3.2 Those Above the Law

Deen and I arrived in class with five minutes to spare. Professor Gallagher wasn’t in yet.

Our classmates were huddled into groups, animatedly talking as if the lecture hall were a marketplace. Some of them were watching videos. I bet their topic was the Adumbrae attack.

Normally, everyone would be poring over their notes by now so they could answer the professor’s questions. If one couldn’t, they had to stand until Professor Gallagher would give them another chance to answer. It was just our second week with this asshole and my classmates were already afraid. Not of the standing part. So what if we had to stand for thirty minutes or even an hour? The problem of my classmates was the shame of everyone looking at them standing, knowing they got something wrong.

Part of me could understand that. I get pissed when put in the spotlight without my intention. Maybe my issue was different from my classmates, but I studied well for this class just the same.

When we entered the room, everyone’s attention turned to us. Or rather, Deen. She had an eternal glow everywhere she went.

I adjusted my glasses as I went down the tiers of the lecture hall.

Around seventy or maybe eighty percent of Cresthorne students wore glasses or contacts; wearing one too formed some subliminal connection with them. Glasses also made a person look smarter, more dependable, and, overall, a good person. Sounds basic, I know, but I’ve read about defense attorneys having their clients wear glasses to pump up their uprightness meter for the jury.

“Oh, Erind, you’re here,” Adrian said. “Hey there, Deen! Looking good as always.”

I blinked for a moment. This generic, good-looking guy greeted me first? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Someone was messing with the script again.

Deen audibly exhaled. “Come up with a better line.”

“I was mentioning a fact.” He faced me again. “Anyway, uh, Erind, can we ask you some questions?”

Adrian was talking to me instead of Deen? My other classmates were looking at me too. Not at Deen. They surrounded me as I sat in my usual spot.

“Erind, are you alright?” asked the guy sitting next to me. Ramello Staten was his name, Mr. Overachiever.

We became classmates only this second semester, but I was familiar with him even before law school. He was a mini-celebrity because he came from an impoverished family and got accepted at the prestigious Cresthorne Law. The guy also has tons of awards, including a medal from the White House. Not sure what it was for; probably some civic duty stuff. He worked in various NGOs, did all sorts of things that’d get him on Santa’s good boy list. Very athletic and has musical skills too.

“I’m super fine,” I said, tired of the question.

“Awesome, yeah. Listen, if you have any problems, I can—" I didn’t get to hear what Ramello said next because our other classmates bombarded me with questions about what happened yesterday.

“Erind, were there really three Adumbrae?”

“Did you see dead people? Blood? I would’ve barfed if I saw those.”

“My dad says this is a terrorist attack. Uh, what do you think?”

Here we go. “I don’t know much.”

“I was just running.”

“I didn’t see Adumbrae or dead people.”

I kept repeating my answers.

Was this how celebrities felt? I parried question after question, but they kept coming. These people were too affected by an Adumbrae attack. Three monsters showing up after seven years of being the safest city in the country must’ve rattled them. They should chill out a bit. I became an Adumbrae and was pretty relaxed.

“Did you see Kelsey there?” Adrian asked. “I heard that she rode the train with the monsters.”

“Kelsey?” That name sounded familiar, though I wasn’t good with names of people I didn’t interact with on the regular. She was our batchmate, if I wasn’t mistaken. “From Section Three? I don’t think I’ve seen her around there.”

“That’s enough, guys,” Deen said. “You’re overwhelming Erind. She’s been through a lot. Let her—”

The door opened with a bang, shutting everyone up.

“Good morning, class,” Professor Gallagher said in a deep voice, projecting strongly up the tiers. The soles of his leather dress shoes clanked against the wooden floors.

Everyone scurried to their seats. Deen sat beside me and rubbed my back as if I had been crying and she was comforting me. Much concern splashed across her face. She was treating me like a freaking baby. We were both twenty-three, just that she was older by a few months. How I wish I had my mother’s height.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, twisting away from her touch. “Let’s focus on the lesson.”

“According to my assistant,” Professor Gallagher said, “many of you messaged her to ask if classes are canceled. I was informed that it is the professor’s prerogative to do so, in light of yesterday’s events, and many of my colleagues did. But I am not like them. I’m not sorry to disappoint all of you that we have a class today. The Adumbrae attack yesterday should impel you to work harder on your studies.”

This guy was a your-spot-in-Cresthorne-is-a-privilege kind of teacher and didn't hesitate to throw people out of class if he deemed them undeserving of their spot. He only carried the class list and nothing else, though he doesn’t do roll calls. He had warned us that those missing when he’d call their name would have no spot in the next session.

“Last week, we began our introduction to International,” said Professor Gallagher. “The basics, definitions, an overview of the course. The next step in your learning is to tackle each of those concepts in turn, going down the syllabus. However, I want to get more nuanced about International Law as a whole. I want you to have a deeper understanding now so you’ll appreciate the lessons.”

