Bank of Ingletopia v. Harrican Syldanade

(Author's Note: My sister Marjorie left me very thorough research -- thirty-eight huge boxes of it, in fact, even though she's been to my flat and she knows it is tiny. (My cat has been missing since the shipment's arrival.) Still, I cannot fault her dedication, and the stuff practically writes itself. I believe I shall work through it all alphabetically and then write a nice little "ABCs of Harrican Syldanade," assuming I can get the rhymes to work out before one of these stacks collapses and I am left to starve to death under a crushing pile of evidence, memoranda, and my own dead cat.)

The Bank of Ingletopia v. Harrican Syldanade (Terran Justice Division Court Case #BIvu-03/HSax-3220) is remembered, on the rare occasions it is remembered at all, as an extremely minor incident involving petty grievances, not worth anyone's time to think about. The trial's outcome was not reported anywhere, not even the dullest legal section of the dullest local newsjournal. If you ask the Terran Court Records Bureau, they will tell you that the transcript of this case has been missing for an indeterminate amount of time, and that they are not particularly interested in locating it. If you ask me, I will tell you that the transcript of this case is in one of the boxes cluttering my flat, that you will of course have a chance to read it yourself very soon, and that the surprising implications raised by its outcome may prove vital to clearing up some of the mysteries surrounding Harrican Syldanade.

Mysterious Acquittals
In Morduary of 1728, the Terran Department of Inquiry commissioned a task force to look into a matter that had been puzzling them for some time: why Harrican Syldanade continued to be acquitted in court, despite the fact that he was usually clearly, blatantly, guilty as sin and quite often admitted as much himself.

By this time, Syldanade had appeared in the defendant's chair 3,219 times for various civil suits, criminal suits, paternity suits, warship-parking violations, warship-moving violations, atrocity hearings (718 involving the Apelagic Generator alone) and one count of pinching a policeman's ritual gravik'jaa on Glyphship Race Night, for which he was fined five pounds of flesh.

With only two exceptions, the gravik'jaa incident and an expensive lawsuit brought against him by the Robotic Anti-Disassembly League, Syldanade was declared not guilty in every one of these cases, eventually arousing the suspicion of the Terran government and leading to the creation of the aforementioned task force, an action that would quickly beget spawnfruit. By no later than the first fiveday in Second Morduary of 1728, this newly-formed committee (who were by now referring to themselves as "Red Velvet" for some reason unknown to history), led by Shadow Forces commander Nigel Beam, had already come up with what they considered to be a brilliant, foolproof plan, which will not be revealed at this time for purposes of suspense.

Syldanade's History with the Bank of Ingletopia
According to his journal, Harrican Syldanade opened a cheque-and-deposit account with the Bank of Ingletopia (then known as the Upper Farthingside Explorers' Credit Union) on Val. the 3rd, 1703, for the sole purpose of acquiring a giveaway coin purse shaped like a rare Khestian water mammal. An excerpt from that day's entry reads:

"A coin purse resembling a lapinus lazanthum? What an amazing thing, and in complete anatomical detail! The ridges around the third stomach pouch are truly a joy to behold. I think I'll put it over my willy tonight and surprise Martha with it."

Whatever former Bank of Ingletopia president Watlington Burrow would write in his own diary that night has been scratched out heavily in black ink with a sharp-nibbed pen. In the margin next to it is written:

"I cannot bear to look upon how serene I was this day, not knowing the demon who would forever shatter my peace and happiness had already insinuated himself into my beautiful fortress and begun devising ways to make my every waking moment a fresh hell of endlessly-renewing torment. Whatever petty joys or concerns I might have had are irrelevant. TODAY MARKS NOTHING BUT THE BEGINNING OF THE END."

The calculation firm of Tavendish and Gleem has estimated that Syldanade cost the Upper Farthingside Explorers' Credit Union over eighteen hundred miskva in lost productivity, headache medicine, and replacement change machines over the remainder of 1703 alone, although this does not take into account the Ҩ8.50 the bank recouped from him that year in overdraft charges.

The Plan Goes Into Effect
On Smord. the 8th, 1728, the Terran government passed new legislation opening its courts to "mental anguish" trials, enabling any entity to sue any other entity, in the absence of criminal wrongdoing, for (to quote the bill) "crawling up its nose and yanking hairs, metaphorically speaking." The next day, Watlington Burrow, on behalf of the Bank of Ingletopia, filed suit against Harrican Syldanade. According to his diary, he may or may not have celebrated the occasion by smiling at a shopgirl:

"It had been so long since last I smiled that I am not sure I was using the proper muscles. In any case, I am sure I managed a happier grimace than ever before. The girl seemed terrified, certainly, but she didn't fetch a pistol. I believe this is what 'having a good day' feels like."

