That's a great refinement — it The Obse
The bus hissed to a stop before the Civic Court Building, its white columns etched with the nation's promise:
ORDER. PROGRESS. PURITY.
Kalani Armstrong stepped off with the rest of her senior class, the October air crisp and metallic. Their teacher herded them toward the scanners.
When the guard passed the wand over Oliver Rowe's gray armband, the reader chirped sharply.
"Zone One resident," he announced. "Monitored section."
Oliver only nodded. He was used to the sound, the stares, the pause that always followed.
Inside, the courtroom spread like a cathedral of authority— marble floors, drone cameras hovering above, and the great circular bench where the Triad of Justice sat:
1. Judge of Law – keeper of the statutes.
2. Financial Analyst – assessor of stability and productivity.
3. Psychiatrist of Criminology – evaluator of mental and social fitness.
And above them, in a glass balcony lined with the silver crest of the Zone Authority, sat Dr. Kira Armstrong, Governor of Zone One.
It was unusual for a governor to attend a routine session. The students whispered about it— everyone knew she was there because her daughter was in the gallery below.
Kalani tried not to look up, but she could feel her mother's presence like gravity.
Oliver chose an empty bench off to the side. His uniform jacket was neatly pressed but old; his shoes—Zone-issue—scuffed at the toes. Kalani broke rank and sat beside him. Everyone knew she would. Everyone also knew not to comment too loudly while Dr. Armstrong was in the room.
The holographic banner above the bench flickered to life:
TRIAD COURT SESSION 48 — OBSERVERS: CHICAGO CIVIC HIGH SCHOOL, CLASS 2130.
---
Case One — State vs. Adrian Flores
Charge: Theft of food and supplies.
A man in his thirties stood trembling before the bench.
"I didn't steal," he said. "I was hungry. My kids—"
The Judge raised a hand. "Silence."
The Financial Analyst spoke first, eyes never leaving his tablet.
"Subject unemployed twelve months, two prior eviction notices, negative account balance. No record of financial recovery."
The Psychiatrist followed. "Displays dependency traits and poor impulse control."
The Judge looked to the Governor's balcony.
Dr. Armstrong leaned forward slightly. Her voice came through the speakers— calm, precise, almost soothing.
"Zone One placement. Indefinite."
The gavel struck. The man screamed as guards dragged him through the steel door marked Z-1.
Oliver stared straight ahead. Kalani's hand tightened around her pen until it cracked.The case didn't even last 3 minutes.
---
Case Two — State vs. Hannah Lowell
Charge: Federal Curfew Breach.
The next defendant was a girl, maybe sixteen, shaking as she stood before the Triad. She was a Zone 1 resident from her arm band. Kalani looked over at Oliver who looked more scared than the actual girl. Kalani grabbed his hand and continued to listen.
"I was five minutes late," she whispered. "The bus— it broke down."
The Judge frowned. "Five minutes is five minutes."
The Financial Analyst read her record. "First offense. Excellent academic record, stable household income for a zone resident. Parents are up for a review later this year."
The Psychiatrist hesitated. "No prior signs of instability. Recommend one-year Correctional term."
The Judge turned upward. "Governor?"
Dr. Armstrong's expression did not change.
"Correction confirmed. Juvenile Mental Correction Facility— twelve months."
The gavel fell. The girl burst into tears.
A murmur rippled through the students. Kalani couldn't look at her mother.
Oliver's voice, barely above a whisper: "She'll come out worse."
Kalani glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer.
The room became more and more silent as time went on. Each case grew more and intense. Not only was it hard to keep up with the notes but it was hard for her not to keep checking in on Oliver who's note pad was practically empty with every chase. He looked at people who he'd known his whole life and some he didn't know. These people are being quickly tried and with no way to appeal once the choice for there fate is made. Then there's Kalani who is trying to take in as much as possible unlike the rest of her classmates her family is in this world whether she like it or not
---
Case Seventy-Four - State vs. Leonard Pike
Charge: Murder.
The last defendant entered surrounded by guards, chains at his wrists. His face was calm. But his hands were bloody and almost black.
"You admit to killing Officer Ray Talbot?" the Judge asked.
"I admit to killing the man who shot my brother," he said. "Call it what you like."
The Psychiatrist scribbled a note. "Acute emotional volatility. No potential for rehabilitation."
The Financial Analyst said flatly, "No assets. No employment history. No dependents. He is another Zone 1 resident."
The Judge exhaled and looked to the glass balcony, he knew what was going to happen.
"Governor Armstrong?"
Dr. Armstrong's reply came like a closing door.
"Under Federal Punishment Act, Section Eight: capital sentence. Execution scheduled within seventy-two hours."
The man laughed once, sharp and bitter. "You people call this progress."
The gavel struck. The sound echoed like a shot. The man went away kicking and screaming. From there court was over and so was the innocence of the seniors.
---
The session ended. The students stood in silence as the guards cleared the room.
Kalani's teacher clapped briskly. "Write your observations— cause, recommendation, and sentencing outcome."
Around her, the other students whispered, some fascinated, some horrified.
Travis Wynn snorted. "Guess that's justice for you. Efficient."
Oliver adjusted his cuff. "Efficient," he repeated softly. "That's one word for it."
Kalani shot Travis a glare. "Cut it out."
"Relax," he said with a grin. "I'm just talking. Giving my opinions about our world and new justice system. Very unique compared to the rest of the world."
Outside, the late-afternoon sky was heavy with drone traffic. The class gathered by the courthouse steps to wait for their bus.
Oliver stood a little apart, as always. The gray light caught the worn fabric of his jacket and the faint glow of his armband.
Kalani stepped beside him. "You okay?"
He gave her a small, tired smile. "I just keep wondering what makes them think this is normal. People only have three choices jail disguised as rehabilitation, the Zone, or death."
Above them, the courthouse doors opened and Dr. Armstrong stepped out, flanked by a dozen security guards. Her gaze swept the students, cool and unreadable. People stepped out the way as the governor of the zone walk down the steps.
When her eyes met Kalani's, the governor gave the faintest nod— a signal of acknowledgment, not affection.
Kalani nodded back, her throat tight.
Oliver followed her gaze. "She was watching you the whole time."
"I know," Kalani whispered. "She always is."
The bus doors hissed open. As they climbed aboard, a soft chime from Oliver's armband reminded him of the curfew countdown: 4 hours, 37 minutes until Zone re-entry required.
They sat together in the back. Outside, Chicago glowed— a city proud of its order, its progress, its purity.
Kalani watched the skyline fade and wondered how something so perfect could feel so wrong.