The entire class was silent, waiting who’d be the poor sod to get called first.

Running his finger down the names of students, Professor Gallagher called, “Mr. Narvaez.”

“Sir!” Carlos jumped to his feet.

“A review—what is International Law?”

“It’s the collection of legal rules, norms, and standards generally accepted as binding by sovereign states,” Carlos fluidly answered.

“Sovereign states only?”

“No, sir! It also binds internationally recognized legal entities or organizations operating on an international level.”

“Text-book answer, Mr. Narvaez. You’ll pass the bar with that,” Professor Gallagher said with a smirk. Carlos hesitantly looked around, uncertain if he was being complimented or not. He wasn't. “Now, let’s dissect your answer, Mr. Narvaez. Generally accepted, you say. Who decides to accept that set of rules?”

“Well, the states themselves, sir.”

“Any specific person? It can’t be everyone in that state, can it?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Uh, no, sir. It’ll be the leaders of—”

“This will prompt the question, what if the current leaders won’t accept the acts of their predecessors?”

“Uh, well…”

“What if the new guy in charge says that he doesn’t want to follow the treaty signed by the previous guy? What then?”

“The other states won’t trust them that much.”

Professor Gallagher wagged his finger at Carlos. “And that, right there, is what makes International Law binding… in a sense. Only in a sense. There’s no world government or supreme planetary authority that can force nation states into compliance if they don’t want to abide by treaties or international customs. This is different from municipal law, where a cop can arrest you if you don’t comply. We can be cerebral or mystical about International Law, but it truly is very simple—states play nice because it is rewarded by others playing nice as well.”

That’s why I make friends with everyone, I mused. Life was a whole lot easier without enemies. And though I was different, conforming to society was the path of least resistance. This was more applicable now that I became an Adumbrae.

“States may choose not to play nice,” Professor Gallagher continued, “if they think it’s worth the consequence. Our country has done so in a number of cases—actual cases. We’ll study them. The USA can afford to throw its weight around because it is very weighty indeed. Other countries can’t do so and must comply with the rules of the playground.”

I smiled. Professor Gallagher couldn’t help but push his image of a ‘tells-it-as-it-is’ kind of teacher. I was entertained by that archetype in movies. Maybe I could use a more assertive face next time.

“It doesn’t sound like we’re living in a rules-based world if I put it that way, doesn’t it?” Professor Gallagher chuckled as he paced. “But that’s how it is, my dear students. International Law is an illusion that everyone agrees is real. Almost everyone. Most of the time. And the world goes around. This isn’t how you’ll answer the bar exams, you hear me?”

The class mumbled in agreement.

“Perhaps it has not sunk into your brains that International Law is this… finicky. Let’s go back to legalese-sounding discussions, shall we? You may sit, Mr. Narvaez. Ms. Rossi?”

A girl with a timid-nerdy persona stood up. Annoying that we got two of the same character archetype in the same class. Good thing that Deen was my best friend, automatically making me higher-ranked than Mikaela Rossi, the Copycat. Other than this issue, Mikaela was quite nice. She gave me a cupcake that she had baked once. Anyone who’d give me something sugary was on my good side.

Professor Gallagher said, “International Law… We have the formal side, the treaties and agreements. We have the informal side, which is largely based on custom. What are customs supposed to be, Ms. Rossi?”

Mikaela answered, “Customs? Uh, in the context of International Law, they are consistent practices of the states coupled with the belief that such action was a legal obligation or opinio juris.”

Professor Gallagher chuckled. “Are you telling us that it’s based on a state’s belief that it’s legally obligated to act in a certain way?”

Mikaela looked hesitant. “Yes, Sir?”

“Are you asking me a question?” Professor Gallagher let out a hollow laugh.

“Uh, no, sir. I was—"

“It is true. Fancy Latin phrases. Opinio juris sive necessitates—an opinion of law or necessity. Belief in a legal obligation. But then, we know that there’s no higher authority governing states. It’s all about playing nice with each other. Technically, there’s no legality here to speak of. Rather, it’s reputation. I want all of you to keep that in mind.

“Further along this semester, we will discuss how the hell one can show a state’s action was motivated by the belief it was legally obligated to do so. Sounds insane… because it is. The insanity that is International Law. You may sit down, Ms. Rossi. And next time, be confident with your answers.” The professor scanned the class list. “Moving on.”

Reputation. Playing nice. I smiled. This was how Adumbrae blended in with their community until they could no longer hang on, becoming either a UM or a CM. So many times, I had seen neighbors of Adumbrae say during interviews that they never suspected this of that guy of becoming a monster.

“Uh, Erind?” Ramello interrupted my thoughts. “Is something wrong with your hand?”

Hand? My eyes widened for a split second as I realized what I was doing—I absentmindedly scratched the small crystal growth on my palm with my thumb. The skin-tone pimple patch I used to cover it was already crumpled and loosening.

