Jury Duty II: Jury Harder
It might have been unfair to call Vapor Lock a bad pony, perhaps because in the eyes of those forced by occupation, economics, and transfer requests which hadn't quite finished processing yet, it would have been unfair to call her a pony at all. The pegasus who worked the inquiry desk in Canterlot's courthouse tended to move as if she was being operated by slow-rusting clockwork, at least for the gears which still functioned. There were parts which had burnt out long ago, and certain sections of the brain had never been installed.
Vapor, as far as anypony could tell, was incapable of actual thought. She ran on Guidelines. She followed Procedures. For everything a pony might say to her -- a pony on the other side of the thick, spell-reinforced glass, unable to reach her in any way -- there was an Approved Answer. Which was to say it had been approved by Forms, which were all Vapor ever seemed to approve of.
She had been behind the glass for more than three decades and during all that time, she had never looked up to see who was approaching her. Her gaze never shifted off the paperwork. Several desperate-to-escape coworkers had initially concluded that the neck joints were still sitting in the master build kit box, but the truth was that Vapor had decided long ago that ultimately, ponies weren't important, and things which weren't important had no chance of getting her true attention. Forms were important, while Procedures held all the answers. And so she passed her working hours through dedicatedly bringing her particular brand of low-grade misery to others, followed by going home and, to the best of anypony's guess, attaching herself to multiple rewinders in order to get her springs ready for the next day.
There was a line in front of the Inquiries window on that early morning, because there always was. Vapor could tell just how many ponies were in it just from the sounds of shuffling hooves added to lashing tails, and cared about none of it. Caring was no part of Procedure. But she did keep count: doing so told her just how many Forms she might be consulting. And so she knew there were currently forty-eight ponies in the line. Forty eight ponies who were, for the most part, rather unhappy about having to be in the courthouse at all, and nearly all of whom would be no happier after dealing with Vapor. It was Vapor's job to answer Inquiries, and the majority of Procedures dictated that she answer them with "No."
It might have been unfair to call Vapor a bad pony, and there were those who would claim inaccuracy if you called her a pony at all. But if you looked closely into the partially-intermeshing gears which made up her heart, you might have found something which Forms had not brought into being, and the pony on the approach was about to learn that the head of Inquiries took true pleasure in her job.
Vapor noted sound, because looking at ponies wasn't important. She knew the funeral dirge which made up a shuffling Inquiries line, and so was slightly surprised to hear it turning into more of a forced march. Which was to say, there had been forty-eight ponies in the line, including the one she was currently "No"-ing. Then a forty-ninth had trotted up: heavy hooffalls, some echo of shoes against the dirty marble floor. That pony had gotten in line, and then the line had -- marched. Some had gone left, others had chosen the right, a few pegasi had chosen to move more or less straight up, one unicorn had teleported out, and each march away from the Inquiries those ponies no longer cared to have answered allowed the new arrival to take a few more hoofsteps towards the glass.
And then there was no line at all. Just Vapor, all the other ponies on her side of the glass (and she felt that they were looking at something, heard their deep breaths and little gasps, wondered why fools expended energy on the unnecessary), the one whose day she was just about finished Procedurally ruining -- and the new arrival, who was standing right behind him.
She heard that stallion slowly turn, trying to see what everypony else was foolishly looking at.
"Er," the stallion said, which might have been the best choice of the available lot.
"I will wait," the new mare arrival stated.
"I can --" the stallion tried, which was a lot further down the list.
"I. Will. Wait."
It was not an angry voice. It wasn't particularly insistent. It didn't do anything more than make the reinforced glass vibrate, a sound Vapor didn't initially identify because it had never happened before.
"...okay," the stallion finally decided. And not without a certain futile valiance, he turned back to Vapor. "So if there's any chance --"
"No," Vapor formally (or Formally) declared.
Number 298 sighed.
"I... okay," he said, because it wasn't and there was nothing he could do about it. The stallion turned and began to trot away from the glass.
There was a rather audible pause.
"Good luck," the stallion offered. (There was an odd note to those words, and Vapor promptly disregarded it.)
"Next," the Inquiries clerk said, and the mare trotted forward.
"I wish," the mare steadily stated, "to have this --"
"-- form?"
A pause.
"Repeat that," the mare said. There was an odd accent to her voice, something Vapor had never heard before. It didn't come across as a particularly old-fashioned accent. It would have had to gain centuries in order to become merely old-fashioned.
