"Henry Kuttner - Private Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

desperately.

And the curious upshot of this imbalance came when the act of
homicide was declared nonpunishable, unless intent and fore-thought could
be proved. Of course, it was considered at least naughty to fly in a rage and
murder someone on impulse, and there was a nominal
punishmentтАФimprisonment, for exampleтАФ but in practice this never
worked, because so many defenses were possible. Temporary insanity.
Undue provocation. Self-defense. Manslaughter, second-degree homicide,
third degree, fourth degreeтАФit went on like that. It was up to the State to
prove that the killer had planned his killing in advance; only then would a jury
convict. And the jury, of course, had to waive immunity and take a scop test,
to prove the box hadnтАЩt been packed. But no defendant ever waived
immunity.

A manтАЩs home wasnтАЩt his castleтАФnot with the Eye able to enter it at
will and scan his past. The device couldnтАЩt interpret, and it couldnтАЩt read his
mind; it could only see and listen. Consequently the sole remaining fortress
of privacy was de-fended to the last ditch. No truth-serum, no
hypnoanalysis, no third-degree, no leading questions.

If, by viewing the prisonerтАЩs past actions, the prosecution could prove
forethought and intent, O.K.

Otherwise, Sam Clay would go scot-free. Superficially, it appeared as
though Andrew Vanderman had, during a quarrel, struck Clay across the
face with a stingaree whip. Anyone who has been stung by a Portuguese
man-of-war can understand that, at this point, Clay could plead temporary
insanity and self-defense, as well as undue provocation and possible
justification.

Only the curious cult of the Alaskan Flagellantes, who make the
stingaree whips for their ceremonials, know how to endure the pain. The
Flagellantes even like it, the pre-ritual drug they swallow transmutes pain
into pleasure. Not having swallowed this drug, Sam Clay very naturally took
steps to protect himselfтАФ irrational steps, perhaps, but quite logical and
defensible ones.

Nobody but Clay knew that he had intended to kill Vanderman all
along. That was the trouble. Clay couldnтАЩt understand why he felt so let
down.

The screen flickered. It went dark. The engineer chuckled.

тАЬMy, my. Locked up in a dark closet at the age of four. What one of
those old-time psychiatrists would have made of that. Or do I mean
obimen? Shamans? I forget. They interpreted dreams, anyway.тАЭ

тАЬYouтАЩre confused. ItтАФтАЭ