"There's no law against—" Perry began indignantly.
"Don't tell me your troubles, young man," the judge interrupted. "That's what your lawyer's for." His gesture indicated the metal box. Perry held the voice tube dumbly. The bailiff leaned over his shoulder.
"You tell your side of the story in there," he whispered.
Marlboro was muttering rapidly and at great length into his "lawyer." Perry did likewise, relating all he could remember of the morning fiasco. When he finished, the machine whirred, whistled and harrumphed twice before spewing out several yards of perforated tape.
The plaintiff's counsel did the same, except the tape was longer.
"Now Mr. Bailiff," the judge said, "you may bring in the jury."
Perry was no longer surprised when the jury was rolled in. It was a large gray analog computor mounted on wheels. The judge stepped down from the bench and fed in the two conflicting tapes.
The jury digested the information noisily.
"It's an old model," the judge apologized, but just then a white card popped out on a small metal tray. The bailiff delivered it to the judge.
He studied the card. Perry's heart thumped painfully during the calculated period of suspense.