"Pass me your form," Vapor told her. "I don't speak to anypony until I have their form, because that is how I know who they are. There is a thin slot at the base of the glass. It will admit the paper. And only the paper. Did you bring your form?"
She heard feathers rustle, and then her gaze registered the only thing she would ever care to learn about the mare: the paper which slid through to her side. It was surrounded by a hint of dark corona, which winked out as the paper cleared the gap.
(Feathers rustling, plus a corona. There were thousands of ponies who would have thought about that. And then there was Vapor, who didn't.)
"Very well," she said, looking at the important part. "So, 331 -- what is your inquiry?"
There was an exceptionally deep breath.
"Explain this summons."
Oh, so it was one of those. Vapor's right foreleg stretched towards the appropriate cabinet (#300-600), and her head dipped long enough to sort out the proper folder before raising as much as it ever did. And then Procedure took over.
"Are you an adult?"
Which was when the first pair of coworkers simply abandoned the office.
Tightly, "I believe it would be fair to say that if there is a minimum age standard for something, I likely have galloped past it."
There were certain things which Procedures were designed to ignore, and that list included blatant sarcasm. "Are you a citizen of Equestria?"
Three more fled.
"I also believe," the mare decided, "that as answers go, 'Yes' might be found to be somewhat of an understatement. Is there any chance that you might wish to look up --?"
"-- are you registered to vote?"
Which left Vapor alone in the office. Good. It was just her and the Forms. That was the best way. Forms didn't try to have relationships with each other, at least until paper clips and staplers got involved.
There was a long pause. "I recently cast a ballot for the mayoralty. To vote on Day and Night Court representatives might be seen as a conflict of --"
"-- then you have confirmed what is on your form, 331." Vapor took an automatic glance at the folder, because extra confirmation was grease for the gears of her soul --
-- her eyes widened. (It was a pity that everypony else had left the enclosure, as there was a standing bet on whether her eyes were even capable of that and without witnesses, the wager would remain forever unsettled.)
"It says here," Vapor declared, the first hint of outrage beginning to touch her voice, "that there have been summons sent to your residence." (She didn't look at the address. The address mattered as much as the pony: not at all.) "Multiple summons. I've never seen so many go unanswered!" A page flipped. "And this group, and -- and this group, and..." Another. "Are you aware that failure to answer a summons carries a fine? Do you have any concept of how many bits you may need to pay?"
Another pause, which gave Procedures the chance to take over again.
"I was detained," the mare stated.
"Unavoidably, I suppose," Vapor countered.
"It would have been... better to avoid it," the mare softly replied. "Suffice it to say that I was not available. For some time. You might think of it as having been out of the country. Or you could look up -- "
"You are a citizen, 331," Vapor said. "You are an adult who is registered to vote. Your eligibility is confirmed, by your own words. The summons is valid. Equestria is owed your service, and you will serve. Please give any excuses you might have for not being able to during the proper part of the questioning, which you will shortly be brought to. Here is your most current summons. Detach the paper badge, moisten the glue area, and wear it at the base of your neck at all times. The waiting area is down the hallway to your left. The fine payment office can be visited at the end of the day, or you can wait for the bill to arrive in the mail." And then, just as Procedures dictated, "Welcome to jury duty. Next."
The mare didn't move.
"I ask from something other than pure concern," she said. "Is there something wrong with your neck?"
"Next."
"Also, your eyesight. I have noticed that you do not read the names on the forms. Or the addresses. Perhaps a recent head injury --"
"Next."
"There are certain curses --"
"Next!"
Shortly after the Return, Luna had entered a rather intensive catch-up period, which had been meant to give her some idea of what had happened during all the centuries she'd spent in abeyance. Moons spent in review, desperately trying to gain any kind of picture regarding lost events, while knowing she would never be able to learn all of it. There had been private tutors, long trips into the deepest parts of the Canterlot Archives, inspection of ancient documents -- and she now realized that every last part of that multi-pronged attack could have been simplified because in truth, the only thing necessary would have been to escort her into the juror waiting area and leave her alone with the magazines.
She inspected one nearby cover and in doing so, invented carbon dating. Not that she had any idea as to how a coating of carbon had gotten on the thing, but it had clearly been there for quite some time.
