Wheelchair Bound and N in Court

       I dreamed that I was in a wheelchair. Not because my legs didn't work, but because every step sent shooting pains through my body. I could walk when I needed to, but even the jostling of the wheelchair as I drove over the cracks in the sidewalk sent shivers through my legs. We were going to a courthouse. It seems some of N's coworkers sued N's companies moral boosting team with some sort of discrimination suit.
       I thought this was odd, since the group was all volunteer, and everything they did, they did with volunteers. N assured me that they had always sent out company wide emails asking for volunteers for their various acts and committees, and, as far as she knew, they never turned anyone down.
       We finally made it to the courtroom, the audience area wasn't wheelchair accessible, so I had to climb the stairs. I had a set of stair climbing treads on the front of the chair, but tried to talk the bailiff into letting my stand up and pick the chair up, as there were only three steps.
       The answer seemed to be “No,” and “If you can walk, why do you need the chair?”
       “I can walk about forty or fifty feet before I collapse from the pain, that's why the chair.”
       The procedure began, it was a jury trial, as the plaintiffs knew they hadn't a chance in Hell of convincing a single Judge they were discriminated against, but might manage to get nine of twelve jurors to think so.
       The prosecution went through several tapes of skits and speeches that didn't feature any of them, and then rested. The defense then presented the email recruitment letter that went out for each of those groups, as well as the event invitations, and then her company tech department pulled up the email responses of each of the plaintiffs indicating that they wouldn't be participating. That seemed pretty much like a clincher right there for me. The defense had one more tactic.
       The defense had managed to get the recordings of all of the previous events and invitations, dating back to the time of service of the longest employed plaintiff.
       The prosecution tried to come back with the argument that the Veteran organization hadn't invited any of the plaintiffs to join.
       On cross examination, none of the plaintiffs were Vets.
       The judge rolled his eyes. The jury started sporting small smiles. I didn't stay for closing arguments, as I was becoming very uncomfortable. The bailiff helped me out during the recess and N and I walked/rolled across the street to a park. I had some trouble getting around as there were several steps around the park, but my little fuel-cell powered chair seemed to be able to navigate them fairly well, especially if N stepped on the back of the chair to lighten the load on the climbing wheels.
       Someone stopped to ask about the chair. I explained that the fuel-cell was good for about 120 miles and took just shy of a gallon of alcohol to fuel. I could get far more if the area were hilly and I used the regenerative breaking, or I assisted by pushing with my arms.