Milo Jackerby (Working Title)

Hello, this is Daisy, currently I'm working on a long story/novel thing and I wanted to test out the opening on you. And when I say opening I mean the first page and a half. I'll post the next few bits every week so you guys can, hopefully, give me any thoughts (hopefully good ones) but be brutally honest with me, ok? Anyway, this is it. It's working title is called Milo Jackerby. It won't make much sense in this bit.

17^th December, 2050

The court room was quiet; the jury were due to enter at any minute. The man accused of murdering his pregnant wife, his elderly neighbour and the neighbour’s grandchild, the man running to be the United States president, sat with his head in his hands. Like he almost knew what the verdict would be. He didn’t do it, that was his story, what he said from the beginning, he was out of town, seeing his psychiatrist, as it happens, running to become president can cause stress, and when he returned he found his wife in a pool of scarlet. He was in mourning and he was being accused of murder which, since 2045, means the death penalty.

            The jury entered, a few were red faced from yelling or crying, some with their eyes closed, others seemed to be in a trance, like they knew they had made this decision. Of course, he was guilty. The man hardly reacted; he only shut his eyes, before being half taken half dragged, out of the courthouse. A few officials watching sighed in relief, a few even clapped and smiled. Worst of all was the man’s parents in law. They were so happy they were going to be grandparents but now their daughter, and their only hope of a grandchild was taken from them, by this man. This beast. The Mother burst into uncontrollable sobs of joy and the Father put his arm around her, whispering it was what she would have wanted. Their daughter would have wanted her murderer to die. Unfortunately, the man that left that courthouse and was later killed with a lethal injection, did not kill his wife and child.

            “How did you get it?” the young man asked, pacing about the poorly carpeted college dormitory, the girl, Indigo, sat at her desk and uploaded the audio recording from the jury’s room,

            “I planted a bug,” she said, “Duh,” the screen lit up, stating her upload was now complete,

            “Then why did they let him… Whoa,” emotions hit the him, Spike, harder than ever before, “Why did they let him die?”

            “Dunno,” Indigo answered before sending the audio straight to her website and uploading documents stating what the jury must do, “Couldn’t be his policies,”

            “I was going to vote for him,” Spike then said, his head in his hands, he looked up when the computer beeped happily as the audio had completed yet another download, “What are you doing?”

            “People need to know about this,” Indigo replied, fiddling with her mood necklace,

            “Government officials, not the people who are subscribed to your website!” Spike yelled,

            “Shut up,” she just said, turning in her chair to face him, her painted purple lips sneering slightly, “Who else do you think I’ll send it to?” she turned in her chair again before typing quickly and bringing up her e-mail account. Spike looked at the address.

            “No way,” he grinned slightly, half shocked by what she was planning to do,

            “Should I?” she bit her lip nervously, hovering her index finger over the enter key,

            “We’ll need to run,” Spike then said, grabbing his jacket, wallet and teleporting device,

            “I’ve run before,” Indigo said, pulling open the desk draw and grabbing her teleporting device, her insulin tablets and her Father’s debit card, “Pass me my coat,” Spike threw over a thick, long, leather coat and watched her clip it shut and put her belongings in the inside pockets,

            “Ready?” he asked, grinning, holding out his sweaty palm, Indigo laughed loudly as she hammered her finger onto the enter key.

            The room was empty when the screen flashed:

            Sent to all accounts. Complete.