Luna looked around again. There were benches, and they were all too small. Of course, for her, this was a standard thing: no more welcome for its near-constant frequency, but -- expected. In this case, there were roughly five hundred ponies occupying the area, there were benches provided for perhaps half that number, and every last potential resting place was too small for the average pony. Pipsqueak would have needed to do some wriggling before settling in, and any desire for true comfort might have created an insincere wish to further cut down on his size through, just for example, having his backside gobbled. It had left ponies leaning against the walls, and there wasn't enough wall space to accommodate everypony. The room didn't have a particularly high ceiling, which confined the pegasi. A few had settled down to the floor, but that was the mistake. The floor was where the discarded food was.
There wasn't enough wall space, there weren't enough benches, there was insufficient room for the local population, period -- and there was still a bubble of space around Luna, who had given up on every bench and simply chosen to stand in one of the narrow aisles. There was just barely enough room for her legs (after she squeezed her hoof planting together into a completely uncomfortable posture), and it had frozen her into facing left as the only readily available option.
A multitude of ponies could be viewed to the left, if from some distance away. Occasionally, one of them would glance at her and, as soon as they realized she could see it happening, quickly stopped.
She waited. There was very little else to do, mostly because a true expedition through history could take moons of time and at any rate, she wasn't going to touch anything else without protection.
The sound of a slow trot got her attention, and Luna spotted a small green earth pony mare coming down her aisle. The approach closed to within three body lengths, and then stopped.
"You're Princess Luna."
Luna once again revised her opinion of average pony intelligence downwards.
"...what are you doing here?" the mare carefully tried.
However, courage deserved to be rewarded. "I received a summons. Like everypony else. And so I am told I must serve for one day if I am not chosen, or one trial if I am -- whatever the duration of that trial may be."
"...but it's day."
The room was fully enclosed, and so no sunlight entered. Thusly, there was no immediate means available of proving her complete lack of ability to burst into flame upon contact.
"Yes," Luna agreed, words barely coated by the fraying illusion of a completely false patience. "Sun being in the sky would generally be the first hint. Is there a way in which I might assist you?"
"Um..." The earth pony took a slow breath. "There's a movie."
"A movie," Luna repeated. Well, that had the potential to add something beneficial to her service.
"Yes. They show it to everypony who's summoned. No matter how many times you've been here and seen it. They'll be bringing in the projector in a few minutes."
"That is good to know," Luna decided -- but knew that wasn't the whole of it. "And you are telling me this because...?"
"You're..." The mare swallowed. "...standing in the aisle. Facing to the side. And you're kind of... well... um..."
Mercy, Luna decided, was a rather underrated part of rulership.
"Tall."
"...yes."
"So you would rather that I stand against the wall."
"...I'm sorry..."
She tried not to sigh.
"I cannot take off at the moment," Luna stated, "and I would rather not back out of this aisle. If you would lead the way?"
The mare put her legs into reverse. Luna followed. Anything which allowed her own legs to approach a normal gait also knocked over at least one bench.
After a while, she had a portion of wall (and nearly the whole surface) to herself, and patiently watched as the projector was wheeled in, then loaded with a single reel. A short subject, then. Well, that hardly mattered, except for where it would take up so much less of her service. Quality could be found in any length of production.
The screen was set up. Lights went down. Images flickered.
"Welcome!" the beaming black-and-very-very-white face of her sister exclaimed, with the arrival of the words in Luna's ears not quite matching their appearance on the elder's lips. "And greetings to all of my little ponies who have given up their time in the name of Justice. You have been summoned to perform what may be the most vital service you may ever perform for our nation. Some have even called it the highest service a pony can aspire to!"
Her sister, Luna decided, was almost looking at the camera. There was certainly a sincere effort being made to regard something in that general direction, which was likely the word-bearing placards on the other side. And those words were just as certainly being read, quite possibly for the very first time. The pacing suggested a degree of internal translation before each could be released. The soundtrack, as what would turn out to be the fourth ever recorded, crackled and hissed and tried to render it all back into Griffonant.
"And before you can begin," the film added, "it's important to know just how crucial that service is. How the need for it arose, and why I'm asking you to fill it today. Well over a thousand years ago --" a shaky glow of sunlight hoisted a poorly-drawn picture, just before the entire image (and filmstrip) jerked to the right "-- before Equestria was truly brought together --"
Production budget happened and, after running out thirty seconds into the reel, filed for full creative bankruptcy, which then allowed the whole thing to continue while desperate viewers completely failed to claim so much as a single second of actual entertainment.
