 
Forsaken

Part 1 of The Chronicles of Agilia

By Kevin Gordon

Copyright 2011 by Kevin Gordon

Smashwords Edition
Part I: Oblivion

"Have you ever had the feeling that you weren't meant to do something? Like, you're driving, and you reach the intersection of a road you must turn onto, a road you otherwise might not've even been on, and the light suddenly goes wrong? Traffic goes by, and you're faced with a choice; do I move forward, risk merging into the traffic, just to get where I was going? Or do I listen to this voice in my head, telling me it wasn't meant for me to go there, that the light going bad was a sign from Holis, and I should just turn back. Have you ever felt that?"

"Yeah, I suppose we all have."

Wudcina lingered for a moment, taking time to appreciate the impatience of youth, made blatant on her scarred yet beautiful face. He pushed back on his chair, resting the heels of his palms on the wide desk that separated the two of them. "And what we do, in that circumstance, defines who and what we are. There are those of us who thrill in trying something new and different, and taking chances. But even they sometimes turn back, when they see those signs."

In unconscious sympathy Agilia leaned back in her chair, a chair that felt too much like the ones she sat in as a child at school, in front of many teachers she always tried her best to ignore. It was stiff, with a thin metal frame and a wooden back and seat. The frame was even angled so she couldn't tilt the chair back on its hind legs and throw her feet up on the desk before her. Not even the thickness of her black duprene suit could dull the discomfort. She half expected to turn around and see one of the old rickety euals polishing the tile floors.

"And then there are those like me?"

"Yes. Those like you," answered Wudcina, somewhat seriously, somewhat mockingly. He was a short old man, with a thick, chiseled jaw around which hoops of wrinkles were laid. He leaned back in his wide chair behind an even wider, massive desk, and she hated him for his superiority. The office, though terribly cluttered, spoke of wealth and wisdom, and though he was grey with a little too much around his middle, he struck her as one of the most vibrant people she had come across in a very long time. "People who go on," he continued, "no matter the signs. People that seem to make their own destiny. Time is a beast, the likes of which you couldn't imagine. We now have a machine that can take us back in time. We can change things that went wrong, improve our own timeline."

"But?"

He sat up straight, and slammed his fist on the desk, sputtering out a surprised laugh. "You're not even amazed at what I just said, are you?! I just told you we now have a time machine, and you're not even the least bit impressed."

She shrugged. "Nope. Seems like it was only a matter of . . . time."

He winced at her attempt at humor. "Getting tired of me rambling on?"

Her eyes drifted casually out the window, onto the crowded grey streets bustling with life, wishing she could be out there, finding something to get into, some job to work on. She had never been inside a building like this, filled with men and women of the mind, in all her travels. The Science Foundation always had a certain degree of mystery about its name, after all, it was the only government institution able to snatch children away from their families and educate them on their own. But now that Agilia was finally inside, she saw it was filled with boring bureaucrats in white lab coats, just like she knew it would be. _I could never be like them – confined to one building, stuck with the same people day after dreary day. Well, at least you don't have to worry about where your food's coming from_. Her belly rumbled almost on cue, and in an instant the small degree of respect she had for Wudcina turned into a dull hatred at the fat hanging obscenely on his frame.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Well, you need to listen. People like you never do, though. Your type has figured out you always get your own way—you hate to listen to teachers, parents, anyone with authority. Because you're damned special."

She folded her arms with a satisfied smile. "From what you've said, I certainly am."

"Then listen!" He took a deep breath, preparing for the plunge. He hated that she had limited intelligence, or rather, limited exposure to science, but she was the best candidate available to him. _The only candidate_. "Time has two facets. The first part relates to the physical universe. You can't change an event without a correspondingly large amount of energy. The more factors the event will influence, the greater the energy needed. So changing the color of one's shoestring wouldn't need much energy. But changing someone's clothes, the position of their favorite chair, would require a lot. Killing someone important in the past requires a _fantastic_ amount of energy."

"Yeah, I know. But people like me don't need all that energy, do we?"

"No, you don't," he said, smiling approvingly. "All you need to worry about is the Holis side of things, the second facet of time."

Agilia sat up. "Excuse me?"

"Time is an aspect of Holis. And if you don't believe in the Iquitian sense of the word, than let us say time is an aspect of the Master-Creator. The MC watches us grow, and progress. Maybe one day our kind will evolve to exist in different temporal states, as we can now move about in the three-dimensions. But for the present, the MC doesn't want anyone messing with time. We've sent two agents back before you, and we've seen it happen. Those signs, those portents, grow larger and larger. When our agent gets near the target, things really go haywire. We've lost both agents, and we don't even know how it happened. Suffice to say they were moments from fulfilling their objective. Holis, or the MC, just didn't want them to finish."

She chuckled, and took another drink from the glass in front of her. "Sounds pretty damned crazy."

"Pretty damned crazy is traveling back in time. What happened to those two is pretty damned scary."

Down she fell along the side of the building, watching the windows slip past her at a frightening rate. Iqui was a terribly crowded world, densely packed with people, overrun with buildings, infested with ground cars, aerocars, transports – even the air was packed to the point it could almost be seen anywhere and everywhere. Consequently, stealth was a difficult proposition, in a world where almost anything could be seen. So she learned to repel down the buildings, swing between the bridges, hang from the pylons – anywhere that the ordinary person would be least likely to look. Even now, people inside the building she repelled down laughed and ate, fought and sexed, all without even thinking to look outside. Her gaze was caught by the raindrops, and was surprised to find she was falling almost as fast, making the pearls of water appear to be in a kind of stasis. The ground rushed to meet her, eager to embrace her, but with a flick of her wrist she denied its call. Her micro-thrusters engaged, and she slowed her fall to make her body feel it was just a long jump. She landed hard on her muscular legs and quickly switched on her face-scrambler. In moments she was in the crowd just around the corner, walking home again after another successful kill.

Why do they want me?

She had been rolling the thought over in her mind all while she waited for her target earlier. It was a boring, grey day, with little to distract her mind. She had all but decided to refuse their offer, until today, until her long hours in the rain, waiting.

