Brave New Worlds

the exception of presidential historic sites, they've all been transferred to private ownership. "
    Peter was furious, but he bit down on the profane comment he'd been about to make. "Speaking of ownership," Melinda said, "I believe these are yours. "She reached out with his wallet and a small Ziploc baggie with what was left of the last quarter-ounce Peter had bought before he fell into a glacier.
    An instinct to caution prickled the back of his neck. "thanks," he said, and took only the wallet.
    "Please, Mr. Skilling," Melinda said. "Blood tests clearly indicated the presence of marijuana in your body, and this bag was found in your right front pocket. It's a little too late to deny things. "
    Peter shrugged and took the weed. He walked back toward the hospital door and threw it into a trash can. "I doubt it's any good after ninety-eight years anyway. "
    "I wouldn't know," Melinda said. "Are you angry about something, Mr. Skilling?"
    "My goodness, of course he's angry," Burkhardt piped up. " A perfectly rational response to his situation, in fact a clear indication that he is coping in a sane and intelligent manner. I note that you grew angry when you saw the mountains, Peter. Is that because of our conservation practices?"
    "Is that what you call it? Looks like a clear-cut to me. "
    "That's not a current term. ‘Maximal extractive intensity and utilization' is the standard practice at this time. I believe ‘clear-cut' is jargon from the environmentalists of your time, am I correct?"
    Peter pointed up at the mountains. "No, ‘clear-cut' is an accurate description of what's happened up there," he said.
    "So would you consider yourself an environmentalist?" Burkhardt asked.
    "Yeah, I would. Especially compared to whoever authorized that. "
    "Whoa there," the orderly said. "All conservation decisions come straight from the top. Show a little respect. "
    "Were you a member of the Green Party of the United States?" Melinda asked.
    "What?"
    "It's a simple question, Mr. Skilling. We need to know as much as possible about you to make correct decisions. "
    "Fine. Yes, I was a Green. Still am, if there's still a party. "
    "There isn't," Melinda said. She turned to the orderly. "Vince, do you need anything else?"
    "We need to get the drug offense squared away," Vince said. "Mr. Skilling, who did you purchase the marijuana from?"
    Peter just gaped at him. "the guy I bought from has probably been dead for sixty years, Vince. "
    "You may address me as Col. Trecker. Answer the question. "
    Peter hesitated. He didn't want to rat on anyone, but you couldn't do much harm to a dead guy. Except me, he thought, and if they're going to make a big deal out of this I better cooperate. Especially if they've had this colonel pretending he was an orderly. "His name was Phil Kokoszka. Happy?"
    Col. Trecker whipped out a PDA and tapped at it. "Philip J. Kokoszka of Redmond?"
    "Yeah, he lived in Redmond. " Peter had just been there last week, or ninety-eight years ago by the world's reckoning.
    "Was he a Green too?"
    "Yeah. I knew him through local meetings. Come on, what's the point? He's dead. So was I. Jesus. "
    The curse brought a moment of icy silence.
    "Are we all set here?" Melinda asked.
    Trecker put away the PDA. "Looks that way. Take him back inside. "
    "Wait a minute," Peter said. "I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what the world looks like now. "
    "The brave new world?" Col. Trecker responded. "Maybe some other time. Right now there's business to take care of. "
    Burkhardt stepped closer to Peter. "Time to go in, Peter," it said. "You really are doing marvelously well. Don't let your initial emotional responses cloud your judgment. "
    When they entered the hospital, one of the MPs at the door fell into step, his rifle slung at his hip and pointed in Peter's direction. They didn't go back to the elevator; instead Melinda and Col. Trecker let the party down a curving hall to an open door. They went in, and Peter got a cold chill as he recognized the setup: a desk at the far wall, set on a low dais; two tables facing it; a few chairs arranged in one corner. A courtroom. Burkhardt sat Peter at one of the tables and remained standing behind him. Col. Trecker went to the desk. Melinda sat at the other table.
    "You've got to be kidding," Peter said. "the Army is prosecuting me for holding a quarter-ounce of weed a hundred years ago?"
    "That's certainly a rosy way of putting it," Burkhardt said. "I'm deeply sorry that the situation