ode to lawyers

This for my brother, who asked for it; it’s one story I’m writing, I was going to make it a bit longer but decided to add the last paragraph instead.

Cicero stepped off the shuttle in Hamrabar and looked around; after all, he thought, this is going to be my new home for the next two-and-a-half years.” He knew that law school normally took three years, but I’m going to complete it in 2½, he promised himself. He wasn’t impressed by the spaceport: there was just one building, and he guessed you picked up your luggage and hired transportation there, if necessary. Luckily my bags were sent ahead to the school, he told himself. He boarded the bus that would take him to his new home and then waited, tapping his foot on the floor, while the bus slowly filled up. He took out his i-world, plugged in his head phones and put on his Rock playlist to make waiting easier.

When he next looked up, the scenery was rapidly moving by; he looked around within the bus and saw that every seat, including the one next to him, was occupied. The young man was giving him a dirty look; he gave one back, with interest. Just because I move to my music, he thought with a scowl, that doesn’t entitle him to complain. He added a gesture, to make clear his disapproval and turned to look out the window. The view out the window was mostly trees and grass, so he disappeared back into rock ‘n roll, not caring what the idiot in the seat next to him thought.

He was partially concentrating on the bus’s movement, so when it began to slow, he realized it immediately. He shut off his i-world, packed it back in its stainless steel case—can never be too careful with my baby—and made his way forward. Wanting his first view of the Douglas MacArthur Law School, he thought it odd that a law school should be named after a general, but as long as it was a good school, he didn’t much care. Not even noticing the people he bumped or the looks and words that were directed at him, he grasped the bar on the ceiling and gazed out the windshield.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the huge rotunda on the new technology building. The bus came to a complete stop, and he nearly went through the windshield. That’s why I’m holding on to this bar, he reminded himself. A MacArthur school ambassador greeted the bus and its passengers, of which he was the first one off.

Then a death star—Hey, I didn’t call for a death star—appeared above the planet that was home to the most prestigious law schools and law firms. Hey this planet isn’t Alderaan. The massive weapon powered its laser and fired. Having no jedi to save the day, Hamrabar was vaporized and a cheer went up from the rest of the universe.


Note: no actual lawyers were harmed in the writing of this piece.


Excerpt of conversation between Mark and me:
Me: you'll be happy to know that, in the stories I've written and am in the process of writing, I haven't killed any lawyers.
Mark: What's stopping you? Sheesh
Me: I can't just put all lawyers on a planet and do it Alderaan style, it has to fit. This is the relevant part of my conversation.