How dare you

With Aaron’s new-found knowledge he intended to make the most of it. But wait a second … if she knew that she’d win the presidency, then she wouldn’t work for it. And she needed to work for it … in order for it to happen. No, Aaron had to remain silent about what he’d seen.

But it didn’t matter right now, because Aaron was sitting in a metal chair in from of a metal table in a metal-walled room with a metal-door and no windows. His hands were locked behind the chair in metal handcuffs.

The consortium was really unhappy with what he’d done. And then the wall in front of him slid off to the side. There they were. Three judges in black jeans and black t-shirts and black boots.

“Mr. Aardvark,” said the man in the middle, a bald man with smooth, taut skin but with a salt-and-pepper goatee atop a muscular frame, “we are quite unhappy with you. How dare you disobey us.”

“You’ve violated Plenary Rule No. 3385,” the wrinkled woman with long gray hair and a narrow, long nose said. “Future time travel is expressly forbidden.”

“This hearing is convened,” said the third judge. He had soft eyes, white hair, and wore black-framed glasses. A big red nose. It was the late Spencer Tracy, brought back to life. “Order in the court for Case No. 47.”

“Forty-seven?” Aaron said.

“Quiet, Mr. Aardvark. It is rare that a client violates a rule. Yes, you are only our forty-seventh case,” Spencer Tracy said. “The charges have been laid before you. What is your plea?”

“No contest,” Aaron said.

The woman spoke up. “Do you have an explanation before we pass sentence?”

“This was a lapse in judgment. I intended traveling to a political rally in 1935 for Senator Huey Long of Louisiana. My time machine, as you well know from my documented repots, errs frequently and placed me at a rally for Donald Trump in 2015.”

“Horrors!” said the bald muscle-man. Aaron made a note to get his phone number.

“You poor, unfortunate soul,” the woman judge said, “to be subjected to that vitriol.”

“What did you do next?” Mr. Tracy said.

“When the mob started attacking a woman of Muslim faith, I ran for safety, fearing I’d be next. When I got to the time machine, I must’ve been in a state, because all I thought was, Hillary has to win, Hillary has to win. And then it occurred to me, I could find out, I could find out. So that’s when I dialed the chronometer all the way to the right. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

The three judges looked at each other and conferred with hands on their microphones. After a minute, they looked up.

“Mr. Aardvark,” Mr. Tracy said. “Would you stand, please.”

Aaron stood.

“It is the judgment of this court that you violated Plenary Rule No. 3385. However, given the extreme circumstances of the mortal danger in which you found yourself at the Trump rally, we’re taking possession of your time machine for six months and grounding you during that time.”

Aaron breathed out and felt his insides begin to relax.

“No human being,” Mr. Tracy said, “should be subjected to one of those political rallies.”