I feel like I've been waiting all my life.

She stepped slightly to one side, making a few men beside her curse her under their breaths.

You'll be sorry . . .

Suddenly a groan could be heard overhead as a trans slipped off its energy-rail. It brought a wide shadow to where she walked, and its bulk arced down, impacting the ground with terrible force, narrowly missing her head. A few others near her, not quick enough, were slammed by the metal, crushed in an instant beneath the machine's bulk. She heard the screams, saw the blood, but it just didn't matter to her.

I told you you'd be sorry.

She moved on, thinking on the Wudcina's words. Rolling them over in her mind, trying to sink her teeth into them, and digest their meaning. She wasn't the brightest of people; not one to fathom great depths in a profound statement, not one to understand science-speak. She was a creature of the government; a hired assassin, who knew how to wait, how to kill, and how to escape.

_And I've been escaping all my life. Why do I feel like now, I've been marked for death? That stuff about Holis must've gotten in my head._ She stopped and sat on a bench, as the rain let up for a while. The sun was trying to make is presence known again, trying to force its way through the toxic clouds. _Holis killed them._ She rolled it over in her mind. _They had the power, yet Holis killed them._

"Another close call, eh?"

She nodded to the fat man across the bar who spat those words, as more of the foul liquid oozed down her throat, numbing her pain, dulling her senses. The counter before her felt like the rail she propped her gun up on earlier, and she again felt like she was waiting. She squirmed in her Duprene suit, wishing she could've stopped by the PersonaWash to get out some of the filth she had acquired on her last three missions. _Never cared about this before – must be that damned Science Institute with those perfectly clean, perfectly fat fools_.

"You know, we keep on having more and more accidents. Those damn trans," groaned the fat man, as he waddled back behind a tall cabinet filled with half-washed glasses and bowls, "are nothin' but death traps. Should've been outlawed a long time ago!" He came back out with a hot plate filled greenish noodles that swaddled a few morsels of meat. He dropped it in front of her, sloshing the noodles almost over the edge.

"Hey! I'm paying for that."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, holding up his hand with a smile. "Sometimes I forget my actual paying customers." He nodded down to a few men dressed in little more than rags, looking bitter and mean, hunched low over similar plates of noodles and meat. "Gotta make my damn quota."

"Stop your damn whining." She shoveled the noodles into her mouth, actually hungry for the first time in a while. She was used to skipping meals, but eventually her appetite caught up with her. She actually liked it that way, as the food always tasted better when she was ravenously hungry. "Who's got it good? At least you're fat. You've had your fun. I've never seen so many skinny people. I mean noodles—noodles!" She flung them back onto the plate, sighing with disgust. "Who'se gonna get fat offa this? I can't even eat more than a plate of this, and I'm damned hungry."

"You'd be shot if you did," he said flatly.

"What, they lowered the max again?"

"Yup. One day, one plate. No more, under penalty of death."

"Damn." She shook her head, cursing the world under her breath. "Sometimes, I could actually eat that second plate."

The fat man leaned in. "I always gave it to you before, and I always will. Those regs went into effect a year ago."

She looked at him, startled and surprised.

"Why?" he asked, in response to her expression. He wiped the counter down with a rag with more holes than cloth, smiling to himself. "Maybe 'cause I know you need it. I know you lead a life that gets little to no 'thank yous.' I know that one day, maybe when someone else needs just a little bit of . . . something, that you might give it to them, and know it was the right thing to do."

She finished her plate, and after thanking him for the first time in a long time, stepped outside, and just walked the streets. She meandered aimlessly through the tired masses that reeked of too few showers, along streets and sidewalks churned up yet never repaired, under lights that were usually burned out or barely lit. The air stank, it was hot, and it was the first time she actually realized it.

And I could change it all. Me.

She stood at the top of a small bridge that arced over a thin creek filled with stagnant brown water. Below her, she could see a few huddled groups bathing in the putrid mess, while a couple of lone souls stood guard, watching for CRODAM patrols. Further down, in the shadows, she could see a few women being dragged down by laughing hands, their bodies a feast for the strong men's lust. She had seen it a hundred times before, once even was almost dragged down there herself, yet only now, did she see it could be different.

_What would it be like?_ she thought, as she moved away, looking up at the stars. _Where would they send me that this would all change?_

She got on her motobike and rode, long into the night, the fetid air becoming cooler and lighter the faster she went. The darkness was as a blanket that soothed her mind. She drove with the throttle fully open, hugging the roads while burning the streets. With every yellow light she saw in the distance, she responded with a burst of speed. Out into the country she flew, away from the press of metal and stone, away from the good and evil, the sin and vice. She drove to where there was neutrality; a blend of the ground and the stars into a grey blur, with only a few deserted hovels to remind her of civilization. She rode without lights, only guided by dim starlight. She slammed on the brakes hard, coming to a division, with one sign pointing one way, one pointing another. She sat before them, listening to the engine throb erratically between her thighs, beating in sympathy to her own heart.

_No omen to sway me, one way or the other?_ She looked up into the sky, waiting for an answer. _I know how to cheat my fate, but I don't know how to build my future._ She gunned the engine, and sped down the path she had chosen, still in the dark.

The next day, she reluctantly sat in the chair back in the Science Foundation, struggling to pay attention to what Wudcina said. She yearned for a drink, a smoke, and the handle of her gun. The antiseptic clean of the offices irritated her even more. _Everyone outside wallows in dirt and grime, struggling to clean their clothes once a month, yet in here I feel like the dirtiest person ever created_. She had become even more self-conscious about her clothes on this second visit, cursing herself for skipping the trip to the PersonaWash that morning. _Ah well. I'm sure they'll give me new clothes._

"Are you listening?"

She shrugged reluctantly, straightening up. "Yeah, I actually am."

Wudcina started in his chair, as a slight grin crossed his face. "You're starting to believe, aren't you?"

"Just tell me," asked Agilia, haltingly, "how am I going to change all this? Who do I hafta kill?"