"Your pardon," Luna said.
The lights came up. The projector stopped. Its operator stared at her.
"Princess?"
"Are we being punished?"
"...no."
"Ah. Proceed."
The benches in the courtrooms were longer models (if still too narrow), and so it was possible to gain a degree of lesser discomfort.
Groups were assembled more or less at random, and the luck of the draw had put Luna in with the green earth pony mare. There was an hour in the waiting area, most of which Luna spent mentally revising the government's future educational reel budget, and then their group had been called into Courtroom Three. Fifty ponies, and the first sixteen were placed into the jury box to be questioned.
Luna was used to seeing that, if not from her current positioning within the courtroom. There were questions, because prosecution, defense, and judge were entitled to learn about the lives of those who would determine a pony's fate. The things those potential jurors might have done, any beliefs they carried which could influence their decision. There were also some inquiries as to whether a given pony could serve at all, and many of those came from the ones being questioned. They claimed outside commitments. Jobs which nopony else could do. Children who would find nopony at home when they returned from school, and those parents were dismissed.
Ponies talked, and some were asked to speak with the judge for a moment. Others had judge, prosecutor, and defender together. Some of those ponies returned to the box, a few were sent home, and still more were told that they weren't suitable for the current case, but would return to the waiting area until another screening began. Ultimately, Luna was familiar with all of it, for across the centuries, the questions had not changed.
Unfortunately, they also didn't change when they reached her.
"Have you..." The prosecutor swallowed. "...ever been convicted of any crime?"
The other fifteen ponies in the jury box were now pressed against the outermost edges of it.
"Several," Luna tersely said.
The prosecutor, who truly didn't deserve any of it, swallowed again.
"Would you list them, please?"
"My service is for one day or one trial," Luna steadily countered. "That is correct?"
"Yes..."
"Then we do not have the time required for a full accounting. Will a representative sample suffice?"
"...what..." A flickering corona tugged at the edge of the garment around his neck. "...what was the worst thing you've ever been convicted of?"
Luna thought it over.
"There was a nation," she eventually said, "and the past tense should be noted, along with the fact that 'nation' is something of a drastic overstatement. I was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death."
Several pegasi spontaneously entered molting season.
"...what -- what was the charge?"
"The charge was 'being an unnatural freak who needs to die,'" Luna replied. "For evidence, they offered my existence. Then they decided to end it. It was rather swift justice, especially given that the law had only been created during the previous hour."
The judge shifted forward on her own bench.
"What happened?"
"They executed me," Luna answered.
Ponies blinked.
"Or rather, they executed us, as there was a co-defendant who, rather unsurprisingly, was also found guilty. Again, as we are rather limited in time, if you truly wish the full details of the case and subsequent escape, it would become necessary to bring in the second surviving criminal --"
"-- and that's the worst thing?" the prosecutor just barely managed.
"It may depend on one's perspective," Luna thoughtfully considered. "Being sentenced to death was somewhat more common, and so might carry greater weight. However, there are those who would argue that being ordered into a lifetime of torture would be more severe. After that, one must look to slavery, which was not only legal in many places, but trials were looked upon as a means of increasing the labor pool --"
The judge shakily cleared her throat.
"Princ --" she started, and then stopped. "Miss --" Visibly rejected that. "Madam --"
"'Miss' will suffice," Luna offered. "All are equal within the jury, correct?"
The outer walls of the jury box were now under somewhat less pressure.
"Miss -- Luna..."
"Invictus," Luna helpfully supplied.
"Miss Invictus," the judge tried on for size, not quite making it fit, "exactly how many death and -- other sentences... are you currently under?"
"That would depend," Luna considered.
"On...?"
"Would you consider a sentence to still be in effect if the judge, system of law, and very nation had long since ceased to exist?"
This time, the judge swallowed.
"And the... more current..." Stopped, aware of the dark eyes which had just focused on her.
"The more current what?"
"...events..."
"Such as?"
The judge forced her head up, and nearly everypony in the courtroom wound up looking at the ceiling.
"Ah," Luna stated. "For that particular case, the guilty party was sentenced to dispersion. This was carried out, with some rather welcome efficiency. Why do you ask?"
The judge blinked.
"But -- you're right here..."
"Yes," Luna replied. "I am, as you say, right here."
Everypony waited until the jury box had stopped vibrating.
