CHAPTER VIII.—SOUTH POLAR POLICE BUREAU.
Next morning my host told me that a gang of robbers had been arrested the evening before, and if I cared to do so we would go to the police court to witness the trial.
"Whose house did they break into?" I cried.
He looked at me in astonishment for a moment, and then, remembering how ignorant I was of the customs of Theon very courteously concealed his astonishment and explained to me:
"There is seldom any crime committed in this country. The great mistake nations in other parts of the world make is in waiting until a crime is committed before steps are taken to prevent it. You have a proverb about it in your language—'Locking the stable after the horse is stolen.'"
"But how can you prevent it?"
"Have you been so long with us and not learned that we are all mind readers?"
"But," I queried, still far at sea, "you have police patrolling the streets. I have seen them, and a fine looking body of men they are."
"Yes, of course. We have our police system, and it is very nearly perfect. But policemen here are to prevent crime, not to catch the criminal after it is committed."
"I am sure I do not follow you."
"It is very simple. As I said, we are all mind readers. Now, if we always knew what man was inclined to rob us we could read his mind and learn when. But take my case. I cannot spend my time reading the minds of every person in the city to see if my property is safe. So we have police to do it for us. They constantly patrol the streets, reading the minds of those they meet, and a report is made of each suspect when guard is relieved, which occurs about every three hours. Of course they do not mentally interrogate every one they meet on the street, that would be impossible; but in the course of a month, with the help of the reserve guard, which is stationed in the inner court, every person in the city passes under their scrutiny.
"But this attention is centered chiefly upon the 'suspects.' When a person falls under suspicion he is kept under constant surveillance. To make it plain to you: While we are sitting here, suppose I read in your mind that you had a desire to steal my watch. (I beg your pardon for even hinting at it in way of illustration.) I would report the fact to the chief of police, and an officer would be detailed to take you under his surveillance. Not one thought of yours could be concealed from him, and if you determined upon the theft, you most likely would be arrested before you could commit the crime."
"But what would you do with me? I would have done nothing that a court could sentence me for!"
"You would not be punished. We seldom are called upon to do that, and when we are, the ceremony is made a very solemn one, indeed."
"But you have judges and courts equal to any I have ever seen in America."
"Yes, but not for the same purpose. Let us follow the illustration of yourself. When you were arrested you would be taken into the court and your record produced by the policeman who had been watching you. From this the judge would decide, not as to your guilt, but as to how far inclined towards crime your intellect had become, and would sentence you accordingly."
"Still I do not see how that would not be punishing me for something I had not done."
"Not at all, I assure you. If you were shown to be not really bad, you would be committed to reformatory No. I, as it is called. You would not be imprisoned. On the contrary, you would at once be set at liberty and no restrictions whatever placed upon you. But you would be under the tutelage of the reserve judges of the inner court. They are chosen from the purest men and most powerful minds in the country. In other words, they are the clergy of the land. To them your case would be made known and your record given. Each one would take you under his supervision for an hour a day and would, during that hour, direct the whole power of his mind upon yours to drive from it every evil thought. There would not be a moment of the day when their minds were not working upon yours. It is very seldom that this course does not succeed in reclaiming the suspect."
"But if it should not?"
"This is seldom the case. But when it does fail, if the man grows worse, he is committed to the mental hospital and there given a course of treatment."
"I am curious to hear more."
"He is committed to the hospital for a certain length of time which the judge determines upon, according to the violence of his disease. But he is not punished. On the contrary, his surroundings are the most pleasant. He has pure companions, and is treated according to his disease."
"His disease? May I ask what you mean?"
"Suppose his disease is drunkenness. The disgrace of it is placed before him by one physician for an hour. Then succeeds another who impresses upon his mind the respectability of sobriety. Other physicians give him general moral tone."
"O, you mean he must spend his time listening to lectures. I shouldn't think that would be a very good way of reforming a criminal."