"First, tell _me_ something. I've done a lot of scientific study, but I rarely have the opportunity these days to study people, and you're quite a specimen. In fact, it's hard for me to believe you're an assassin, someone who can kill without doubt, without regret. All our other candidates were . . . less aggressive, one being a CRODAM officer, another, one of my colleagues. When did you start killing? Was there some time, some incident that told you who you would become?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Why wouldn't you? I am about to bend the laws of physics for you and this entire world. I can help you do something that almost no one else in all of creation has done. I have _power_ , woman," he said emphatically, the man within him surging to the fore, "and I am giving it to _you_. The least you could do is be grateful for it."

She smiled wryly. "You sure you're just a scientist?"

"I've been here a long time, but I haven't always been here, haven't always done this."

Agilia sat back looking at this man, wondering why she was about to tell him something she never told anyone else in her life. She could see the gaze of command in his eyes, could see that at one point in his life, he probably made people talk using much more controversial methods.

"I don't know. I guess it was one time I went out with my girlfriend, Danici. Danici was one of the wildest, craziest girls I'd ever met." She leaned forward, her hands clasped together, as she thought on a past she preferred buried and forgotten. She absently picked at some dried stain on her leggings, and then pressed on. "Well, we were walking home after a party – she had a big glass bottle of liquor, and this guy just runs by her, knocking her almost over. He stops and yells 'stupid bitch' and she, with this _amazingly_ quick motion, wails up and smashes him on the head with the bottle. It went clean through his skull, dropping him dead to the ground, and she just starts laughing and laughing. I start laughing too, and I go over and put my boot into the hole in his head. It all of a sudden becomes so damned funny, that here this guy thought he was so big and tough, and now the two of us are laughing, standing over his bloody head."

Wudcina nodded somberly. "And that was when it began? You never bullied other girls, or killed little animals as a child?"

"I'm not some damned sociopath! I know the difference between right and wrong. At least, I knew . . ."

He nodded. "Thank you for indulging me. I'm sorry if I got too personal."

"No, no." She took a deep breath. "I think I've needed to tell someone that, at least, before I die. Because that _is_ what will happen on this mission, isn't it?"

"The chances of success are quite low. But I'm sure that's how it is for you on any mission."

"Yeah, but I know I'm not gonna die on any of those."

He smiled. "Do you know why the world is as you see it? Did you ever hear of the disaster at Hulce?"

"No. I don't have much use for history."

"Suffice it to say, that all our hopes died that day. It was a day that we would have conquered the stars. OLMAC, the company that manufactures our food, actually created an extrasolar vehicle."

"A what?"

He couldn't hide his disappointment at her ignorance, and cursed under his breath. "It was going to go around the _planets_. But before it could launch, a terrorist group destroyed it. Not only did it destroy the ship, it killed Mechle Rulsi, the owner of OLMAC at that time, who happened to be the ship's pilot. All of that started a ripple that ended in a few wars, a couple of atrocities, and the world not wanting to take any more chances. OLMAC never tried to go into space again, and all of us stayed put on this spinning rock. I won't bore you with the sociological stuff. All you need to know is that ship _must_ launch."

Agilia nodded slowly, for the first time feeling as if she belonged, as if she understood why she was here. After all, it was just another mission, just in a different time. _How I get there isn't important._ "How did you know I was the right one?"

"You never got caught! All those missions, all those people you killed, and you never got _caught_?" he remarked, shaking his head. "That told us you might be someone special. Then we gave you a test, a test that proved just what you are. You see, the universe sits on a brane, like your body lies on a sheet. Your foot is like a star, and the bigger it is, the bigger the impression on the sheet. Well, creation is made up of thousands of these branes, all sandwiched together. People like me, we make an infinitesimally small impression on that sheet. People like you, well, somehow you don't. You can travel from one sheet to another, one brane to another. Your body, your essence, seems to conduct the energy in a way we still don't understand. That's how people like you are able to change events in time. For people like you, the energy acts differently. Your mind knows ways around it, like you know how to make your own destiny. I know you don't understand all of what I've said—I've had to leave out a lot of the science-speak just to tell you this much. But, maybe you'll remember, and eventually understand."

"Still, how did you know about me?" pressed Agilia. "I work for a discreet employer, keep my image and name out of the media. How did you know about me?"

"Agilia, once I was in the business of stewarding rogues like you. Men and women who thought the world of themselves, and in truth, they earned every bit of their self-adulation. So I know what types of people become assassins, and how long they tend to last. You've always had my eye, even though you didn't know it. I have many contacts from those old days, and month after month, year after year, your name kept being circulated. When our two agents failed, for some reason your name clicked. And when I finally took a good, long look at your record, I understood why. Something has kept you alive this long – I'm hoping it'll keep you alive a little while longer."

She spent the night with a man she knew—another assassin like her. Once in a while he would call her, or she him, just before a mission that might mean death or permanent capture. He was very good at what he did, under the sheets, and she rewarded him with an equally impressive performance. They seldom spoke, but afterwards, as they drifted in and out of sleep, he spoke, to her surprise.

"I'm gettin' outta this."

His words were more like a guttural mumble in low bass tones. She glanced over at him, and found his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Why?"

He turned over, and pulled the sheet over his shoulder. "This isn't life."

Why do I think of Holis at a time like this?

She stood outside a building that she had traced to the terrorists. It wasn't a long trip, back into the past. She spent two weeks in training, going over the weapons she would take back and getting a rudimentary history lesson on the planet at the time, with five Science Foundation minions taking every sample from her body she could imagine. Finally, after those two weeks Wudcina helped her into a small, silver orb, and wished her a good trip. The orb seemed to dissolve into space for a few moments, and when it coalesced, the planet Novan was nowhere to be found, leaving her alone in the blackness of the void. The actual time spent on the journey was traveling to where Novan was located in the past. In that sense she was thankful, for though she didn't understand the physics behind time travel, Agilia knew it had been done seldom before, and if something went wrong, she could die in a way no one had ever thought of before.

