THE REPEAT ROOM

In an arcane future legal system, a garbage collector is called to serve as a jury of one.

With his enigmatic approach, it’s hard to say that a surrealist like Ball is back on brand. That said, longtime readers will find this Black Mirror–flavored episode closer to The Divers’ Game (2019) or A Cure for Suicide (2015) than to his more conventional deliveries. Our point of entry into this peculiar world is Abel Cotter, a 40-something sanitation worker—he prefers “heavy-machine operator”—and a complete cipher despite a tragic backstory. Abel has been selected to serve on the jury of a futuristic justice system meant to focus on forward progress rather than corporal punishment, the ultimate goal being to eliminate “unfit” individuals from society. Its execution depends on the titular device, a cryptic machine that enables the juror to experience the accused’s life firsthand, down to feelings, motivations, and regrets. Unlike a typical jury, this one is narrowed by process of elimination, a process starkly explained to Abel with warnings like, “You may be a coward. This has been taken into account,” and “This is not your regular life. Have a care.” Our glimpses of Abel’s experience evoke the TV series The Prisoner and the invasive justice parlayed in Philip K. Dick’s The Minority Report. Just when you think you’ve figured things out, Ball changes tempo midstream when we meet the accused. In the second half of the book, the unnamed defendant narrates his surreal, taboo relationship with his sister, set against the backdrop of an abusive household and culminating in her death. Ball puts down broad brush strokes here about bureaucratic justice versus human frailty, but the devil is in the details; his disorienting style and the unsettling atmosphere deliver a uniquely uncomfortable experience.

A provocative vision of a world desperately in search of basic human compassion.