On Smord. the 10th, 1728, the Bank of Ingletopia received, and accepted, an offer of prosecutorial services free of charge from one Mr. Chank Allen, Lawyer From the Future.

Chank Allen, Lawyer From the Future
Having first made a name for himself as an up-and-coming young prosecutor in the sensational 1719 murder-drugs-and-sex trial of Pfeltian heiress-by-day Lady Clandestina Van Vyvyan, Chank Allen was by 1728 arguably the galaxy's most popular attorney. His shiny teeth and glittering silver antennae made him a sex symbol, his reputation for infallibility -- Allen's claim was that he would never take a case he hadn't already won, and indeed, he had yet to lose a case -- made him highly sought after as a lawyer, and he charged accordingly, commanding extravagant fees from his clients.

It is a bit surprising, therefore, for such a man to volunteer his services free of charge to anyone, let alone a small banking conglomerate with whom he had no personal connection. It is perhaps made less so by the fact that on Smord. the 9th, 1728, Chank Allen deposited a cheque from the Terran government in the amount of Ҩ50,000 for, as the memorandum line reads, "consultant's fees."

The Trial Itself
The complete and total lack of coverage the trial's outcome received is particularly interesting in light of the attention lavished upon it before it began -- attention that seems fitting, considering that the galaxy's most famous lawyer was about to go head-to-head with Harrican Syldanade, who by 1728 was notorious for so many different reasons that you literally could not pay me enough to list them.

On the last day of Second Morduary, 1728, after much anticipation, Terran Justice Division Court Case #BIvu-03/HSax-3220 was held in Room A of the Lower Farthingside Vested-Authority Branch Court. My sister no doubt took some pains to acquire the following transcript. For my part, I have taken some pains to authenticate it. I would like to assure you that, to the best of my knowledge, what you are about to read is exactly what transpired.

--BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION--

CHIEF STEWARD: This court will now convene in the matter of the Bank of Ingletopia versus Harrican Syldanade, the Hon. Eustace Beavers presiding. All rise.

JUDGE BEAVERS: Thank you. You may be seated. Mr. Allen, as the prosecutor in this case, you may now grace us with your opening remarks.

CHANK ALLEN: Meaning no disrespect, Your Honor, I did not feel it was necessary to prepare any opening remarks. Mr. Syldanade is so clearly, shockingly, insufferably guilty of causing great anguish to the aforementioned venerable institution, namely, the Bank of Ingletopia, that I doubt this trial will overtake lunchtime. I am so confident of this, in fact, that I've already made lunchtime reservations at a very nice restaurant for myself and the two most sexually adventurous members of the audience. [sparkling his teeth at the audience and creating much swooning]

JUDGE BEAVERS: Oh? Good heavens. All right, then, Mr. Allen, you may solicit your first testimonial. Just the testimonial, mind you, nothing else.

CA: Understood, Your Honor. I would like to call to the stand Ms. Vicaria Botheringford.

[Ms. Vicaria Botheringford takes the stand.]

CA: Please state your name and occupation, if you would be so kind.

VB: Vicaria Botheringford. I'm a cashier at the Bank of Ingletopia, the Clampwych branch, on Hartnett Street.

CA: Indeed. And how long have you had this job?

VB: A year and a half, about. I don't remember the exact day I started.

CA: That's fine. Tell me, have you seen this gentleman before? [pointing to Harrican Syldanade]

VB: Yes, that's Mr. Syldanade. He brings his change in quite often.

CA: Does he now.

VB: Yes, in a big specimen jar.

CA: In your experience, Ms. Botheringford, have the contents of this specimen jar ever caused one of the bank's change machines to, shall we say, fail spectacularly?

VB: You could say that, yes.

CA: In what way? Explode? Implode? Liquefy? Catch on fire? Crumble into dust? Vanish in a puff of black smoke? Or simply refuse to continue normal functioning?

VB: Um, yes, all of those, and this one time it just fell over and snakes came out, and we had to get a man to come hit them with a sword. I would have done it myself, but they were breathing fire, and I wear a lot of flammable clothes.

CA: How very interesting. And how many times during the past year and a half would you say that Mr. Syldanade has broken a change machine?

VB: I only really know about my shift, but... perhaps three dozen times? Certainly not less than twenty. Mr. Burrow would know for sure.

