"Have you ever done a mind map or real scan? This is very attractive."
"No. No one has ever done it," Mars looked at the machine. "I have no idea-"
"Come on, jump in," he pointed to the reclining seat in the middle of the machine. "I only ask a few simple questions, so you know how it works. This would be a better article, what do you think?"
Mars put down his notebook and bag reluctantly. He sat down on Ruola's gray plastic chair and leaned against the back of the chair. Bruce put a strap on his head, put a few DúLì electrode devices on his temples, and put earphones on his ears.
"Will it hurt?"
"No, not at all," Bruce said. He turned on some switches, here and there, pressing buttons. Zola whirled and came alive.
"Ready?" Bruce asked.
"certainly."
"I want to ask questions into the microphone. You will hear the questions in your ears. In addition, the questions will be converted into electrical impulses and transmitted directly to your brain. You have to say your answers out loud. The machine. The answers you say will be recorded and the electronic thought pulses in your brain will be translated. These thought pulses will be machine-translated into language and images. Then we can compare the answers you speak with the answers provided by your brain."
"What's your name?"
Mars Matthias
"Where were you born?"
"Connecticut, New London"
"Now, I want to ask you a more complicated question. Tell the truth about this answer. Why did you not finish your college education?"
"I was kicked out."
"why?"
"A paper written with me for fighting."
"Next question, answer with lies. Why are you fighting?"
"Okay," Mars said. He paused for a while, and came up with a good lie. "I have a professor, a real bastard. For some reason, that guy doesn't like me, so I wrote this paper. If I really say that, it would be great. A+ works all the time. That's it. The guy gave me a D. After class I walked up to him and asked him what's wrong. Why is D? He told me he really should give me an F. He was just generous. He said it's good for me and my single mom It’s a good thing. She lives on relief funds and food stamps. She is penniless. So when I wash and find that university is not suitable for me, and find that I am back in the slum, my mother can comfort myself, at least for me. The paper did not fail. So I hit him. I punched him in the face. I broke the bastard’s nose and eye sockets. He fell like a tree. Bang. Knock it down, baby. Turn off the lights."
"It's interesting," Bruce said. Zola whirred, whirled. The printed paper began to chuckle. Bruce is typing on the keyboard. He didn't ask any more questions for a while.
Mars was lying reclining, not fully relaxed, his neck stiff, and one leg straddling the side of the chair. His feet lightly stepped on the floor. He waited, fastened his seat belt, and listened to the buzzing, whirring, beeping and buzzing of the machine.
"It's almost there, Mars," Bruce said into the microphone. "Poor Zola is an old lady, not as decent as the Norska people today. She enjoys the sweet time of the past."
"No problem," said Mars, "I'm curious what it says."
"Okay," Bruce said into the microphone. "We are over."
Bruce releases Mars from Zola. Mars is completely upright. He rubbed his head and temples, and the probe was there.
Bruce waited until the official report was printed before removing it from the printer. He sat on a rotating stool, reading the printed newspaper over and over.
"What's written on it?" Mars asked.
Bruce gave the first two thirds of the report to Mars. In the last few pages, he folded vertically and tucked it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
"The above said that although you had a heated conversation with the professor, your paper did not get d, and the situation is even worse. You may want to beat the professor, but you did not. When you left after talking to the professor, there were two The thugs got your bike, and when you confronted them, they leaped towards you. One of them took a baseball bat and beat you hard. In the melee, you controlled the bat. You hit a mob, you hit him hard, and he went into a coma. You were arrested. Witnesses did not confirm your statement. Instead, they said you provoked the conflict, and the two boys leaned on the bicycle rack. On, one of them accidentally knocked over your bike. You picked up the baseball bat from the grass. It was lying next to a boy’s backpack, and you knocked him out with it."
Mars shook his head painfully. "Is it all said?"
"That's true. Read it." Bruce lifted his chin and nodded to the pile of papers in Mars's hands.
