The old man sat alone at the defendant’s table, leaning back in his chair with defiance written across his face. Looking out from behind a thick, white beard, he scowled up at the judge.

The judge, for its part, gave nothing away. Not due to any particular effort on its part, but for the simple fact that the judge possessed no corporeal form. To the onlookers–those with light sensing organs, that is–it appeared as a hole in one’s vision. Perfectly round, perfectly flat, unchanged by distance or perspective no matter what angle an observer approached from. It spoke from everywhere and nowhere all at once, with words inaudible and yet perfectly understood.

“Prosecutor,” it said, “make your case.”

The prosecutor advanced from behind its table, gliding smoothly above the thin gray carpet without touching it. Two concentric wheels made up its body, each turning leisurely along its axis while drifting in and out of alignment with the other as the creature looked back and forth. Eyes studded the outer rim of each wheel, taking in the wide variety of creatures gathered in the viewing benches.

“Your honor,” the prosecutor began, “two cycles past during a routine celestial survey our team encountered an unregistered universe. This universe contained only a single life-bearing planet, and there we discovered no end of abominations. The entire world teems with life forms seemingly designed for no greater purpose than to inflict and experience pain and suffering. It is our contention that the accused brought this universe into existence, deliberately neglected to register it with the central development archive, and then guided its evolution to produce this planet of horrors.”

The old man at the defendant’s table sprang to his feet, pointing at the prosecutor and shouting.

“Preposterous! I’ve never heard of such a place!”

“Then you didn’t create it?” the prosecutor asked?

“I’ve never set foot in it. Never laid eyes on it!”

The prosecutor directed its gaze–or at least the majority of them–towards the judge.

“May I continue?” it asked.

“Proceed. And I would remind the defendant to wait for his allotted time for rebuttal.”

The judge’s stern disapproval resonated through the room, unspoken and unheard but felt nonetheless. The prosecutor continued.

“I would like to introduce prosecution exhibit A.”

At this, a cylinder resting atop a pedestal slowly rose from the floor in the center of the courtroom, coming to rest with its contents at eye level. The cylinder, filled with water, contained a single organism crouching against the bottom edge and regarding the courtroom with wide eyes.

“This,” the prosecutor continued, “is known on its world as an octopus. For a lower life form, the octopus is devilishly smart and shockingly malicious. It exhibits a level of intelligence just shy of full consciousness, but close enough to leave it painfully semi-aware and perpetually chasing knowledge it cannot fully comprehend.

“Left to itself, this creature’s peculiar combination of cunning, physical agility, and moral ambiguity could have led to its descendants threatening the cosmos as we know it. The only thing holding this present species back is its life span. From the day of its birth, the octopus will grow old and die in less than a tenth of a millicycle.”

This drew gasps of shock from the audience. A high, keening wail burst forth from the many throats of a bipedal cat with wings and half a dozen heads, until the cool touch of the judge’s attention brought it back to its senses.

“As shocking as these allegations may be,” the judge intoned, “we will have order in the courtroom. Defendant, do you have any answer to this charge?”

“I certainly do,” the old man snarled. “None of this implicates me! The prosecution presents a great and heinous crime, certainly, but who did this thing? Not me! Why, was Beelzebub not released from confinement a hundred cycles ago? If anything, this looks like his work. Or perhaps Grantheq. Its last known location was only three globes away from this unregistered universe, which would not be its first!”

The judge paused for a moment to consider, and in that moment paused time itself inside the courtroom. After a short deliberation, it resumed the proceedings. For the first time, it regarded the prosecutor with some impatience.

“I am inclined to agree,” it said. “This evidence, while galling, does not speak to the defendant’s culpability.”

The old man glared at the prosecutor.

“My apologies, your honor,” it said. “This should all become clear shortly. Let me introduce prosecution exhibit B.”

At this the court room doors swung open and an impish little creature with horns and a forked tail emerged pushing a gurney. Atop the gurney lay a figure hidden beneath a sheet. The imp pushed the gurney past row after row of curious onlookers, past the prosecutor and a defendant now beginning to sweat profusely, and positioned it next to the octopus tank.

“This,” the prosecutor explained, “is perhaps the most wretched creature on the entire planet. It is highly intelligent, and yet mortal. Inclined to intellectual pursuits, but weighed down by material necessity.

“It can comprehend its circumstances in astonishing detail, but finds itself nearly incapable of changing them. This leaves it in a state of perpetual anxiety and confusion, both intellectual and moral. It develops surpluses only to squander them. Constructs elaborate edifices–both metaphorical and physical–for the subjugation of its fellows while extolling the virtues of liberty.

“This life form, cultivated in the darkness of this backwards and isolated world, knows the touch of no greater being and so yearns for imagined gods. And yet in its own depravity it recoils and cowers from true divinity! For this reason I had no choice but to render the specimen unconscious, as the mere sight of our assemblage would do irreparable damage to its fragile psyche.”

The audience hung on the prosecutor’s every word, yearning for a sight of the thing beneath the sheet. The old man sat behind his table. No longer confrontational, but subdued. He stared at the foot of the gurney, daring not to raise his eyes.

“This creature,” the prosecutor said, his voice rising to a crescendo, “this absolute pinnacle of abomination, looks exactly like you!”

At this he brought every eye he could to bear on the defendant, and the imp yanked the sheet off the gurney. Lying atop it sat the serene, sleeping form of a human man.