CA: Please tell the court what happened the last time Mr. Syldanade brought his change into the bank.

VB: Well, he brought it in as usual and I carried it back to pour into the machine. I was very hopeful about it because it seemed to be all Terran quarter-marks and miskvae this time, and I couldn't see any jellyfish, so I made my wish, and poured it into the machine, which, um, blew up. So this was one of the explosion kind you mentioned.

CA: I see. Was it Mr. Syldanade's change that precipitated this explosion?

VB: Not the change so much exactly, no, just that it was all covered in jam and gunpowder. The change itself was probably fine, I think, for once.

CA: Did you sustain any injuries in the blast?

VB: No, the bank hires us specifically for our quick reflexes. I did lose both eyebrows though.

CA: Indeed? The replacements look very natural. Thank you, Ms. Botheringford. That is all.

JB: Mr. Syldanade, you are acting as your own defense, correct? Would you care to cross-examine?

HS: Well, hmm, ordinarily I'd ask the girl if she was working hard or hardly working -- little joke of mine, you know -- but that wouldn't make much sense in this context. So, no, thanks, I'm fine.

JB: Very well, Mr. Syldanade. Mr. Allen, you may solicit your next testimonial.

[Ms. Botheringford descends. Mr. Syldanade waves to her jovially, to which she responds with a nervous half-wave before sprinting out of the courtroom.]

CA: Thank you, Your Honor. I would now like to call Mr. Watlington Burrow, president of the Bank of Ingletopia, to the stand.

[Mr. Watlington Burrow takes the stand.]

CA: Mr. Burrow, would you say that the gradual transformation of your once open, pleasant countenance into a terrible grinning rictus of agony and festering hatred has at all degraded your quality of life?

WB: Ha! Ha ha. Ha ha ha? Ha, ha ha ha, HA HA HAHAHAHAaaaaaa.

CA: Yes or no, please, Mr. Burrow.

WB: Oh! Yes. Yes, I would say so.

CA: And in your estimation, what was the cause of this transformation?

[Mr. Burrow's response exceeded decibel limits and has been stricken from the record.]

CA: Thank you, Mr. Burrow. Now, just in case your response was stricken from the record for exceeding decibel limits, which I very much fear it might have been, it was Harrican Syldanade that you named as the cause of your misfortune, correct?

WB: That. That is correct. Ha ha! Ha ha ha, haaaaaa.

CA: Thank you very much, Mr. Burrow. No further questions.

JB: I would invite you to cross-examine, Mr. Syldanade, had Mr. Burrow's doctor not just handed me a note. Mr. Burrow, you may step down. Gently now. Thank you. That's lovely. Mr. Allen?

[Mr. Burrow descends the stand and is quickly wrapped in blankets and led off by unknown soothing-seeming persons.]

CA: For my third and final testimony, Your Honor, I would like to call Harrican Syldanade to the stand.

HS: Oh good! I always enjoy this part.

[Mr. Harrican Syldanade takes the stand, jauntily. A few of the crowd applaud momentarily before stopping with confused looks on their faces.]

CA: Mr. Syldanade. Misssster Sylllldanade. I was wondering if perhaps you could tell the court what this... thing... is intended to be? [holding a floppy green item aloft with somewhat of a show of disgust]

HS: Oh, that? Cheque I cashed a while back. Did one of those anti-tribe johnnies a solid. Big Heavy Rock tribe, I think it was. Nice enough chap. Was extremely grateful.

CA: You say this is a cheque.

HS: Yes. Rather clearly, too, I thought. I've been improving my diction.

CA: Is it your experience, then, that a cheque is often written in goat's blood--

HS: Aurochs' blood.

CA: --aurochs' blood on a palm frond?

HS: Short on inkwells in the bush, my good fellow. Paper, too. Fortunately we were very near a herd of aurochs, and my crossbow doubled as a fountain pen.

CA: I see. How did this gentleman come to write this alleged cheque, which, if I may mention once more, certainly not wishing to hammer the point into the ground, is written on what is just barely cohesive enough to be considered a single piece of foliage using the vital fluid of a deceased quadriped?

HS: Oh, these aurochs have seven legs. Huge fangs, too. Guess you've never been to the Khest delta, which is most intelligent of you. Cannot fault you whatsoever. Anyway, as I said, I did the chap a solid, and he was most grateful. Was going to give me the concubines right then and there, but I said "Hold off a tick, old thing, I've simply no room for thirty concubines. But I do have the most marvellous bank back on Terra, so you can just write me a cheque and they'll sort it out when I get back."

