Poe tilted his head. "From time to time."

"I'm sure they have. You sound like you might, in fact, be a good singer."

"Thank you."

"Do you sing, Dr. Poe?"

"Yes."

"At what venues?"

"Objection," said Lopez, spreading her arms. "Relevance."

"All will be revealed soon," said Draper, looking at the judge.

Herrington frowned for a moment, then said, "I have a very conservative definition of 'soon,' Mr. Draper. But go ahead."

"Thank you," said Deshawn. "Dr. Poe, at what venues do you sing?"

"When I was putting myself through school, at night clubs, weddings, the odd corporate function."

"But you're not going to school now," said Deshawn. "Do you still get much of a chance to sing?"

"Yes."

"And where would that be?"

"In a choir."

"A church choir, isn't that correct?"

Poe shifted slightly in his seat. "Yes."

"What denomination?"

"Episcopalian."

"So, you sing in the choir at a Christian church, correct?"

"Yes."

"As part of the formal church services each Sunday, correct?"

"Your honor," said Lopez. "Again, relevance?"

"I've made it through the S and first O of 'soon,' your honor," said Draper. "Let me go the rest of the way."

"All right," said Herrington, tapping a stylus impatiently against his bench.

"You sing in church services," said Draper, looking back at Poe.

"Yes."

"Would you describe yourself as a religious person?"

Poe was defiant now. "I suppose I am, yes. But I'm not a nut."

"Do you believe in God?"

"That is the sine qua non of being religious."

"You do believe in God. Do you believe in the devil?"

"I'm not some Bible-thumping fundamentalist," said Poe. "I'm not a literalist. I believe the universe is, as the current figure has it, 11.9 billion years old. I believe life evolved from simpler forms through natural selection. And I don't believe in fairy stories."

"You don't believe in the devil?"

"Correct."

"What about hell?"

"An invention that owes more to the poet Dante than anything in rational theology," said Poe. "Stories of hell and devils were perhaps of use when clergy had to deal with illiterate, uneducated, unsophisticated populations. But we are none of those things; we can follow moral arguments, and make reasoned moral choices, without being threatened by bogeymen."

"Very good," said Deshawn. "Very good. So you've dispensed with most of the sillier trappings of primitive religion, is that it?"

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it in such an impolitic way."

"But you don't believe in the devil?"

"No."

"And you don't believe in hell?"

"No."

"And you don't believe in Noah's flood?"

"No."

"And you don't believe in souls?"

Poe was silent "Dr. Poe? Would you respond to my question, please? Is it true that you don't believe in souls?"

"That a would not be my position."

"You mean you do believe in souls?"

"Well, Ia"

Deshawn stepped in front of his table. "Do you believe you have a soul?"

"Yes," said Poe, rallying now. "Yes, I do."

"And how did you come by this soul?"

"It was given to me by God," said Poe.

Deshawn looked meaningfully at the jury, then turned back to Poe. "Can you explain for us what the soul is, in your conception?"

"It is the essence of who I am," said Poe. "It is the spark of the divine within me. It is the part of me that will survive death."

"In your understanding of these matters, does every living human being have a soul?"

"Absolutely."

"No exceptions?"

"None."

Deshawn had moved out into the well and was pointing back at Karen, seated at the plaintiff's table. "Now, please look at Ms. Bessarian here. Does she have a soul?"

Karen was all alert attention, her green eyes bright.

Poe's voice was emphatic. "No."

"Why not? How can you tell?"

"She's * it's * a manufactured object. You might as well ask whether a stove or a car has a soul."

"I understand your assertion. But other than an a priori belief, Dr. Poe, how can you tell that Ms. Bessarian doesn't have a soul? What test can you conduct to demonstrate that you do have a soul, and she does not?"

"There is no such test."

"Indeed there is not," said Deshawn.

"Objection," said Lopez. "That's not a question."

"Sustained," said Judge Herrington.

Deshawn nodded contritely. "All right," he said. "But this is: Dr. Poe, do you believe that God will judge you after death?"

Poe was quiet for a moment. He had the look of an animal that knew it was being hunted. "Yes, I do."

"And what is it that God is judging?"

"Whether I've been moral or immoral in my life."

"Yes, yes, but what part of you is He judging? Remember, by this point, you're dead. He's obviously not judging your now-cold body, is He?"

"No."

"And He's not judging the electrically dead hunk of matter that was your brain, is He?"

"No."

"So what is He judging? What part of you?"

"He's judging my soul."

Deshawn looked at the jury, and spread his arms. "Well, that hardly seems fair. I mean, surely it was your body or your brain that undertook any immoral acts. Your soul was just along for the ride."

"Wella"

"Isn't that the case? When you talked earlier in your fancy philosophical terms about a rider within, about a true consciousness that accompanies the zombie body, the rider you were referring to is really the soul, isn't it? Isn't that your contention fundamentally?" Deshawn let the last word echo in the air for a moment.

"Well, Ia"

"If I'm mistaken, Dr. Poe, please correct me. In plain, layman's terms, there is no meaningful distinction between our true consciousness and what the rest of us understand to be the soul, correct?"

"That would not be my formulationa"

"If there is a difference, please articulate it, professor."

Poe opened his mouth but said nothing; he looked quite like one of those fishy ancestors he had enumerated earlier.

"Dr. Poe?" said Deshawn. "The court is waiting for your answer."

Poe closed his mouth, took a deep breath through his nose, and seemed to think. "In layman's terms," he said at last, "I concede that the two terms are conflated."

"You concede that your philosophical notion of consciousness superimposed on the zombie, and the religious notion of the soul superimposed on the biological body, are essentially the same thing?"

After a moment, Poe nodded.

"A verbal response, please, professor * for the record."

"Yes."

"Thank you. Now, we were talking a few moments ago about God judging souls after death. Why is it that God does that?"

Poe fidgeted in his chair. "I * I don't understand the question."

Deshawn spread his arms. "I mean, what's the sense in God judging souls? Don't they just do whatever God intended them to do?"

Poe narrowed his eyes; he was clearly wary for a trap, but couldn't see it. Nor, frankly, could I. "No, no. The soul chooses to do good or evil * and, eventually God holds it accountable for those choices."

"Ah," said Deshawn. "So the soul has volition, does it?"

Poe looked at Lopez, as if seeking guidance. I saw her shrug infinitesimally. The professor shifted his gaze back to Deshawn. "Yes, of course," he said at last.