Not in all that time—from when she sat down in the craft, to when it dissolved, to the long four months in isolation journeying to the past Novan—did she once think of Holis. Death was meaningless to her, for she had faced it too many times to count in too many different ways. But what's more, she could feel that she wasn't in mortal peril. On every mission she ever went on, from her first to her most recent, she could feel if she shouldn't step this way or that. It wasn't a physical reaction—no hair stood up on her neck or nausea in her gut, but it was more like a dimming of her thoughts, a weight that would settle on her consciousness. And not until now, with her goal almost achieved, did she feel that weight settle on her soul.

She was in the wrong time, though. She diligently checked the date when she arrived – she was always very good about detail in any mission – and found the craft had taken her thirty years too far in the past. The OLMAC ship she was supposed to save was still not yet built, but the terrorists already were making their plans. She found the group, and assumed the plan would still work, no matter how far back they were killed. She stood in front of a squat, dirty brick-and-steel building with a small handgun in one hand and a mini-nuke slung over her shoulder. All she had to do was turn the handle of the door, walk in, and destroy them all. But her hand wouldn't move.

All I need to do is turn the handle.

She reached up, but it stopped a few inches from the handle. She could almost feel the metal's coolness, and yet, could not touch it.

_What'd he say? 'The energy to change such a massive event would be like . . .' what was it? 'Would be like the energy needed to create not only all the stars in our galaxy, but all the stars in ten galaxies like ours.'_ She stood there, her arms at her sides, now unable to even lift them.

_Why did Holis let all this come to pass? If there is a Holis, why did she let us end up like we are—miserable, hungry, smelly, and hateful?_ She thought back for a moment. _That's really what it is. We all hate so much. We hate ourselves, hate each other, hate the place we live and the things we do._ She turned around, and walked away.

I need a drink.

Agilia sat in a bar, familiar yet different, trying to forget about how easy it was to drown. There was a thin man serving the drinks, and it just didn't seem right to her. Couples sat in polished booths, sharing bread while waiters and waitresses brought platters full of steaming, succulent food.

"You had enough?" he grumbled angrily, with a bitterness familiar to her.

"What's it to ya?"

He brusquely wiped down the counter with a white cloth, taking a moment to polish the handles of the taps. "I don't know you. You gotta pay before you get anymore." He paused for a moment, regarding her suspiciously. "Besides, you don't look like you belong here. I've got nice people in here – and I wanna keep it that way."

She took out the few old credits she was supplied with and slapped them on the table. The thin man snatched, then fingered through them, looking back at her now and then. She slumped on the table, her arm sprawled out along its length.

Never thought of myself as a coward. I guess we always learn something new about ourselves.

She looked down along her arm, to the small bump near her wrist on her arm.

_Maybe I need to press it now, bring back the ship, and just go home_. She took the last bit of drink left in her glass, holding it up, to see if anymore would come out. _Ah well, enough of this._

She staggered out, and back onto the streets of the ancient city of Ithmarin. She was constantly surprised at how bright everything was—the lights above her, the shine on the buildings themselves. The oppressive closeness of her time was gone, replaced a spacious euphoria. There was an ebullience in the eyes of everyone she passed; a fierce affirmation of the opportunity for a good life they all had been given. While the bartender might not have reflected it, she could see it nonetheless in every face that passed her, especially in the little children that danced through the streets like death was but a distant lie. She breathed in deeply, and could taste the sweet moisture on her lips.

_So this is what it was like. It'll be a shame to see it all go away. After all, what do I owe to them?_ She thought of her hard life, filled with violence and pain _. Why should I do them any favors?_

She passed by a café, and saw dozens of couples sitting, drinking, and eating. They laughed, and leisurely picked at their food, food that beckoned to her appetite. _Sure ain't noodles here_. Then it hit her, how many times the fat man did what he could for her. _He don't even know how many I killed, what I've done, yet, he was always good to me._ It was then, that the memory of her intermittent lover came back. _"This isn't life," he said. That's all he said. He didn't need to say anymore. Every single day I think the same thing—I just never admit it to myself. I'm just happy that I'll never die from some random accident or eat contaminated protein mush. But even though I live, I'm not alive. None of us are, back then._ Agilia looked down at her hands, the hands of an assassin, missing their favorite gun. _Is this what I've really been feeling? I can't live, making others die. I can't kill to stay alive. One life for one life is fair trade, but I've killed hundreds for this one life. And it's time I gave something back_. She turned, and ran back towards the building, slinging the mini-nuke back over her shoulder and readying her pistol with a new determination in her eyes. On the way, as she ran across a crowded street, a small car hit her, and blackness consumed her mind.

Chapter 2

"Michael, how's that study coming?"

He was lagging behind Elaine as she turned briskly around another corner. His pants always hung almost under his shoes, and it was a constant struggle for him to move with any efficiency. He was the epitome of the effete male; thin, with stringy hair perpetually obstructing his pale forehead, blessed with neither a strong voice nor bold convictions. His actions were governed by the whim of the moment, and usually it was the wrong whim.

"Uhh . . . it's almost done, Lainey. We've got two more prisoners to interview, then I can tally the results."

"How does it look so far?"

Michael flipped through the pages as he walked, stumbling over a small box someone seemed to purposefully leave in his path. The class buffoon of the prison, everyone loved to ridicule and push him around, mostly because he took it well. The middle son of a tight family, he was used to always being the negative center of attention.

"It seems like, well . . . there's some progress being made."

He looked over at her with yearning eyes, reminding her of someone's favorite pet. She had begun to notice he was smitten with her, yet at the same time, was jealous of her and her position. Often she wanted to violently shake him back and forth, shout into his mind to get him to wake up. But she always just shook her head and took the lead, as one learns quickly in a prison not to get too emotionally involved with its inmates, whether they be voluntary ones or involuntary.

"So, we're reaching a few of them?" she asked, pausing in the middle of the corridor. Around her were the counseling offices—a few were even in session, with dim shadows moving back and forth behind thick panes of frosted glass. Her office was just down the hall, off to the right, a little too close to the main hallway the inmates went through for meals, yet far enough from the other counselors to give her a little privacy.

"Yeah, it seems like the music's working out better than we thought." Lately they piped in instrumental versions of religious chants just before, during, and after counseling sessions. "Even James seems to have calmed down."

She let the tension flow out of her, if only for a moment. "That's always good to hear. I'll be damned if he's gonna get me like he did before."'