"My criminal career," Miss Luna Invictus stated, "created through the reasoning of those who wished to see crimes, is long and storied. It also happens to be dust. And if any nation which has crossed the years cares to enforce whatever charges may remain, they only need explain their reasoning and rather odd statutes of limitations to our embassies. I look forward to hearing their arguments, just as much as they likely await my rebuttal. Your next question?"
The waiting room was somewhat emptier now. Ponies had been chosen to serve as jurors, and so had been removed from the pool. Others had been dismissed. A few might have been trying to sneak out early for lunch: arguably an act of courage. The foolhardy were looking towards the vending machines.
Luna did not count herself among the foolhardy. In her case, the attention had been born from something else entirely.
"...Princess?" She glanced down at the green mare. "Do you need -- any help?"
"I would benefit," Luna said, "from qualifiers added to your inquiry."
The mare's face went through several odd twitches.
Luna tried not to sigh. "Help with what, exactly?"
"The machine," the mare offered. "I was thinking... when I saw you looking at the machines, that they had to be new to you, there probably aren't any in the palace and -- you might have never seen them before, you don't know how they work, and --"
"-- vending machines," and she was surprised by the gentleness of her own tone, "are from my era."
The little mare blinked.
"Really?"
"Well, not the earliest part," Luna admitted. "But they are but clockwork. The scales accept the coin, test the weight. Buttons shift gears. If the weight is sufficient for the directed arrangement, the little door opens, and one extracts the contents." She was still looking at the closest of the machines: about two-thirds of a typical pony's height, perhaps twice as long, covered in dozens of those tiny doors. "They have existed for a long time. There was even a fashion for a restaurant which was naught but walls covered in miniature gateways. One paid, one opened, and -- one, quite frankly, hoped for the best, because one also had no idea how long that food had been sitting there before it was paid for. Perhaps that was the central reason why such establishments eventually failed. But vending machines... they remain."
"That old," the lightly awed mare said.
"Yes."
"Then if you know how to work it -- why are you staring?" With some worry, "Did you forget to bring money? A lot of first-time jurors forget to bring money."
"The leftmost window. Third row. I recognize the brand."
Open confusion. "Oh?"
"I am not certain you understand."
"Um..."
"I recognize that brand because it existed prior to abeyance."
"...and?"
"It no longer exists."
They both stared at the wrapper for a while.
"...is it moving?" the mare finally asked.
"Not on its own. The little jumps are produced by doors opening and closing along the rows. Simple vibration."
"That's -- good..."
"However, should the glow shift to dark purple, run."
All were supposedly equal within the jury box. This was a lie. In Luna's rapidly-growing experience (and irritation), some were less equal than others.
Nopony had been willing to outright dismiss her, perhaps because doing so would have constituted a level of dismissal, and she knew many citizens were reluctant to speak words in front of alicorns which might resemble an order. But at the same time, nopony had accepted her. She would be taken into a courtroom with what remained of her group. (After the numbers had truly diminished, groups were merged.) Some sortings would place her into the jury box immediately: others meant she had to wait. But eventually, there would be questions. And once those began...
"Do you have any -- duties which would prevent you from being able to serve?"
"Unless something unusual is occurring," Luna patiently said, "my duties take place during the night. The courtroom has the majority of its business during the day, and as I have been summoned to a day session, I presume the trial would take place then as well."
"But -- you, during the day --"
"There is time to sleep between the end of my duties and the beginning of each court day," she tried. "Additional hours exist after leaving this place and beginning those duties again. I would be sleeping in split shifts, yes. But I would be sleeping. Am I not here in the name of Justice? Is this not the highest service I could aspire to? Then allow me to make my own decision regarding my rest, while you make the rather sensible one of --"
"Do you have any... um... experience with the -- law?"
"We have already discussed my criminal history."
"No," the newest defense attorney swallowed. "The law. In general. Have you practiced it? Been any part of it?"
"I have composed laws," Luna stated. "When the Night Court votes on new laws, I sign them into validity for those statutes which are within my dominion, or choose that there shall be no law through pushing those bills away. Additionally, I have the option to serve as a judge for certain cases, although I have not done so for some time. There are even charges which would require it. This is rather basic information, which somepony who graduated law school would have normally acquired around the kindergarten level --"
"-- I have to ask these questions, Miss... Invictus?"
Which produced an extremely dry "Really."