CA: Let me get this straight, Mr. Syldanade. You honestly expected a Terran bank to be able to cash a cheque for thirty concubines from some tribesman who lives in a jungle just this side of the Outer Rim? How many concubines do you imagine the bank keeps on hand for occasions such as these?

HS: Oh, I didn't want it in concubines. Lord knows I ha-- er, I mean, whatever would Martha say? No, I wanted it in good old Galactic miskva. So much easier to satiate.

CA: You imagined the Bank of Ingletopia would be able to convert concubines into miskva? Are you accusing them of slave trading?

HS: No, no, dear boy. Great Harold's Liver, you're excitable. I assumed they'd use that wonderful machine in the back that converts all your currency into the psychological ideal form of money and spits it out the other end in whatever denomination you require.

CA: The change machine?

HS: Yes, that's the North Ombrian venomous lapinate. Right on the prosthesis. Good show.

CA: That is not even remotely what a change machine does.

HS: Oh? You don't say. Well, well. No wonder.

CA: Right. No further questions, Mr. Syldanade. No closing remarks, Your Honor. My work, I believe, is done here.

JB: Thank you, Mr. Allen. All right, Mr. Syldanade, as the defense attorney, you may now solicit your first testimonial.

HS: Oh, I believe the excitable chap with the sparkly appendages said it all, really. Can't think of anything to add.

JB: You do not wish to speak in your own defense, Mr. Syldanade? After testimony like that? Are you sure?

HS: Yes, Your Honor, absolutely.

JB: [shaking head] All right, then, Mr. Syldanade. In that case, I'm afraid I have no choice but to find you...

[A dramatic pause falls over the courtroom.]

JB: ...not guilty of the charge of inducing mental anguish. Court dismissed.

[Gasps and tittles run through the audience, interrupted by--]

CA: Hold it!

JB: Yes, Mr. Allen? Weren't you off to lunch?

CA: Lunch can wait, Your Honor. With your kind permission, or indeed without it, I'm invoking Galactic Overlaw #503-X.

[The gasps and tittles resume even more intensely than before. A passing mental patient enters the courtroom mumbling "peas and carrots, peas and carrots" and is quickly subdued by Mr. Burrow's handlers.]

JB: Good heavens, Mr. Allen, are you claiming a paradox has been committed in this courtroom?

CA: I am, Your Honor. Am I correct in remembering that ferrotape recordings are admissable evidence in a Terran court of law?

JB: Yes, of course.

CA: Then I would like you to listen to this, please. [pulling a device from his pocket]

FERROTAPE RECORDING: You do not wish to speak in your own defense, Mr. Syldanade?

CA: That is your own voice on the tape, Your Honor, correct?

JB: Oh heavens no. My voice is far manlier and lacks that idiotic nasal wheeze.

CA: All right. Everyone else in the courtroom, is this His Honor's voice on the tape?

EVERYONE ELSE IN THE COURTROOM: Yes.

JB: Oh. Damn. Well, proceed, I guess.

FERROTAPE RECORDING: ''All right then, Mr. Syldanade. In that case, I'm afraid I'll have to find you...''

[An even more dramatic pause falls over the real courtroom while a pause of about equal dramaticity falls over the recorded one.]

FERROTAPE RECORDING: ''...guilty of the charge of inducing mental anguish, and probably several other charges as well, if you will give me a moment to go through my notes. Mr. Syldanade, I intend to throw the book at you so hard that all the words come off the pages, and then I am going to make you clean them up with your tongue.''

JB: My goodness, did I say that? What a good line. I'm going to write that one down and say it in real life sometime.

CA: Ah, but you did say it in real life, Your Honor.

JB: What are you driving at, Mr. Allen? Please explain to us all why we are still here instead of off in a quiet pub somewhere eating biscuits.

CA: Very well. Your Honor. Esteemed observers. I have a confession to make, a confession which will probably end my career. I don't mind. Lawyering's begun to pall in any case. I hope you all will forgive me when I say that I... am not from the future.

[Plenty of gasp this time, if not quite as much tittle.]

JB: What? Of course you are! Aren't you? What about your sparkly antennae?

CA: An old boyfriend won them for me at clown toss. It's only a headband. See? They come right off. [demonstrating]

[Moans of despair, mostly female, punctuated by fainting and cries of "Oh, Chank, no!" etc.]