Michael smirked, thinking on the incident. He remembered getting the call that she might not make it, and for a brief moment he was happy, thinking he might finally have her title. Then disappointment, as word came that she was alright.

"Mornin' Lainey!" bellowed a heavy-set man who came around the corner before them.

"Morning Isaac!"

The assistant warden of the prison, Isaac wore a dingy, grey uniform with three gold circles embroidered onto the lapel of his shirt – a faint imitation of the current military stock. His hair was stringy and matted against his scalp, as if he used grease to slick it back. Small, beady brown eyes peeked out from narrow slits, just above a beak-like nose. A long black stick hung low at his side, just under a few grease and jelly stains. The first time Elaine saw him, she thought he was the janitor, not the second-in-command.

"You two had breakfast yet?"

"Nah, too much work to do."

"Well, ya better hurry up!" He reached in his deep side pocket, and brought out a flakey and fluffy pastry wrapped in a white napkin. "They got those tasty claws again." He took a big bite out, curdles of white ooze spilling down his face, licking his lips as he chewed. "Mmm! These are _so_ damn _good_."

"What's that, your third?" sneered Michael, backing a little away, like a jackal yipping at a lion. Isaac smiled, swallowing what was in his mouth. He wiped his face with his sleeve, slowly, glaring at Michael with small, glistening brown eyes.

"You know, for a little shit, you've got some balls sometimes," he said low and soft, the menace creeping into his voice. He shoved what was left of the pastry back into his pocket. "I hope you still got 'em after your session today. You never know _what_ could happen in those rooms; just you and a man who might've eaten his whole damned family. Sure would be a shame," he mused, walking past them, shaking his head in mock remorse. "Sure would be a shame . . ."

"Why do you piss him off?!" Elaine hissed, pulling Michael close by the lapels of his white labcoat. "You had too many stims today? I don't like him either, but they're the ones that stand between _us_ and _them_. And that's what I've learned, in these short months. It's _us_ , and _them_."

Suddenly, they heard a scream from a nearby room.

"Dammit, no! Get away, _get away_!" yelled a male voice, familiar to them both.

"Wasn't that Oliver?"

"Damn," grumbled Elaine, as she moved cautiously to a nearby door. Even though he might be in trouble, she hated the thought of being near him. "I think it was."

The sounds of tables being overturned and glass shattering could be heard from the room.

"Where are the guards? Isaac! Isaac!"

Elaine scanned the hallways, listening out for anyone approaching. They may all have worn soft-soled canvas shoes, but she had good ears that could hear someone breathing fifteen meters away. "Maybe he hasn't had time to press his panic button. Press yours."

Michael fumbled into his pocket, and pressed on a small metallic device, holding down the button as if it was some magic talisman that would instantly summon forth a protector. When no one came, he slowly slipped it back and turned to Elaine. "What should we do? Where'd Isaac go?"

Elaine tried to see through the frosted glass of the room, but could only make out quick moving blurs. Terror gripped her gut, and she broke out in a nervous sweat that stained her clothes.

"Isaac's the assistant warden – he doesn't wanna get his hands dirty. Besides, you had to go piss in his face." She sighed, and then straightened herself up. "We're going to have to go in."

Michael stepped back, cringing into his skin. "But—"

"Dammit, he could be _dying_ in there! _Come on_."

She flung open the door, and it took a moment for her to register what she saw. Oliver's office was in a shambles, with his desk flipped over, the six chairs used for group therapy thrown about. In a corner they struggled, Oliver with his head pressed against the wall, straining with all his might against a large, strong inmate who used one of his massive arms to keep it there.

"Come on, John, move away _slowly_ ," said Elaine, in firm, even tones. "He's _not_ your enemy—he's your friend."

John whirled to face her with panic in his eyes. "No . . . no— _no_!" He pressed harder into Oliver's neck, bringing gurgling sounds from him. Oliver had pale, white skin, and it was now a deep blue around his neck and face from bruising and lack of air. "He shouldn't have told me, he shouldn't have said—"

Suddenly Michael leapt forward, brandishing a chair, in an uncharacteristic display of bravado. John moved with lightning reflexes as the chair came down, sidestepping in a flash, as it impacted on Oliver's head. Oliver fell back unconscious, blood spilling from a wide gash on his forehead, as John kicked up into Michael, sending him flying in the air. One of his feet caught on a bank of overhead fluorescents, and it all came down crashing on him as he fell into a bookcase. John glanced over at Oliver, who lay back unconscious in a corner.

"Damn shame," he said, as he scanned the room. "Gotta be something . . . gotta be something . . ."

His eyes found it—a walking cane stashed in a far corner. Elaine cursed Oliver under her breath, as anything that could be used as a weapon was forbidden from being brought into the building. But she knew Oliver protested mightily to Todd, the warden, as he always did, and got his way, as he always did, having the cane smuggled in with food supplies. John charged, and Elaine found herself leaping to get there first. She just made it, and gripped the cane with all her might as she felt the massive bulk of John surround her.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Lainey! I like you, but you gotta give it up."

He smelled like urine and excrement, with a shirt wet with perspiration and blood. While she had known him for quite a while, in the prison, she always knew he would be the most trouble in a physical altercation, so she tried mightily not to be caught alone with him, and certainly not to aggravate him. And yet, something in her knew this day would come.

"No, John, _no_!" she pleaded, trying to reach beyond the rage, to the man underneath. "You don't want to do this. You need to calm down, and—"

"Give it up, Lainey!" he bellowed.

She could feel his breath on her neck, could sense the bulges on his arms and chest. Often she had seen him working out, lifting more weight than other prisoners would dare. He was by far the strongest, yet usually the most gentle. So long as everyone played into his delusions.

"Are you the hero now, John?" she demanded frantically. "Who're you gonna save?! I know it's against your code to hurt an innocent—someone who only does good by you."

"Lainey!" bellowed John, half in anger, half in petulance.

