The Stingray Shuffle полностью

The prosecutor picked up a copy of the police report. “When officers arrived, the suspect was applying paint in the dining compartment of an antique passenger car. When said officers attempted to effect arrest, the suspect dove from the car and ran across the museum, where he proceeded to climb into a nearby locomotive engine, refused to come down, and began singing, and I quote: ‘Riding that train. High on cocaine…’”

The judge ran his fingers through his hair and turned to the public defender. “Is your client on drugs?”

“That’s just the problem, Your Honor. He refuses to take his drugs.”

“That locomotive was number one fifty-three, Florida East Coast Railway,” said Serge, “which pulled a rescue train out of the Keys during the Labor Day hurricane of 1935…”

The judge held up a hand for Serge to stop and turned to the public defender. “So what’s with all the trains, anyway?”

Serge kept talking in the background: “…and that railroad car I was painting was the famous Ferdinand Magellan, built in 1928 and later retrofitted with armor plating and bulletproof glass for none other than the president of the United States!…”

“Your Honor, Mr. Storms, like so many other unfortunate Americans, is battling severe mental illness. He’s going through a phase right now.”

“A phase?”

“…You see,” said Serge, “this was in the days before Air Force One, when the president had to travel by rail. The Magellan was first used by Franklin Roosevelt in 1942. And it was on the rear platform of this very car that, on November 3, 1948, a grinning Harry Truman held up the Dewey Defeats Truman newspaper in the now-famous photograph…”

“Your Honor, he gets on these compulsive tangents,” said the public defender. “He has to find out every single thing there is to know about a subject, talk to as many experts as he can, see and touch everything…”

“I object!” said Serge, jumping to his feet. “He’s making it sound weird.”

“Weirdness isn’t grounds for an objection,” said the judge. “And that’s your own attorney.”

“Then I respectfully withdraw.” Serge sat back down and turned to the public defender. “Proceed.”

“Your Honor, why is this man even being allowed to speak?” complained the prosecutor. “He’s not even representing himself anymore, and he’s completely out of line. As a matter of fact, we’re not following any of the procedures at all!”

“First thing — relax,” said the judge. “This is a minor case. Second, this is my court, and third, I kinda like the guy. Is that okay with you?”

The prosecutor sat down and sulked. The judge turned back to the public defender. “Continue.”

“He’ll go days without sleep, covering incredible distances on foot, and he only stops when he passes out from sheer exhaustion.”

“Interesting,” said the judge. “And right now it’s railroads?”

“Railroads.”

Serge raised his hand.

“You’re not in school,” said the judge.

“May I?” asked Serge.

The judge leaned back in his chair and got comfortable again. “Go ahead.”

The prosecutor snapped a pencil in two and threw the pieces on his table.

“You see, the railroads made Florida,” said Serge. “They played a major role in most states, but not like here, where their influence was an iron fist, the train companies owning much of the land and businesses along their routes. I’m not saying it was wrong or right; I’m just saying it worked. Completely opened up the peninsula.”

“What about air-conditioning?” asked the judge. “I understand that when Mr. Carrier went into mass production, it jump-started all kinds of development.”

“Your Honor,” interjected the public defender, “Mr. Storms had, uh, a number of arrests last year dealing with the air-conditioning and refrigeration industry. I don’t think we want to go there.”

“Understood,” said the judge. “Continue, Mr. Storms.”