"I have to ask everypony these questions, if things go far enough. You heard me asking --"
"-- that I did." She held back the sigh. "Your next, then." And braced herself.
"And is... anypony in your -- family... involved with the law?"
"Do you have a preexisting opinion on the recent ruling which required licensing for all public castings of Borwyn's Turner?"
"Yes. My opinion is that the judge was doing his job. And as the one who appointed him to what I am assuming is a very comfortable bench, I find his performance in said job to be quite satisfactory. Why do you ask?"
"Have you ever had previous contact with a kudu?"
It produced a moment of silence.
"That would depend."
This time, the judge tried to intervene. "This isn't a question with degrees of truth involved. Either you've met --"
"-- well," Luna thoughtfully mused, "would you consider a duel to the death as 'contact'?"
And then she would be back in the waiting room. She was just about the only pony who was still going back to the waiting room, and was certainly the only one there now.
She wrote laws. She had overseen cases. There were ponies who trotted into her Open Palace sessions under the delusion that she was there to serve as an arbitrator. She was half the rulership of a nation. And somehow...
"...P-p-p-p-rincess?"
The now-familiar voice made her glance towards shivering green fur. "Is there something else?" Luna asked, words emerging with more speed and force than she'd originally intended. "A place I need to be guided? A question which some lawyer failed to ask before sending me back here, and must ask it now before I can be rejected properly? Have I reached the maximum number of courtrooms for the day? Does another portion of the vending machine require disarming --"
"-- it's... really c-c-c-cold in here..."
Luna looked around. Saw the frost sparkling on benches which nopony had bothered to right again. The thin coating of ice spreading across the floor, everywhere she'd been pacing. Most of that had been confined to the room's perimeter. Some had taken out more benches.
She took a slow breath. And then she took another.
"I apologize," she said, and briefly closed her eyes. "The temperature will return to normal."
"Does... that happen a lot?"
Only when I'm upset.
When I'm not thinking about why I'm upset, and I'm just -- being upset.
When I'm keeping it all inside.
The little green mare was -- there. Had been there all day...
"Too often," Luna sighed. "Still too often. When there is much to think about, and the right thoughts will not come."
"What -- what were you thinking about?"
Luna curled her right wing: a gesture which signaled the mare to follow. After a moment, the earth pony hurried to match her trot.
It took a while to find the least fouled portion of floor, and then Luna sank down to all four knees. The better to look her only possible confidant directly in the eyes.
"Accomplishments," she finally answered.
"What kind?"
"All kinds. Everything I have ever done -- at least when it comes to the positive acts. A nation built. Wars won. Laws written and judgments spoken." Wryly, "All of the things, viewed through the eyes of the courtroom, which make me completely unsuitable to serve on a jury."
The mare said nothing.
"They choose. They choose anypony else. They have nearly chosen everypony else. And here I am, when there is almost nopony left to choose. It is enough to make me wonder what I have done -- if it was not for all the things which some ponies believe I had done, still believe --"
"-- you're too smart."
Luna blinked.
The little mare shivered again. Fur ruffled.
"I get summoned a lot," the earth pony said. "It's just weird luck, the way my number keeps coming up. I'm here at least once a year. So I hear a lot of questions, and I've wound up in the jury box for a few cases. I hear the same questions, and -- after a while, I figured out what the lawyers really wanted. They'll tell you they want ponies who can think about evidence and come to the right judgment using nothing but the evidence, like the Princess said in the movie. But that's not how it works. The prosecution wants you to find somepony guilty. The defense wants you to declare that same pony as innocent. So they're both looking for a jury they can -- talk into things. And you're really smart: anypony just has to talk to you for a minute before they realize how smart you are. Plus you've got experience. You could... think about the evidence, instead of what you were being told to think. And after closing arguments, when we were all back in the room, talking together -- ponies would listen to you. So if the prosecution is right, the defense is afraid to have you there, and if the defense could hold, the prosecutor's the one who challenges you out of the jury box. You're just too smart to serve."
She thought it over.
"So you are saying," Luna tried, "that a system designed to allow a pony to be judged by their peers -- has instead produced something which counts on gathering the best possible collection of gullible idiots."
"More or less," the little mare sadly replied.
For the second time that day, Luna revised her opinion of average pony intelligence downwards. The specific pony in front of her, however...
"And why are you in the waiting room with me?"