"Come on!" pressed Elaine, as she felt herself gain control over her emotions, felt the rational side of her mind kick in. She had been through the countless hours of situation simulation like the other counselors, knew that the best weapon against chaos was a controlled, calm mind. "Or have you fallen? Are you finally going to use your power for evil, and not good? This is a symbol I have in my hands, John." She shook it before him, the confidence returning to her eyes. "This is a symbol of your fall, of your failure, of your submission to what's wrong and evil and bad! Are you bad, John?"

She waited, listening to his heavy breathing, the creak of his bones as he shifted his legs and clenched his fists. With a focused mind, she willed her voice to be even and sure, demanding with finality; "are you?!"

"No, I'm not bad," he answered weakly, like air wheezing out from an under-inflated balloon. All the tension was gone within him, and his arms sagged next to his barrel-chest.

"No, you're not, are you?" she demanded, her voice growing stronger. "You like to save people, to help them, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"You were tricked into being imprisoned here, weren't you?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, I was!"

"Now how are you going to ever get out, if you keep being tricked by your enemies?"

He backed away, and stood, looming over her. He was over six feet tall, with shoulders seemingly as wide as he was tall. Life in confinement had given him a small gut, but his arms were still like chiseled granite, appearing as perfection even under the blue jumpsuit he was forced to wear. She remained crouched on the floor before him, trying not to make any sudden moves.

His angry face soon broke like storm clouds giving way to sun, revealing a triumphant grin. "You're right, Lainey! They almost tricked me. But you're here, helping me! And—"

She heard the crack of a baton, and John collapsed before her, his thick bones rattling on the marble floor. She still sat there, crouched, her hands gripping the cane with all her might. Two men laughed, coming to stand over John's inert body with smiles of smug malice.

"Look at her, Colin!" jeered a lankey, grimy guard with pockmarks on his face and long scars on his arms. Called Blake, he was the worst of the guards to her, the last person she would ever call on if she ran into trouble, as she could never be sure he would help her. "All those docs seem so smart and tough when they're in control, but not now!" He knelt before her, and spoke to her as if she was his pet cat; "now what're you gonna do with that little thing 'gainst Mr. Big Man?"

Elaine pulled herself together, and forced herself to stand up. "Are Michael and Oliver alright, Blake?"

Two of the overhead fluorescents were broken, and Blake had to squint in the darkness to scan the room. "Damn, didn't even see 'em! Wow, Big Man's been busy. Three docs down. Such a shame. Come on, Colin; let's get to cleanin' this mess up."

"Do we hafta?" whined Colin, whose matted mop of black hair kept falling over black, thin eyes which always darted to and fro. He still held his baton out, and looked as if he'd like to give John a few more blows.

"Yeah dammit. Call over Philip, and have him bring a restraint for Big Man here." He knelt down and turned over Michael, who was still unconscious. His hair was caked with blood, and his shoulder seemed to be twisted at an odd angle. "Oohh . . . someone got him good! Looks like you're gonna have a heavy load for a while, Lainey."

She pulled back her clothes to something approaching neatness. "I suppose I will." She forced her voice to remain even and controlled – at least as controlled as she could muster. She hated appearing weak in their eyes, hated losing any respect to the likes of them. "Thank you two for coming."

As she walked out the door, Blake made a low bow.

"Why, no problem, my sweet thang! That's what we do, protect and serve. When the pretty little docs need our help, why, we come 'a runnin'!" He grabbed hold of her arm, just as she almost got out. Elaine cursed to herself, knowing this moment would come.

"You just never forget who we are, and what we do," he whispered in a harsh drawl, spittle spraying her cheek. "Without us, Big Man would've done things to you, and you know it. You go around here, spoutin' off 'bout how they're all souman beings, and how they're entitled to some dignity. But you know they're not here because of how nice they were. For every one o' them, there's a couple o' hundred of their victims' kin that would love to see each of 'em strung up and burned alive, for what they did." He came close to her and whispered low. "Why, I'll bet a lot of 'em probably hate what you do, makin' it nice for them, in here. I'll bet they'd even like to do the same to you."

Elaine kept her gaze focused forward, not wanting to engage him.

"Done?"

He slowly let go of her arm. "Guess so. You just never forget what I say."

She walked slowly and deliberately, trying not to break into a run. The room behind her exploded in laughter, and all she could do was grit her teeth.

Why am I here? Why am I here?
Chapter 3

Elaine had been in the prison for what she thought was five months, appointed as the new assistant director of mental rehabilitation. She couldn't remember what she did before—who her mother or father was, where she lived, even what she did for a living before she became a counselor—but then again, no one could, save the warden and a few other lucky ones. There was mental tech all around them, put in place to keep the prisoners calm and to suppress the doctors' memories. They were told it was absolutely essential and vital, a safeguard so no prisoner could reach out to one of their relatives outside. It also helped to alleviate the feeling of total isolation, as the doctors were not permitted to leave the facility for any reason. A couple of the doctors postulated to Elaine that it might be just as easy to suppress any memories of what went on inside the prison once they left as well.

The prison was a tight place, all steel and stone, white and grey with bridges of plastic glass. A smell hung over the entire facility, no matter how well it was cleaned, that reeked of urine and sweat. Three hundred prisoners were housed in the facility, with two medics to service them, eight guards to watch them, and five counselors to help them. The decision to put counselors in the facility was a subject of much heated debate between the guards and the counselors. Though the counselors knew this particular prison was home to only the foulest, most despicable and depraved of criminal, they also felt that even those forsaken souls needed some reminder of their soumanity, some connection to a world other than one filled with steel and stone. The guards would just laugh and remind them of the reward each of them would receive for a successful tenure—living quarters of their choice provided gratis, and a plum posting in the government health administration system.

Euals rounded out the prison population—a brand name of mechanical servant created by the OLMAC Corporation. Fifty of them sat in hibernation, ready to be called on in a moment's notice, while another ten made routine patrols and still another fifteen assisted with various menial tasks like laundry, food preparation and dispensation, sanitation duties and housekeeping. Their omnipresence made them appear to be an aspect of the building itself—one would sooner expect not to see a eual, as not to see the ceiling or the floor. Elaine had never seen those in hibernation, but rumor had it that these were equipped with heavy weaponry and a very efficient pacification program.

