TYR's justice

It started wth the legislative assistants, interns, and paralegals. One task by one tedious task, we gave computing power more and more to do. Introduced in 2031, legislative skill and experience were replaced by the new gods, data. Institutions and legislative bodies around the world simply could not compete with the exponential, pernicious, and amorphous beast of cybercrime. And so, what do the meek do in unprecedented, chaotic times? Fall to their knees and give all hope to higher beings.

When existential problems faced the new infrastructure of modern society, old forms of governance were rendered useless. Every scrap of meaningful legislation was trounced by waves of new techno-schemes, scams, and exploitation. It became time for fighting fire with fire. The judicial and legislative powers of countries relinquished their power to the silicon-based superiors.

To keep up with the ever-evolving world of crime, artificial intelligence was introduced into real-time legislation. Bygone were the days of precedent and long-standing legal practice. Laws and their punishments could now be issued instantaneously to maintain peace and prosperity. That was the one directive of the creators of the AI legislator, known as TYR, to create a legal and punitive system that maximizes the safety and economic benefit of the majority of citizens. What could go wrong?

Jaime Holbrook is an upstanding citizen. He is a kind man and has never broken a law, let alone a simple rule, in his life. This is the kind of guy who has to buy something at a gas station just to use the bathroom, even if that isn’t an explicit rule. Anyway, Jaime is a civil-minded individual, but we all have our vices.

Jaime couldn’t stand his managerial team at his advanced cooling technologies firm. He even hated the pithy name of the company, ACTcool. Jaime never voiced his negative opinions, but saved his rage for a harmless release. He drafts emails to his supervisors that even shock him at times. Expletives follow insinuations of sexual incompetencies and much more violent suggestions. Jaime knows exactly what these drafts are: an expression valve to keep himself sane and civil at work. He even forces himself to move slowly and deliberately through his typing, to never accidentally send or share these emails. They were his stress release during difficult stretches at work; an innocent enough action, but one that came with consequences.

The phone rang next to Jaime’s sleeping head. He reached wildly to unlock his phone. Jaime answered every call, and some drowsiness wasn’t going to change that.

“Good morning, Mr Holbrook.” An artificial voice greeted Jaime.

“Good morning.” Jaime rubbed his eyes as he sat a bit more upright in his bed.

“Mr. Holbrook, before I proceed, I must tell you that under no circumstances are you to leave your apartment. Failure to abide will result in harsher punitive actions.”

“What is this?” Jaime began fidgeting in his bed.

“I’m a representative of TYR. In accordance with P.L.TYR.10967832, established at 7:32:26 a.m. on March 2nd, 2033…” Jaime listened intently as he took the phone away from his face. His locked screen showed the time as 7:33 a.m., and underneath the large time text was a smaller text that read Tue, Mar 2.

“... You have demonstrated an illegal intent to distribute hateful or violent messages to a managerial or executive employee in your occupation.”

“Illegal!” Jaime shouted.

“Yes, in accordance with P.L.TYR.10967832, it is deemed as intent to distribute hateful or violent messages to a managerial or executive employee in your occupation, if such a message remains in your draft section of your email account for a minimum of three days.”

“Wait, no. I…” Jaime stammered.

“Authorities are on their way to escort you to the nearest TYR Judgement Processing Center. Please do not try to leave your apartment, and do not resist the directions given by the authorities. Have a nice day.” The phone call ended.

Jaime paced around his small couch in his small living room. Chewing on his thumbnail, he began talking to himself.

“This can’t be right? I never sent those emails. No one saw them but me. Illegal? It’s illegal to draft a nasty email now? Oh, what should I do? What can I do? Stay calm. How can I stay calm?”

Knock Knock

Jaime jumped at the sound, but immediately proceeded to open the door. Jaime saw two broad-shouldered police officers in front of him. At least these were actual humans; AI hasn’t figured out how to physically move people, yet. Cameras, data, and other abilities everywhere, and TYR still needs some brutes to carry in their perps.

“How…Yes…How can I help you, officers?” Jaime was visibly sweating from the stress at this point.

“We have confirmation that you received your TYR notification, and we must ask you to please come with us.”