"I was framed."
"I believe you," Bruce said.
Mars narrowed his eyes.
"I do. Even if I don't. This is your evidence. It will stand up in court."
Mars looked at the file in his hand. evidence. Proof that he is not a liar. evidence. He shook his head in disbelief. No one believes him. Even his mother. He remembered the look on her face, disappointed and ashamed. He could think that the dean didn't believe him, that guy was a privileged old idiot. He could think that those people deceived him; to them, he was nothing. He is just another thin, black child, a quota child. He came here to make this university look diverse and integrate cultural elements. The only thing he couldn't bear was that his mother didn't believe him. It hurts people. Always.
"Thank you," he said. He took the printed things, put them in a folder very carefully, and then stuffed the folder into his bag.
"Why do you think you were framed?" Bruce asked.
Mars did not look up.
"I wish I knew," he said.
"This seems to be arranged by the heart. It was planned long ago. Even three of the witnesses confirmed the other boys' claims. Who would take such a hard time to hurt you, Martian?"
Mars shrugged.
"Okay," Bruce stood up and said. "Do you have any questions for me? We can finish this interview during lunch. Are you hungry? I know I am. I had a lunch date with a reporter, but he was late."
Mars stood up. He felt very relaxed. He looked at Zola again, then followed Bruce out the door.
Mars Matias walked briskly, with a smile on his face and evidence in his pocket.
Good evening, all my enthusiastic Mars, I hope this podcast will find you on this beautiful summer night.
What? Did Mars just say something is beautiful
Yes, discerning audience friends, I did it.
This video will not be typical Mars Matthias style. patience.
Today, Mars feels sentimental.
Today, Mars feels ZìYóu.
Just this time, I put on my brave reporter hat. We are going to speak to Mars.
You will all be happy to know that the news has spread. My fearless news is becoming legendary material. Smart Mars, you played a big role. We work together to make the world a better and more responsible world. We did the right thing. Always.
The story I want to tell you started two weeks ago when I received a call from Bruce Deman’s personal secretary.
Bruce Denman? you say.
Yes. Bruce Danman, billionaire, founder and CEO of Danmanos Enterprises, philanthropist, person of the year, and father of modern criminal justice. and many more.
This person has not been interviewed for many years. To be precise, it is three years and eight months. Not only did he decide to sit down and talk with Mars, he also found me.
Yes, it is true.
I went to the interview with half a notebook full of questions.
I did my homework. Prepare for the tough and powerful questions we all look forward to. I interviewed Carl Weber and listened to him. How Bruce Denman defrauded him of billions of dollars. I feel sorry for him. Damn it. So close to billions of dollars but missed opportunities? This will be a hard life with your entire life.
This story is not about Carl Weber. This is what I want to say to that man, fuck mature. We have all experienced it. None of us get what we think we deserve or deserve. Too bad for you, billions. It sucks, but maybe you shouldn't quit at that time. It's time to become a man and accept your decision.
I considered writing this story from a humanitarian perspective. Driven by the brutal murder of a young wife, how can a man dig out his own work and establish a mechanism to revolutionize the criminal justice system? Remember the rìzi of DNA evidence? Hello, Dark Ages. How those things that changed the world were born out of tragedy. Remember dozens of men and a woman released from death row? Are other innocent imprisoned men and women released? Remember their tears and joy? Remember that the truly guilty finally paid the price for their crimes.
I heard it, I heard it. Not very primitive, Mars. Yes, I agree, but it is still compelling news.
After avoiding my first two premises, I decided to tell a very personal story. A story about Mars, a man on the street, an illustration.
Let's start from the beginning
A long time ago, a baby was born. The woman who gave birth to him asked the nurse to take him to the nursery so that she could take a nap. Her labor pains lasted for a long time, she was exhausted, she explained to the nurse who answered the phone.
She is tired.
She held the baby boy in her arms and kissed him on the forehead. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)