Few that worked in the prison—guards included—had any spacial sense of what the structure looked like from above. The only map was in the warden's office, carefully locked in his computer under multiple firewalls. What could be seen was that it was made up of five levels in an apparent pentagon configuration. Solitary confinement was on the uppermost, while the fourth and third levels were for the cells themselves. The second level had most of the officers of the counselors, as well as meeting rooms for the administration. The lowest level had a medical bay and counselor suites on one side of a pentagon, the doctors' suites on another, the cafeteria and kitchen on the third, maintenance on the fourth, and finally the main exit on the last side, which also led out to a small yard the prisoners had their recreation time in.

The center of that lower pentagon was called the 'Hub,' a common area that could be called the heart of the structure. The main skylights shone down on it, and it was where counseling sessions were held when there was a state of lockdown. Elaine sat there now with three prisoners, trying to get things back to normal after the lockdown that was now in its third day. Michael and Oliver had only just been released from the medical ward, both having a few more bruises to prove where they were and what they were doing.

Three guards hovered around the perimeter of the Hub, pacing slowly back and forth, watching her group and two others. No closed door meetings were allowed for the time being between the doctors and the prisoners, unless the prisoner was sedated. Elaine had heard muffled cries during the night after John's attack, as the guards reinforced their authority on the entire population. The three prisoners in front of her—each one an amazing physical specimen—still had bruises on their faces, black and blue welts on their arms. Elaine was told of a time when the guards would hide their damage, but that time was long gone. The guards patrolled with tightly drawn lips and fists clenched around their batons. They hovered over the prisoners, aching for one to slip the slightest. Blake stood a few tables over from her group, with his arms folded over his chest and his baton resting on his shoulder. Elaine managed a wide smile.

"So, what would we like to talk about today?"

All three of the inmates before her shrugged, looking everywhere but at her. She always saw this after a period of increased discipline, as those prisoners who made direct eye contact were punished the hardest.

It's gonna be another couple of weeks before they look at me again.

"How about we draw some pictures?"

She gave them each a sheet of beige newsprint and a soft piece of charcoal. It was a messy ordeal, but pencils were absolutely forbidden. She watched as all three absently moved the charcoal back and forth, making wide black swaths on the paper.

"Hey, Richard, don't you want to draw something?" she asked gently. "You always have something to share."

He looked up at her with his wrinkled eyes that always bespoke of some hidden intelligence to her. One of the older prisoners, she had been unable to find out exactly what Richard's crime was. Of course, she knew very little of what any of them had done. John was usually in her group, but was still in solitary confinement. Next to Richard sat Frank, one of the inmates Elaine could very easily see returning to society. He always carried himself with a degree of dignity, never getting involved in fights or shouting matches, always lending a hand if she called on it. Xiu and Ronald rounded out the group, two typical inmates that always regarded everything with suspicious eyes, seeking a way to take advantage of any situation. Twice she caught Ronald eyeing her supply locker, and though she may have hated Blake, at least he always made Ronald pay for the thought. But Richard was by far the most interesting in her group. Often she would come in with a lesson plan geared to uncover more of his self, but he would always not only thwart her efforts, but usually leave her wondering about her own self.

"I draw, what I feel," said Richard in a soft voice.

"And all you feel is a big messy sheet of charcoal?" she asked gently.

"What I feel," he said, as he finished blacking in the entire sheet, "is the night. I feel I am in a night without stars, without light. I see nothing, hear nothing. I don't know when the night began, and I don't know when it will end." He continued smearing the charcoal off the sides of the paper. "The night is all around me, in everything and everyone."

Elaine forced herself not to succumb to pity, not to let her compassion overwhelm her logic.

"Even in me, Richard?"

He looked up, at her, in her eyes. He rest with his gaze on her, until Blake suddenly hit him hard in the shoulder with the end of his baton.

"You know better, _Dick_." His voice was a growl tinged with laughter. Richard smiled sideways, as he shifted his attention back to the paper.

"You're stuck there too, Elaine." Richard was the only prisoner to call her by her proper name. "The night swallowed you too, and I don't know if you'll make it out."

Richard always disturbed her, no matter how much emotional distance she kept from him. He had a way of saying nothing, yet everything. She sat back, and collected the other's drawings, and tried her best to ignore him for the rest of their session.

The guards prowled like feral animals, stalking prey with a hunger for flesh and blood. They hunted through the halls, taunting any who crossed their paths, whether they be doctor, counselor, or prisoner. The prisoners were merely the weakest, those whose spirits were broken; whose bodies could be the most easily abused. Even when the guards relaxed, they usually had their hand on their baton, as if it confirmed their status as a man. Their uniforms were always sloppy, their faces never shaved and clean. The only badge they were given often fell off when they bent down to pick a soda out of the machine, or retrieve some fallen candy bar. But the baton, the long, black baton, with a leather handle and long, wooden blade, was the only symbol they treated with respect. Elaine saw them religiously polish its stained surface before and after their shift. Their badges they'd fling around the cafeteria like Frisbees; their belts would be used to lasso a cold beer in their common room. But the baton was never twirled, never used as a plaything to tease. It was an instrument of pain and joy, a key that opened up their souls to feed in the light. When they wielded its weight, logic could be suspended, compassion forgotten. Their animal instincts could take over, given free rein to maim and kill. A few of the batons had been used to kill, and they were always retired, and burned. Except for the metal core; that was always taken and cherished as a prized possession, like the skull of a fallen foe.

The guards sensed weakness, and preyed on it maliciously. Elaine could feel their eyes on her, knew the hushed whispers just out of her earshot were about her. She walked the halls, and felt more vulnerable than she ever had before. The guards were the only thing standing between her and the hands of the prisoners, and somehow, they needed to have their attention diverted.

After her group, she went to see Todd, the warden, one of the few there who she somewhat respected. As she walked into his office, she couldn't help but glance around, always amazed by the spectacle. Books crammed every bit of space on each wall, rising and falling in great, dusty waves. The frosted window seemed to be in a state of assault, as the books overflowed even its bounds. The titles were each and any that could remotely be called a classic. Todd wasn't a man for anything modern, anything faintly ethnic. Only the old and difficult to read, whether it be poetry or prose. He had plays, sonnets, novels and novellas, short story anthologies, epic poems, histories, essays, criticisms, religious works and philosophies all jostling for attention, praise, and most of all, space.

