illiam Travis, a young man picked accidently via the purchase of a computer at a yard sale, is hypnotized, and ordered to murder three men. This all by one defrauded of his life's savings, and whose beloved wife dies as a result.

Although William is freed from any wrong doing by the law of the land, he still has something on his conscious . . . It is a foreboding of a sentence for wrong doing, an immense weight on his shoulders, something from which he runs, but from which cannot hide nor find relief.

It is ever with him: He knows too much . . . He has seen too much . . . He has done too much . . .

And now, others want the technology through which he has gained this massive weight. But they don't understand what it can do, nor what effects it can have on the human soul. There is death to masses in the technology. And death has been the constant companion since the invent of this technology.

Unbeknownst to him, the knowledge about him and his connection with the technology has unleashed the storms of greed in one person he thought was a friend; it has also gained the attention of a nation.

Now, William's second trial is in progress, and he sits on a folding chair beside the judges desk. In his mind somewhere is the phrase 'double jeopardy' but he's unable bring it to bear. Why can't he think? What has happened to his mind which only a couple of days ago, was clear and concise with a wonderfully bright future using technology afforded him by the late Gilroy Hastings?

The sound of the gavel striking the anvil sharply just a few feet away from him on the judges desk snaps him back to reality from the edge of oblivion. William realized he was fighting for his life here, but where was Lane Wardlow, his lawyer? And, where was Sharon his wife? And his parents? And her parents?

He was aware of being angrily spoken to. Somewhere through a fog that clouded his thinking, a voice was coming through. He sensed he was in a physical courtroom setting of sorts but mentally, he was somewhere deep within the corridors of a confused mind laden with technology originally meant only for a computer.

The gavel sounded again, and William jumped again startled at the sharp sound. Slowly the opaque fog thinned, and the scene came into his vision but out of focus. He sensed someone standing close to him but knew not who it was. He heard a snap of fingers, and he was instantly awake. He made the effort to stand but was prevented.

Something was very wrong and very heavy on his limbs. He looked down and there, on his wrists and ankles were shackles. He was ordered by the judge to take his seat. This he did noisily and clumsily, thanks to the shackles.

As soon as he'd taken his seat, he sees the baliff hand the Judge an envelope who unfolds the document inside, reads it and returns it to its enveolpe. He then hands it to the baliff and orders the accused to stand.

Laden heavily with the chains of a common criminal back in the middle ages era, it takes a mighty effort to get to his feet the chains sounding noisily in his ears.

The baliff clears his throat and with the voice of authority, and reads; "William J. Travis. You have been tried by a court of law in the State of California and have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. This court sentences you the death penalty. You have two hours to set your house in order."

The chill of death and the realization of its final-ness settled onto Will like the moistness of the cold winter fog down in the San Joaquin valley. The same feeling which goes up ones spine when they see the flashing lights of a police car behind motioning to stop went up and down Wills spine now.

Death. The end. The unknown. The mystery behind that one, dreaded, solitary word. The question of what happens after it has stilled the body loomed, enlarging in his mind.

He was brought back to the moment by someone shaking his arm. "William, listen, the judge is asking you a question," his lawyer was saying.

The judges voice was angry and loud. "Mr. Haskell, do you have your client under control?"

Where had he heard that voice? Why could he not place it. He tried to focus his eyes on the judge. But all he could make out was a face that was vaguely familier. He should know that person.

From somewhere in the distance William heard his own detached voice reply, "yes sir, your honor."

The judge spoke again "and do you know why you have been awarded the death penalty?"

Again, from somewhere William could not determine heard his own detached voice reply, "yes sir, your honor."

"Very well," the judge sternly replied, then he looked William square in the eye, and said, "Death will be by hanging in two hours."

William fell. The stress, the strain, and the massive physical and mental demands on him the last few days were too much. He collapsed in a heap striking his head on the ledge behind him loosing him from the torment of consciousness.

The blood flowed freely from the wound, and would have drained his life away quite quickly but Will knew nothing of the efforts to save his life. He was somewhere else.

William Travis, somewhere deep in the throes of subconsiousness, remembered a hand-written note that said . . .

"YOUR SINS HAVE FOUND YOU OUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE AND FOUND WANTING. AN EYE FOR AN EYE, A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH. SET YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER, FOR THE GRIM REAPER COMETH . . . "