head. "Are you making a statement?"

"This is stupid!" the man yelled, leaping over the stand, running across the courtroom. He jumped onto the table, seizing the judge by the collar.

The jury stood up in panic, though they could do nothing. The armors rushed forward, but they were halted by the judge's outstretched hand.

The man clenched his teeth, not caring that his number was rapidly falling. "This is moronic. What the hell gives you the right to decide whether we get to live or die? Human lives can't be put on a scale, you prick!"

If the judge could have raised its eyebrows, it would have. "But the score system has been in place for quite some time. It is the solution for overpopulation."

39. "Well, I think it's idiotic," the man seethed, clutching its robes tighter. "Each one of us has something special to offer! You can't possibly call yourself a real judge if you don't consider that!"

25. "False," the judge stated. "Ultimately, lesser beings will detract from superiors. This world is dying; only the worthy can survive."

9. "You don't know anything about us, you psychopath!" The man drew his fist back. "Each of us can offer something no one else can! Each of us deserves to live! I deserve to live! Because I'm unique!"

His fist rocketed forward as the lone number fell on his chest, to six, five, three,-

One. The man's knuckles crashed against the mirror of the judge's face. Not a crack marred its surface, as if it were made of the same twisted metal that bound the courtroom. At the same time, his monitor had stopped counting down.

The man drew back, astonished. His panic was reflected in the judge's untouched face. The businessman leaned forward, on the edge of his seat.

The judge chuckled. One, simple, devastating laugh. "There it is," it said, waving its gavel in amusement. "Unique. The definitive argument of every Unneeded."

It loomed forward, becoming a menacing wall of black. "Unique is simply the argument of a coward. A coward afraid that his score will not match the others. It is to say 'I can't be judged!' It is to deny responsibility for one's own inferiority. To say that you're 'unique' or 'special' is utter nonsense! Even you humans have an understanding of good and bad, of better and worse. Ultimately, you will be judged for what you have done with your circumstances." This was met with a consensus of nods from the jury.

The judge drew back, raising its gavel. "This court hereby pronounces you Unneeded!"

The gavel struck down, the condemnation resounding through the courtroom. Just as it did, the judge's mirror shattered, glass and silver falling down its front. And at the same time, the defendant's score hit zero.

The man was motionless for a second, time seeming to hang in the air. The businessman juror went wide-eyed. "No," he murmured, hoping the score-counter wouldn't pick it up.

The man slumped, tumbling backwards. He hit the ground with arms splayed out, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. The armors swarmed his body, lifting it up and carrying it from the courtroom. The businessman knew it would be dissected later, so as not to waste anything.

The judge raised its face, now simply a void of black, to look at the jury. Without eyes, it seemed to peer into their souls. "May you fulfill your roles in this society as well," it said.

With that, it disappeared.

Slowly, the holograms began to flicker out one by one. The people disconnected from the scene, moving on with their genius, extraordinary lives. 

The businessman remained seated, staring at the shards of the mirror on the judge's stand. The cold thud of the defendant's body echoed from beyond the silence.

The holograms zipped from the realm of pitch-black steel, leaving the businessman alone in the jury seats.

Or rather, alone except for one person: the little girl. She seemed to be smiling and clapping, giggling adorably. She was exceptionally cute, and that was what allowed her to live.

The businessman nearly sobbed as he saw her score go up.