I closed my right hand. “I accidentally cut my hand while chopping vegetables. Just a shallow cut. I was trying to peel off the scab.” I grinned sheepishly as if embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a gross thing to say.”

“I’m not going to be grossed out by that,” Ramello Staten said. “Do you cook at home?”

No, I was chopping vegetables for fun, I thought sarcastically.

Instead, I said, “Yep, I cook.” I sat up straight and looked intently at the professor, hinting that the conversation was over. I tried to smooth the pimple patch on my palm.

“That’s awesome. I also love to cook, but can’t do it now. Law school takes up so much of our time.”

I could act like bitchy to shut him up but that wasn’t my face. “We could make time if we really want to. Though I know you’re so much busier than me, as I recall from the news.”

“Shush, you guys,” Deen hissed from my other side.

Ramello probably didn’t hear Deen. “Well, all that news.” He scratched his chin, looking slightly embarrassed. I didn’t want exposure or anything.”

I shrugged. “Let’s listen to—”

“Ms. Hartwell?” Professor Gallagher’s voice cut through the air. “I hope that you and Mr. Staten are discussing International Law. You’re up next.”

The fuck? Why was I made to be the instigator? I was just replying to Mr. Overachiever here. I stood up and said, “I’m ready, sir.”

“If you’ve been following the discussion, Ms. Hartwell, we’ve moved to international entities or organizations bound by International Law. Some examples, please.”

“There’s the International Financial Cooperative, the International Commerce Organization, the United Nations Security Council,” I said, “including affiliate organizations combatting Adumbrae like the Free Will Initiative.” I specifically mentioned the Initiative because, from my research, I learned that Professor Gallagher once worked as an advisor for them.

He nodded. “An easy enough question to answer. However, Ms. Hartwell, you didn't mention the Corebring Central Hive among the examples you gave. We have a substantial section of the syllabus on it.” Professor Gallagher raised the class list again to find the next person for recitation; he was going to leave me standing.

Gotcha, Professor, I thought with a mental smirk. I intentionally did what he assumed to be a mistake. “But, sir,” I piped up, surprising everyone.

Deen elbowed my hip. She gave me an incredulous stare as if I were insane.

I continued, unfazed, “You asked for examples of the international organizations bound by International Law.”

“Pardon, Ms. Hartwell?” Professor Gallagher raised a brow.

“Sir, the Corebring Hive is not bound by International Law. They just do their thing. Using your, uh, analogy, they don’t have to play nice with the rest of the world.”

He scratched his chin for a few silent seconds. “Remain standing, Ms. Hartwell.” He walked to his table, noisily pulled out his chair, and sat down. “Mr. Peterson, tell Ms. Hartwell why she is wrong.”

“Sir!” Nielson Peterson promptly stood up. “The Corebring Hive is bound by international law in the same way as all other international organizations are. States contribute to the Corebring Hive; states are bound by international law. By transitivity, the Hive is bound as well as it is part of the entire standing.”

Money? Just because the Corebrings receive money didn’t mean that they agreed to follow the rules. They kept the peace because it was the most efficient path for their goal of defeating the Adumbrae.

Professor Gallagher kept Nielson standing and continued to call other students to argue why I was wrong. This was going all according to my plan to upgrade my face this semester.

There were plenty of ways to classify professors at Cresthorne. Those intently observing whether students listened in class, and those who didn’t even care if no one showed up. Those who droned on and on, going off tangent all the time, and couldn’t finish half the syllabus for the semester, and those who stuck to the syllabus.

And, of course, there were professors more on the academic side, contrasted by those who teach with the ready disclaimer that whatever we learned was not how it worked in the ‘real world.’ Professor Gallagher was a this-is-different-in-practice type of guy. At least, I hoped my impression of him was correct.

Adrian stood up. “Sir, I’d like to point to the Washington Protocol. The Corebring Central Hive negotiated with our government for this agreement to be in place. By doing so, the Corebrings implicitly admit that they are bound by international law. They participate in the norms.”

They follow the norms until they don’t, I countered in my head. The Labor Day Purge was the prime counter-example. Though it might be in bad taste if I brought that up.

Even Deen was called to recite.

She glanced at me before saying, “Patterson vs. Washington State, humanity above all principle, sir. Corebrings are not under the jurisdiction of any international courts or states. However, their legal obligation is founded on the moral obligation of humanity uniting against the Adumbrae threat. Thus, they are obligated to follow international laws for the good of humanity.”

I nearly rolled my eyes. Moral obligation?

The Corebrings have the moral high ground in any scenario. They were superheroes! The doctrine in that case was pure lip service.

Eventually, half the class was standing. They must be annoyed at me for starting this argument.

At last, Professor Gallagher said, “What do you have to say, Ms. Hartwell?”