"No, no. Lectures would be the last thing we would think of. The patient knows nothing of his treatment except that it is going on. He seldom, if ever, sees his physicians. They, as the judges in the first case, work upon his mind entirely and try to drive out the evil and fill it with good thoughts."
"And do they always succeed?"
"If a man sets his will against them he can combat the wills of his physicians and receive no benefit from their treatment—if his will is stronger than theirs. We have had a few such instances."
"And then?"
"They redouble the corps of physicians."
"You spoke of his pleasant surroundings."
"Yes. That is under the supervision of his nurses. Each nurse has one or more patients under his or her care. They look after the surroundings, the environments, see that they are proper and conducive to his reform. And to them a great deal is due. They become his friends, and attempt to lead him by moral suasion away from evil. They look after his books. They see to it that time does not drag or the life in the hospital prove irksome. They look after his amusement and see that his mind is kept in a healthy condition, so as to be receptive of good thoughts from his physicians."
"It all seems very strange to me."
"Yes, no doubt it must to one who has never been taught that all crime and all evil is a disease which must be treated as such as much as any ailment of the body."
During this conversation we had been preparing to leave the house, and at the conclusion of my host's last remark were walking down the broad path to the gate. As we pursued our way along the street my mind was busy revolving the things he had told me. One point seemed a little incongruous, where so much pains was taken to reform a criminal before he had committed a crime, it did not seem quite consistent that his case should be tried in open court and visitors allowed to be present to hear the evidence, for in my own land when we wish to save a young man who has been tempted we try most of all to keep his fault from becoming known. The more I thought of this the more inconsistent it became and my friend, no doubt reading my thoughts, said:
"Were these not old offenders who are to be tried to-day we would not be permitted to witness the examination, for when a man is first brought before the court and sent to reformatory No. I, the whole proceeding is managed so very quietly that few need know of it. But after a man has been under the supervision of the seven judges of the inner court and then turns out bad, we consider it for the best interests of society that the public at large know what disease he is inclined to in order to protect itself against him. The men whose trial we are about to witness have passed through this stage, and hence their trial will be public."
When we reached the temple of justice I found a large marble structure, the interior of which, while very simple in design, gave one the idea of loftiness and grandeur. At one end, upon a platform, stood the judge's desk, behind which sat one of the criminal judges, of which there were ten in the state.
The prisoners were seated in front of him, with no guards near, at which I expressed my surprise. But my host told me in a low tone that the odylic force which was being concentrated upon them was of such power that they could move only as the judge desired.
There was really little examination of the witnesses themselves, the principal part of the trial consisting of the policemen's testimony. As we entered, the sergeant of the platoon which had the burglars in surveillance was speaking.
"Six months ago," he said, "these men were brought into the inner court and the records read concerning them. Three at that time were friends and conspiring to rob. The minds of the others were tainted with the same disease, but as yet had formed no combination. Since then I and my division have been keeping them under constant surveillance. Each possesses a strong will, which he placed in opposition to that of the seven judges. Three months ago the whole band drew closer together. They had not at that time settled upon any particular house to rob, but frequently held communication with one another upon the injustice of some men being rich while others were poor, and some men honored with office while others were but common citizens in a land which teaches the equality of man. Gradually this idea grew in their minds until they determined upon an equal division of wealth, and to carry out this idea decided upon robbing the wealthiest man in the city. Every preparation had been made and the robbery would have occurred last night had we not arrested them."
"Is this true?" asked the judge of the prisoners.
"It is," they replied. For in court where there can be no deceit and where mind reads mind, there are no spoken lies.
Sentence was immediately passed by the judge. The three original conspirators were committed to ward I of the burglary hospital, two of the others to ward 2 of the same institution, and the rest, whose minds were not so badly diseased, to ward 3. As soon as sentence was passed the men arose and, without guards, marched directly to the hospital, the odylic force, my host explaining, compelling them to do so.
Charles Curtz Hahn, The wreck of the South pole : or The great dissembler, and other strange tales 1899
