“I think it’s the wave of the future,” said Herb Franklin, the ex-psychologist who was now an assistant district attorney.

Randolph Halpern was the judge, and he had always thought that Franklin had taken his law degree and passed the bar exam merely so that he could be accepted into the Carleton Club.

The Carleton was the capital city’s poshest and most exclusive of private clubs. Only lawyers and political officeholders were allowed membership. Since virtually every political officeholder also possessed a law degree, only the occasional outsider gained membership to the Carleton, and he was almost always encouraged to resign by subtle yet effective snubs and discourtesies.

Franklin was one of those outsiders, in Halpern’s view, and the judge was inwardly incensed that the man could sit beside him in the dark mahogany paneling of the Men’s Bar just as if he truly belonged here. Franklin was a round, jolly fellow with a snow-white beard that made him look like Santa Claus. But Justice Halpern still could not accept Franklin as an equal. The man was an outsider and always would be, in the judge’s view. A psychologist! And now he was advocating this ridiculous idea of letting virtual reality duels serve as valid legal suits!

“It’s never been done before!” protested Justice Halpern. “There’s no precedent for it. Absolutely none.”

Randolph Halpern was slim as a saber, his head shaved totally bald, although he wore the same pencil-thin moustache he had sported since his college days. His suit was impeccably tailored, dark gray. A solid maroon tie was knotted perfectly at his lean, wattled throat.

Gorton rubbed his reddish nose and said, “Well, by golly, it sounds like a fun idea to me.” He signaled to the Hispanic waiter for a refill of his scotch.

“Fun,” Halpern sneered, thinking, Of course an intellectual properties lawyer would favor this kind of gadgetry. And Franklin, sitting next to him and smiling like a benevolent Father Christmas. Psychologist. A lawyer should be a serious man, filled with gravitas. Yet Franklin sat there with that maddening grin on his bearded, chubby face and a mug of ale in his fist.

“I’ll grant you it could be exciting, Rick,” Franklin said to the patent attorney. “But it’s more serious than that. Court calendars all over the state are jammed so badly that it takes months, sometimes years, for a case to be heard. That’s a long time to wait for justice.”

“Lucrative, though,” observed Nottingham laconically. Halpern nodded at the man. He’s a real lawyer. He knows billable hours from balderdash.

“That’s another point,” said Franklin. “Lots of citizens can’t afford to take a case to court.”

“They’re too cheap to pay the piper,” Halpern countered.

Franklin shook his head. “They’re denied justice because it’s too expensive. And too slow. The dueling machine could allow them to obtain closure swiftly and at a reasonable cost.”

Gorton took another sip of scotch and mused, “You have a difference with somebody. Instead of suing the guy and having your case drag through the courts for God knows how long—”

Franklin interjected, “And paying through the nose for every phone call and trip to the men’s room that your attorney makes.”

Nodding amiably, Gorton went on, “Yeah. Instead of that, you go to one of VR Duels, Inc.’s facilities. You and your opponent agree on the setting for the duel and the weapons to be used, then you whack the hell out of each other in virtual reality. Nobody gets hurt and you abide by the results of the duel just as if it was legally binding.”

“It would be legally binding,” Nottingham pointed out, “if the state supreme court rules favorably on the matter.” He cast a questioning eye toward Justice Halpern.

Before the judge could say anything, Franklin added, “And it would be much more satisfying emotionally to the participants in the duel. Much more satisfying than having a judge or jury or court-appointed mediator decide on your case.”

Justice Halpern objected, “Now, really. . .”

“Yes, really,” Franklin insisted. “Psychological studies have shown that even the losers in a VR duel feel more satisfied with the results than they would with a verdict handed down by a court of law.”

“Those studies were funded by VR Duels, Inc., were they not?” Nottingham asked drily.

“It doesn’t matter,” Halpern said flatly. “The supreme court will not allow virtual reality duels to have the same legal standing as a court’s decision. Not if I have anything to do with it!”

Nottingham nodded as if satisfied. Gorton looked a trifle abashed. Franklin’s habitual smile faded for a moment but quickly returned to his bearded face once again.

Justice Halpern downed the last of his brandy and soda, then pushed away from the table.

“This dueling-machine business is one thing,” he said as he got to his feet. “But I have a really important problem to deal with.”

As the other three got up from their chairs, Franklin asked, “A really important problem?”

“Yes,” said Halpern. “The board’s been petitioned to open the Men’s Bar to female members.”

Gorton’s eyes went wide. “The Men’s Bar? But they can’t do that! Can they?”

His lean, austere face showing utter distaste, Justice Halpern said, “I knew we should never have allowed women to become members of the Club.”

“Had to, didn’t we?” Franklin asked. “It’s the law. Equal rights and all that.”

His expression going from distaste to outright disgust, Halpern said, “Yes, we had to, according to the law of the land. But we agreed to keep the Men’s Bar sacrosanct! They agreed to it! But now those aggressive, loud-mouthed feminists are going back on the agreement. They’ve petitioned the board to ‘liberate’ the Men’s Bar.”

“The board won’t go for that, will they?” Gorton asked, looking worried.

“They certainly shouldn’t,” said Nottingham, with some heat. “We need someplace on God’s green Earth where we can be away from them.”

Justice Halpern nodded. “The board’s appointed a committee to study the matter. We’re meeting in ten minutes to plot out our strategy and make a recommendation to the full board when it meets on the first of the month.” With that, he strode out of the Men’s Bar, leaving the other three standing at their table.

“He’s going to give himself a heart attack,” Gorton mused as he sat down again and reached for his drink.

Franklin shook his head. “No. The judge is the kind of man who doesn’t get a heart attack, he gives them.”

Nottingham chuckled. “But he seems dead set against this dueling-machine proposition.”

“And he’s the swing vote on the supreme court, from what I hear,” said Gorton.

Franklin beckoned to the waiter for another mug of ale, then hunched forward in his chair like a conspirator about to reveal his plans.

“About the dueling machine,” he said, his voice lowered.

“Yes?”

“You remember Martin Luther King’s famous line, ‘I have a dream?’”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have a scheme.”

Thus it was arranged that Rick Gorton, amiable Pooh-bear of a man, would challenge Justice Halpern to a duel. It was all done in a very friendly way, of course. The next afternoon, when the four men met again at the club, Halpern was in a smiling mood.

Gazing around the warm dark paneling of the Men’s Bar, the judge said with some satisfaction, “Well, at least I got the committee to agree that we should dig in our heels and recommend that the board reject the women’s petition out of hand.”

“D’you think the board will have the guts to follow your recommendation?” Gorton asked.

“They caved in to the women before,” Nottingham recalled, clear distaste in his voice and face.

“They haven’t been particularly famous for their courage,” Franklin added.

With tight-lipped determination, Justice Halpern said, “The board will follow my rec—er, I mean, the committee’s recommendation, never fear.” He looked admiringly around the soothingly dark, pleasingly quiet room. “This old place will remain a male bastion.”