IC Contact

[cantwalkwithoutit]

You've reached the office of Mr. Gold. I cannot answer you at this moment. Please leave a detailed message, and I will return your call at my earliest convenience.

Comments

[voice]

[cigarbribery]

Hello, Mr. Gold? My name's Franklin Nelson, but most people just call me Foggy, I was referred to you by someone on the network when I asked after imPort law and how to establish myself here. I'm a lawyer back in New York, I just wanted to ask after your experience in getting a license to practice here.

Thanks. Yes, ma'am, I'll look into your claim in a moment—

[voice]

[cantwalkwithoutit]

Hello, Mr. Nelson. If you want all honesty, then or authorities have been purposefully vague about matters of law, at least where it regards our previous education and experience. I can tell you I did not go back to law school in this world. All I did was take the bar exam to obtain my license -- the next of which is in February.

I have no problem telling you that the reason I chose to do even this much, despite not caring a wit what this government thinks of my abilities, is because the imPort population needs better representation. They need people like them, dedicated to ensuring they get as fair a shake as they can in this place. Taking at least some step toward establishing yourself in this world, by its laws, is a step toward legitimacy and shows you're willing to play by the rules.

Don't trust them not to interfere with your work, otherwise.

[voice]

[cigarbribery]

[Oh. February.

Foggy sits down somewhere once he gets the message, a little shaken. He counts up the months in his head—six months, until he can get his license again. Six months until he can establish a firm again, without Matt around. Six months, staying here.

It takes him a moment to respond.]

That's good news. I was kinda worried I'd have to go through law school all over again, I'm glad I don't have to. [Six months is plenty of time to refresh his memory on torts and civics and criminal law.]

I've heard word that we tend to get better deals than the locals do, when it comes to jail time. [It doesn't seem fair, to Foggy, that even murder gets, what, two months and then some probation? That's barely a slap on the wrist. That's not justice.] Is there anything unfair, currently, in how the judicial system treats imPorts? Especially unsettled imPorts.

[A breath. It sounds almost like a short laugh, except for how tired it seems.]

I figured out that much, but thanks for the tip. Remind me to tell you about how easy it apparently is for nebulously evil organizations to infiltrate the government in my world, lately.

[voice]

[cantwalkwithoutit]

It does mean swearing in, something I put off for nearly a year out of principle. I wasn't going to test and see if they'd let me try, otherwise.

[ You can hear the frown in his voice when he pauses. ]

Sometimes. A major problem with the judicial system when it comes to imPorts is that consistency and precedent only seems to follow the most dangerous offenders. Enslave an entire community or kill multiple people and you'll get the same slap on the wrist.

But this is hardly the sort of thing to discuss over the phone.

You can find me in my shop in Heropa on most business days.

[voice]

[cigarbribery]

When is the next swear-in, anyway?

[A breath, the sound of a pencil scratching on a notebook, then:] Yeah, okay—can I make an appointment, then? I've got a fairly light workload on Thursday, I can swing by Heropa then.