"And there is free will," affirmed the clerk drowsily, the swing almost stopped.
"I didn't go voluntarily."
The clerk opened his eyes wide. "Mmm. Also mmmmm."
"I—" The Governor was unable to say more.
The clerk stood up in the swing, reaching out his arms to the chains and began pumping with his feet. The swing cleared the pulpit, knocked over the candlestick, which bounced on the steel floor. He let go the chain, folded his arms. The swing subsided into gentle motion. The clerk jumped down and brought up a heavy lawbook from under the pulpit. He laid it open on the lectern, riffling through it. Several moths flew out from between the pages. "You plead not guilty?" he asked coldly.
"I don't understand."
"You plead non compos parentis, in loco ignoramus, ab squatulatis feasance, nolo comprendere?"
"That's nonsense," exclaimed the Governor.
"Certainly. Convicted in the thirty-third degree."