The Only, Lonely Supreme Court Justice

It’s 2075, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, for the tenth time that week and probably thousandth time that year, raised her head up to the heavens (or, as close to it as her withering, cursed body would allow these days) and cried out — fine, croaked out — “why am I so alooooooonnnnne? Why must justice require all these empty chairrrrrrsssssss?”

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