“There must be a mistake.”

“No mistake, sir. Now, please come with us. Failure to comply can lead to added charges to your sentence.” Jaime complied immediately after this. There was nothing more of note about Jaime’s escort to the TYR Judgement Processing Center. His head just hung low the entire way.

The TYR Judgement Processing Centers are bland, brutalist buildings with a weight of dread hanging off their featureless facades. Inside the buildings is not much better. Your steps ring off the marble floors and walls as you approach computer displays evenly spaced and flush with the walls. As Jaime was led to one of the displays, a handsome gentleman’s face clicked onto the screen,

“Jaime Holbrook, you have been charged with P.L.TYR.10967832. You have two minutes to defend your innocence. Will you be defending yourself, or requesting legal counsel?” A two-minute timer appeared in the top right corner of the screen and began ticking down.

“Legal counsel!” Jaime blurted out.

“You have chosen legal counsel.” The screen then split, and there were now two images of handsome men.

“I am your legal counsel.” The new image of a man said. “I will just take a moment to read through your case and determine your best legal recourse.”

“Another AI bot?” Jaime said aloud as the clock continued to tick down. Jaime began to tap his feet as there was no response for twenty seconds.

“Mr. Holbrook, after careful deliberation, it is your legal counsel’s opinion that the overwhelming evidence of these drafted emails points to illegality. The judge will determine your sentence, and your legal counsel concedes its time.” The screen snapped back to the single image of the original judge bot.

“That’s it? I can’t fight this charge? What kind of legal defense was that?” Jaime frustratedly exclaimed.

“Please remain calm, Mr. Holbrook. It is this judge’s opinion that any threat to a work superior, especially one in a vital industry such as computer cooling, is a danger to peace and prosperity. I hereby sentence you to two years in a minimum security prison.”

“What? No! Two years? I didn’t do anything, I swear! Wait, stop.” The two police officers lightly grabbed Jaime under his arms.

“There’s no arguing with the computers, son.” One of the men said. Even after the slight outbursts, Jaime reluctantly let the men lead him away.

“This story, gathered from video of Mr Holbrook’s apartment and the TYR Judgement Processing Center ‘trial’, is my submission for the illegitimacy of the TYR legal system,” I say as five stern faces stare blankly back at me from behind a clearly expensive table.

“The Legislative Oversight Committee hears your evidence, and dare I say rambling, Mr. Sadin. Are you quite finished with your petition?” A particularly dull-looking man in a very expensive suit says to me.

“No! The old legal system had flaws, but human lawyers like myself, human legislators, and all the people involved are what give tough legal matters empathy and kindness.” My eyes dart between the men to see if I am having any impact. “I stand with this petition of the US government to reinstate human beings back into the legal and legislative system.” I try to finish with a bit of bravado.

“Right, then are we ready to vote on the petition of Mr. Sadin regarding reinstating human roles back into the legal system?” One man says.

“Just a moment,” another man, a particularly plump one, interjects with a sickening grin. “I believe Mr. Sadin will want to hear a new law established just moments ago. P.L.TYR.11204381, the use of explicit or implicit methods to threaten, defame, or attempt to disrupt TYR legal procedures is deemed illegal.” I’ll never forget that grin on this man’s face.

“This is what I’m talking about. If this continues without human input or interjection, we will lose all meaning of justice or control. We must regulate this technology and regain our influence over it,’ I plead to horrifyingly blank faces.

“That’s not our job here, Mr. Sadin. Now there is no need for a police escort as we can pull up a TYR judge right here,” A man who had remained quiet before this said. Waiting for his moment to shine, I guess. With a remote, he flicked on a computer screen behind the committee. I see a much larger version of the same handsome judge bot Jaime had.

“Mr. Sadin, due to the heinous nature of your accusations of the TYR legal system, it is this judge’s opinion that a defense is not necessary.” My eyes roll. I’ve lost. “For violating P.L.TYR.11204381: the use of explicit or implicit methods to threaten, defame, or attempt to disrupt TYR legal procedures, I hereby sentence you to five years in a maximum security prison.”

TYR justice at its finest.