Walking through a vibrant downtown of a 1980s town, a little too vibrant, and a little too self-consciously 1980s, like a set of Stranger Things or Twin Peaks, so something feels off.. Walking past a fire-house fundraiser, and into a school or college, where there is a trial. Courtroom is a dark makeshift affair, with folding seats – it’s not a full time court. The accused is an Asian (Japanese or Korean) 1980s rock-star looking guy, and he really is a singer. He looks like a mix of Viktor Tsoi and my Tokyo-office coworker (who has a band). Most of the audience are students who don’t really want to be there, but are enticed by a raffle and a free course credit. With exception of a girl in docmartens who is awesome and is clearly interested in what’s going on. I sit in the front row, and feel like a total outsider. I cannot understand the proceedings, but they have something to do with his art. There is no defender – only a prosecutor. The charges are serious and carry heavy sentencing. 

I keep feeling that things are off, and there’s more to it that I can see, but I can’t understand what it is. I like that girl, a lot, but she is a lot younger than me (though I know that in reality she is older than me, a time traveler), and I think the entire affair is deeply unfair, the only fault of the accused is being beyond his time. I have a talk with the judge/professor later (he knows I don’t belong there and he asks of my opinion). I tell him that this doesn’t feel like a trial that belongs in this country. He tells me, with self-righteousness, that it, in fact, how American justice system has always operated, and I’m annoyed at him.

I am the one who wins the raffle’s grand prize that includes an anachronistic Visa gift card and a bunch of other unspecified valuable wrapped boxes that I never open. The students end up stealing my loot, but I am not upset because I know I should have never been there in the first place. I know they don’t want me there.