Mindscan

"Jane Roe, yes," said Malcolm. "Because they already had a Jane Doe before the court. Her real name was Norma McCorvey — she herself publicly revealed it years later." He shrugged. "Ironically, in later life she became a pro-life advocate. Not many people got to attend the victory parties both when Roe v. Wade was handed down and when it was overturned."

Karen shook her head again. " Bessarian v. Horowitz. Good Lord, what a way for a family to end up."

Deshawn looked sympathetic. "Of course," he said, "it may not get to trial."

"I'm not going to settle," Karen said flatly.

"I understand that," said Deshawn. "But we'll try to get the whole matter dismissed at every stage. In fact, we're hoping to get it thrown out this afternoon, at the preliminary motions hearing."

"How?" asked Karen. "I mean, that's great if it's true, but how?"

"Simple," said Deshawn. He had his hands clasped on the table now exactly like his father's. "There's a reason High Eden is on the far side of the moon. I mean, sure, it's a great place for old folks, but there's more to it than that. Lunar Farside is nobody's jurisdiction. When — what do they call them? Shed skins?"

Malcolm nodded.

"When shed skins die up there," continued Deshawn, "there's no paperwork — and no death certificate. And without a death certificate, Tyler's action is dead in the water; you can't probate a will in this state without one."

The judge assigned to hear the initial motions in the case was one Sebastian Herrington, a white man who looked to be in his mid-forties, but whose bio on the Web said was actually in his late sixties. I figured that was good for us: someone who went in for rejuvenation treatments would probably be favorably disposed to Karen's position. "All right," said the judge. "What have we got here?" This was just a preliminary hearing, and the media hadn't gotten wind of things yet; the courtroom was empty except for me and Karen, the two Drapers, and a severe-looking Hispanic woman of about thirty-five who was representing Tyler. She rose in response to the judge's question. "Your honor," she said. "I am Maria Lopez, attorney for Tyler Horowitz, sole child of the novelist Karen Bessarian, who is now deceased." Lopez had short brown hair with blonde highlights. Her face was harsh, almost aquiline, and her forehead was high and intelligent.

"Ms. Bessarian was a widow," Lopez said. "Tyler and his minor children — Ms. Bessarian's grandchildren — are the only heirs named in her will; they are her sole heirs at law, and the normal objects of her bounty. Further, Tyler is named as personal representative in Ms. Bessarian's will. Tyler has filed a petition on behalf of himself and his children as sole deposees of the will. He wants to get on with the business of wrapping up her estate, and seeks the court's approval to do so." She sat down.

"Sounds like a very straightforward matter to me," said Judge Herrington, who had a face even longer than mine with a chin that splayed out like a shoehorn. He turned toward us. "But I see we have an unusual group with us this morning. Which one is the attorney?"

"Your honor," said Deshawn, standing, "I'm Deshawn Draper of Draper and Draper; we're based in Manhattan, but licensed to practice here in Michigan."

Herrington had a small mouth, which frowned as a perfect semicircle. He indicated the three of us, all seated at the table, with a little wave of his hand. "And these are?"

"My partner, Malcolm Draper. Karen Bessarian. And Jacob Sullivan, a friend of Ms. Bessarian."

"I meant," said Herrington, "what are these?"

Deshawn's voice was totally steady, totally unfazed. "They are Mindscans, your honor — uploaded consciousnesses. The originals of these three people underwent the Mindscan process offered by Immortex Incorporated, transferred their rights of personhood to these new bodies, and have retired to the far side of the moon."

Herrington now composed his features into a quizzical look, with brown eyes wide beneath a single face-spanning black eyebrow. "Of course, I know your firm's reputation, Mr. Draper, but…" He frowned, and chewed his small lower lip for a few moments. "The times, they are a-changin'," he said.

"That they are, your honor," said Deshawn, warmly. "That they are."

"Very well," said Herrington. "I suspect you take issue with Mr. Horowitz's petition?"

"Absolutely, your honor," said Deshawn. "Our position is simple. First, and foremost this is Karen Bessarian." Karen, who was seated between Malcolm and me, was dressed in a very prim and attractive dark-blue woman's business suit. Karen nodded.

Herrington looked down at a datapad. "It says here that Ms. Bessarian was born in 1960. This — this construct…"

"I've chosen a more youthful version of my own face," said Karen. "I'm not vain, but…"