"I've served on too many juries. A lot of lawyers know me by now, and how my cases came out. If somepony doesn't recognize me, then -- well, you heard: some of the questions are about what you've done before. I've been here often enough to figure things out, and... I guess I'm not suitable either. So I just come in to see if I get lucky, get through the system somehow, and if I don't -- I've met some friends. Nopony who was here today, but this is the main place we see each other, and... well, it's almost over. They'll be sending us home in a few more minutes. But I'll be back within a year, with the way my luck gallops."
Luna nodded. Then she yawned.
The little mare blinked. Worriedly, "Princess?"
"It is nothing you said," Luna assured her. "I have simply been awake for an unusual amount of time. But as you said -- not much longer --"
"-- 331? Is 331 in here?"
They both turned, and so became two of the only prospective jurors who would ever see Vapor Lock outside the safety of her enclosure. Luna noted that her eyes were grey, and slightly clouded.
"Yes," Luna replied. "That would be me."
The pegasus finally looked at her. Somewhat.
"I was reviewing your file," she said. "Because I couldn't believe that a pony had failed to answer so many summons. Year after year of failing to appear." A pause. "Incidentally, the fine payment office now has your total, if you want to stop there before you leave. Otherwise, you will receive a bill in the mail, and if you fail to pay it --"
"-- was there something else?" Luna slowly inquired.
"Yes," Vapor officiously stated. "I have been searching the entire building to find you. Because I counted your failures to appear. Are you aware that beyond a certain age, answering a summons becomes voluntary?"
"Does it?" Luna asked.
"And you are beyond that age." Without any hint of confusion, much less understanding, "In fact, even once I disregarded the paperwork which had clearly been produced by accidental copying, you had been well beyond it for -- some time. So I have come to ask. Do you wish to continue answering summons?"
Luna looked at the little mare. The earth pony looked at her.
"Yes," Luna finally stated, glancing back at the pegasus. "Perhaps there will come a day when I will be chosen to serve. And in the meantime -- it is a day out."
"Then I will make a notation on your forms accordingly," Vapor replied. And then, because she knew how to say very little else, "Welcome to jury duty."
"I have been."
The mare began to trot out --
-- turned.
"I found another error on your forms."
"Oh?"
"The 'species' question. All three options had been checked off. Submit a correction by mail. Or fill out the new forms when you pay your fine."
"...I am... not certain how you expect me to --"
-- but Vapor had already left.
Luna's lightly-stunned gaze eventually found itself resting on the smiling green face.
"Vapor doesn't really look at things a lot," the mare said. "Somepony said she still comes to work on Return Day. It may take her until retirement to realize it's a day off now, and I'm not sure she'll ever know why."
Still somewhat stunned, "Discord?"
"She would have made him provide birth information."
"The invasion?"
"Non-citizens. Can't serve. If it's not in her enclosure, or in a Form... well, she's just -- part of the experience." A little giggle. "Maybe she should be in the next movie."
"She would," Luna considered, "likely provide a better reading..."
And then it was over. Ponies who'd been chosen slowly trotted out of the courthouse, fur pressed down by the weight of sudden responsibility. Two of those who'd been rejected left together.
"It is Unanimi, correct? I heard your name several times during the questioning, but I am uncertain as to whether anypony ever pronounced it properly."
"Yes. And that's pretty close. Most ponies put more stress on the second syllable."
"Unanimi. Understood. Now, as I failed to bring money with me today -- a mistake I shall not make a second time -- I believe I owe you some bits. I also owe myself some tea. Wake-up juice. I may be desperate enough for coffee. All of these problems, along with the one where we find dinner without owing you more bits, can be solved at the palace. So should you have no other appointments, would you care to follow me?"
"I... me -- me in the palace...?"
"It is an invitation. Do you accept?"
"-- yes. It'll be nice to have dinner with somepony I met on jury duty, and -- food you don't have to disarm."
"Incidentally," Luna offered, "would you like to know the story of how 'disarming' entered the Equestrian language, given our lack of the required limbs?" She hesitated. "Admittedly, it is a rather old tale, and some might not find it appropriate conversation to be conducted before a meal. To begin with, it involves dragons --"
"-- very much."
They trotted along and after a while, Luna dropped her pace, matching Unanimi's slower movements.
It had been a long day, and she was tired. Dinner awaited them. But there was a true story being told. And there was no hurry.
Author's Note
Thanks are offered to ChudoJogurt, who told me about the true age of vending machines and so set up that bit.
