Distortion

"For the past forty years, a significant portion of nonconsequentialist moral philosophy has been devoted to refining our moral intuitions about the harms to others we may or may not causally bring about through our acts or omissions," Barbara Fried read aloud from the abstract of her paper. "The consequences of the available choices are stipulated to be known with certainty ex ante; the agents are all individuals; the would‐be victims are identifiable individuals in close proximity to the agents; and the agents face a one‐off decision about how to act."

The class that Professor Fried taught, my Substantive Criminal Law class, was, above all, my favorite. Since the beginning of my first year of undergraduate school, I had heard such great things about her. By their third year of undergraduate school, half the criminal justice majors would either get Barbara Fried or Phillip Malone for their professors for their Substantive Criminal Law class. While both were renowned professors at Stanford, apparently she had a way of teaching that really stuck with you - that you were legitimately intrigued by. And damn, were they right.

After she dismissed the class, the professor called me down to her desk. "Ms. Charleston, I'd like to speak with you." I smiled and walked down from my usual spot at the top of the auditorium and greeted her at her seat. "Yes?"

She stood up and clasped her hands together. "I know it's only the end of your first semester for this class, but I've seen a lot of promise in you, Vienna. Your past professors have highly praised you. I'm very impressed. You're going to do very well in the world."

I smiled from ear to ear. "Thank you so much, Professor. That's a wonderful compliment."

She laughed. "Well, I'm not quite done yet. I have an offer for you. I'm choosing two of my students to accompany me on a trip this weekend. I'm going to Sacramento to do my annual lecture there Saturday evening, and there's a dinner afterward. I've already notified the other student, and he accepted the offer. I'd like you to join me. I would introduce the both of you to many of my former colleagues and friends who are associated in the field of criminal justice and law. The hotel rooms, the food - all expenses paid. This would provide you with a lot of opportunities after you get out of school. What do you think?"

I couldn't believe it. This was all I had ever wanted, but I never expected for it to happen while I was still in school - I always predicted that my opportunities would present themselves after I had graduated.

"Yes, absolutely, of course. Thank you. Thank you so much," I said, laughing.

Professor Fried smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. There is one thing, though - a few days ago, when I went to reserve the hotel rooms, there were only two left. I believe there's some kind of huge medical conference going on this weekend as well. One had one king-sized bed and the other had two queens. You're going to have to share the one with two queens with Jack Murphy, the other student. He's a very kind young man and I think the two of you will get along well. I hope you don't mind."

"Sure, sure, that's fine. When do we leave?"

"The drive to Sacramento from here is roughly two hours. My lecture begins at 5:30pm and will last for an hour, and then dinner will start. Us three will sit at a reserved table with a few good friends of mine. I'll be leaving at noon on Saturday so I can meet up with some friends of mine and prepare for my lecture, so I suggest you leave, at the latest, 2:30. That way you can check in the hotel and get a good seat. The hotel we're staying at is The Citizen Hotel, where the lecture is being held. On Sunday, after we check out, I'll take you to lunch at The Kitchen, the nicest restaurant in Sacramento, and introduce you to a few more of my friends. I'll have to leave immediately after - I have some papers I need to grade before Monday - but you and Mr. Murphy can stay as long as you'd like."

"Okay, that sounds great. Thank you so much again for this opportunity. I can't thank you enough." I shook her hand.

"Have a good day, Ms. Charleston."


Saturday was finally here. After many sleepless nights due to my excitement for this weekend, I woke up, put on my nicest black dress, packed a bag, and got in the car. On the drive over, I didn't pay much thought to my temporary roommate once I got there. All I knew about him was that, in our court simulations, he was always a very impressive defense lawyer. He was a natural at it - he knew exactly what to say and how to say it. He asked the right questions and spoke to the jury very convincingly.

The two-hour drive seemed to take 5 hours. It was like the adult version of a kid going to Disneyworld. I had only been to Sacramento once to stay with a friend and go see the Tower Bridge, a vertical lift bridge that is one of the most notable points of interest in the city. Professor Fried hadn't said much about The Citizen Hotel, but oh my god - when I arrived, I was in pure awe. When I drove to the front entrance, a valet came out to greet me and park my car. "Thank you," I said, smiling, and grabbed my bag.

The inside could best be described as retro. The color scheme was mostly black, white, and red. Everything was so modern-looking, but so unique at the same time. You always expect these nice, luxurious hotels to have expensive, similar-looking furniture, but this was quite different. It was incredibly interesting, to say the least.

I walked to the front desk. The hotel was extremely crowded, with most of these people probably getting prepared for the medical conference and the rest of them getting ready for the lecture. "I'm here to check in," I said. "The name should be under Barbara Fried." The desk clerk looked up at me. "You're Vienna Charleston, I'm guessing?" I nodded. He smiled and handed me the room key. "Enjoy your stay."

I thanked him and made my way to the elevator. The back wall of the elevator read, in gold, a quote by Winston Churchill: "Democracy's the worst form of government except for all the others."

My room was on the highest floor of the building. I found it and slid the key in, curious what the guest rooms looked like in comparison to the rest of the hotel. I opened the door and saw a man inside, unpacking his things on one of the beds.

He looked over at me and smiled. "You must be Vienna," he said. "I'm Jack."