Dredd Jules Upd Page

“No.”

“Control. Perp neutralized. Crime scene: hab-block Aurelius, sub-level 12. Recommend psych-eval for responding officer.”

Dredd looked at the poet. Then at the slate. Then back. dredd jules

“The Law is a cage, and the jailer has forgotten the key is in his own hand.”

“I believe you.” Jules reached into his coat—slowly, because the alternative was a hot round to the skull. He produced a single, blank data-slate. “This is my last poem. No ink. No neural spike. Just words. My confession.” Recommend psych-eval for responding officer

Jules tilted his head. “And what about you, Dredd? Ever wonder? Ever feel the weight of a single, un-permitted tear?”

And that was the law.

The man called Jules didn’t move. He was skeletal, clad in a patchwork of velvet and mylar, his face a canvas of smeared silver paint. He looked less like a criminal and more like a dying moth.