CA: Anyway, my point is that I am not from the future. I am a time-scummer, plain, simple, and yes, I know, despicable. After I accepted a case, you see, I would jump forward to the verdict, and if I lost, I went back in time and stopped myself accepting it. Being of a cautious disposition, I ferrocorded everything, just in case. So when I tell you that Harrican Syldanade was, in this timeline, going to be found guilty -- was found guilty, in my past's future -- know that I am telling the absolute truth. A paradox has been committed here in this courtroom. Your Honor, I believe that Harrican Syldanade is in possession of a desirable-outcome device, and I request that a full temporal audit be performed at once.

[Both gasp and tittle reach a crescendo. Judge Beavers bangs his gavel.]

JB: Order! Order! Mr. Allen, these are serious charges indeed. Still, I appreciate your honesty, and I do not doubt the veracity of your evidence. Therefore, I have no option but to--

[The door closes loudly as a young woman enters the courtroom.]

CA: By every star in the Vernal Cluster, who is this ravishing beauty?

YOUNG WOMAN: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt everyone.

JB: Good heavens, Adelaide? Is that you?

YW: Oh! Papa! Papa, we thought you were dead!

JB: Adelaide! I tried so hard to find you and your mother after the war, but I... you...

YW: We'd gone into hiding, Papa! We didn't know... we thought... there didn't seem to be a reason to come back. Oh, if we'd known! If we'd only known!

JB: I suppose your mother has... remarried?

YW: Never, Papa! She never stopped loving you. She never wanted anyone else but you. After you left, she dedicated herself solely to becoming Terra's finest and most prolific pastry chef, although she's barely put on weight at all, except in her breasts, which are now three sizes larger!

JB: [sobbing] Oh, Adelaide!

YW: [also sobbing] Oh, Papa!

JB: Oh, Ade-- oh, that's right, we're still in court. What were we doing again? Ah, my notes say that we've just declared Harrican Syldanade not guilty of everything and we're going to give him a medal and go to lunch.

CA: I, Chank Allen, Romantic Poet From the Future, cannot argue with that in any capacity!

YW: Oh... hello! My, you're shiny.

CA: I certainly am. Would you care to join me for lunch?

JB: I'll come too. Someone give Mr. Syldanade a nice medal. Court di-- oh, Adelaide, what did you come in here for, in the first place?

YW: Oh no, I completely forgot! There's been a terrible four-way pastry cart accident just outside and the streets are being menaced by delicious éclairs!

ENTIRE COURTROOM: Hooray! [rushing out en masse]

ADORABLE URCHIN: May Ardok bess us, evvy one.

--END TRANSCRIPTION--

Aftermath
Judge Beavers reunited with his wife, and the two of them renewed their wedding vows in a ceremony they shared with their daughter and her new husband, Chank Allen, whose career as a romantic poet quickly skyrocketed. By 1731, he was once again the darling of the galaxy, in a different capacity. No one ever mentioned his time-scumming past.

Harrican Syldanade never received a temporal audit. He did, however, receive a nice medal, in the form of a Terran sixteenth-mark with a ribbon strung through it. This token of honor was created and presented by the Chief Steward, whose delicate gastric condition forbade him from clearing the streets of pastry. Seventeen days after the trial, Harrican Syldanade put the finishing touches on his new invention, a machine that converted all currency into the psychological ideal form of money and spit it out the other end in whatever denomination you required, and presented it to the Bank of Ingletopia as a gift. Over time, he and Watlington Burrow got over Syldanade's misunderstandings and became close friends. Ultimately, Burrow even relearned how to smile, although he never did stop twitching.

The Adorable Urchin was tragically eaten by potato cod during a trip to the seashore, thus proving some sort of ineffable cosmic point.

Implications
As I mentioned earlier, I have consulted with experts, who are all of the opinion that if this transcript is a hoax, it is a damn good hoax. Nevertheless, the possibility remains. We simply cannot say for sure that Harrican Syldanade was in possession of a desirable-outcome device, even if this document makes it appear ridiculously likely that he was. Nor is it strictly necessary for the person, if there was such a person, operating said device, if there was such a device, to have been Syldanade himself, not someone acting on his behalf. Nor can we rule out the theory that Syldanade was using or being used by something beyond our understanding, something that shares visible symptoms with a desirable-outcome device. It is even possible, always possible, for everything to have been a coincidence.

Also, we cannot escape the fact that many details of Syldanade's life become inexplicable if we imagine him to have been in possession of such a device. Why would he have suffered so many people to die? Why would he have allowed so many planets to be destroyed? Why, indeed, would he have allowed a great deal of money -- the bulk of his fortune at the time -- to pass into the hands of the Robotic Anti-Disassembly League? Clearly, this theory is insufficient to encompass all the evidence.

Still. It's interesting, isn't it?