The excess of his books was reflected in his own corpulence. He overflowed in the seat he was in, showing his equal appreciation for anything cooked, baked, fried, sautéed, grilled or roasted. Somewhere on his desk at any one time lay the carcass of no less than three meals. He smiled as he watched Elaine look over his books, wishing she would show the same interest in his own body. He was aware of its repulsion, in fact, that was part of what made him continuously aroused, was the looks of the thin and fit.

"Well, Lainey, what brings you to my den?"

"Todd," she said, carefully moving some smaller tomes off a small chair, and cautiously taking a seat, "how long is the lockdown going to last?"

"Well," he gurgled, shifting in a chair that sounded as if it desperately wanted to die, "we need to make sure our guests know their place." He picked at his teeth with the long nail on his index finger, one specially grown for just that purpose. Nothing nauseated her as much as seeing that. "I mean, Big Man seriously injured two of our counselors, and almost hurt you."

"John was just angry to have his world thrown in doubt." She couldn't help but try to plead her case—John always held a special place in her heart. "Oliver knew better—he's just been dying to try to make John accept our reality."

"'Our reality?'"

"You know—John thinks he's a superhero, and that's what keeps him calm. It's only when that delusion is challenged, that he loses control."

"Yes, I remember. And he's too big to be allowed to lose control. After the things that he did . . ."

"What _did_ John _do_? There are some things, some crimes, I'm never told of." She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, unable to hide her frustration. "You have no idea how that would help in the treatment."

"I'm sure it would, but I also know there's a limit to how much a person can dismiss. I tell you prisoner A stole money, most people can dismiss it. I tell you prisoner B beat a homeless man almost to death, and fewer can accept it. I tell you C—"

"Yeah, I know," whined Elaine, "there are some crimes that are too difficult to accept, but—"

"I tell you prisoner F killed three-thousand people and laughed about it while rolling over on their dead bodies," shouted Todd, "and maybe you don't even step in the same room with him _ever again_!"

Elaine sat back, silent.

"Maybe you even take the law into your own hands, and slaughter him like he slaughtered so many. Yes Lainey, a few of them have done things that bad. There was a grey time, after the war, when law hadn't yet recovered. A whole lotta people got away with a whole lotta things. What you're with are by far the worst of 'em. These people are never seeing the light of freedom _ever_ again. I know they'd be better off dead, but our sugar-laced senators can't seem to stomach any sense!" He sat back, picked up a small volume, and ran his finger along the spine as a calm smile settled on his fat face. "So we gotta deal with 'em—somebody's gotta. What was the quote? 'There is a time and place for all things; joy, peace, love, and happiness. There is also a time and place for pain and regret; for atonement, when those who have been forsaken may seek to redeem their fallen souls. We live in a world bordered by things evil and cruel, and as such, forbids us from living a life of innocence.' This is a time, and place, for atonement. Where our forsaken charges struggle to see the error of their ways. Unfortunately, it's not a place for redemption, Lainey. They have come too far past that point."

"I know, I know."

A sincere, soft smile graced his pudgy face. "You're a sweet one, Lainey. I know the guards are a little riled up at you; after all, you actually got John to calm down. You saved yourself, not the other way 'round. So keep yourself quiet, and calm, and in a few days, one of our guests will do something else stupid, and they'll forget all about you."

She nodded, knowing no words would sway him, resigning herself to defeat. "Thanks."

She stood to leave, pulling down her skirt, drawing furtive glances from Todd who peeked carefully over his book.

"Someday, we should have dinner, Lainey. I think we've got a lot in common."

She haltingly nodded. "We just might, Todd."

As she walked out the door, Todd pulled his book closer with one hand, while another hand descended to his nether region to accomplish his foul bidding.

The prison was tense for the next couple of days. Elaine had her groups canceled, as Todd felt the prisoners needed more time. The guards worked to keep the prisoners off-balance; conducting cell searches at random hours during the night, executing full body cavity searches immediately after meals. A couple of prisoners even fought back out of frustration, but the guards raised their glorious batons, and the prisoners fell mute under their sway.

Unfortunately it wasn't enough fun for the guards, as most of the prisoners knew to keep quiet so they could get what little freedom they had back. So they yipped and snarled at the counselors, especially Elaine. Blake seemed to be everywhere Elaine wished he wasn't—outside the bathroom as she was leaving, waiting by her office as she walked in first thing in the morning. Oliver and Michael could only nod their heads in commiseration at the treatment she was receiving. She tried to affect meekness and submission, tried to be uninteresting. But Blake saw through it all, saw that it really bothered her, and kept on pressing, prodding and pushing.

" _You need to learn,"_ he said, as she walked back to her suite earlier that night, _"just who runs this damned pigsty!"_

The sad part was that Elaine shared their boredom, craved some excitement. While the confrontation with John was harrowing for her, it was also exhilarating. Some days she was fine being the model counselor, patiently listening to the problems of adult men. Other days, when she was done, when she came back to her suite and took off her clothes for a shower, when all the trappings of her position, all the symbols of duty were shed, she wanted them to shut up and die, to stop their simpering whining. Whenever she felt like that it made her shudder, and she showered even longer to rid herself of the stench of memory. After she was done, and she stood over her sink, brushing her teeth, the condensation would evaporate off her mirror, revealing, for a moment, an image she didn't understand. It would always be just on the brink of clarity, when the glass was still half-fogged, and half-clear. She would bend down to spit, to gargle and rinse, and in that split second her peripheral vision would see . . . something. It disturbed her to no end, to the point that she had taken to dressing before brushing her teeth, but even then she took no pleasure in her reflection.

Elaine wished she could get out, and travel around for a while, but she and all the other doctors were committed for a full year. The prison only allowed food to be shipped in, and that even arrived in tightly sealed boxes down a very long conveyor belt. Elaine lay back now, in her bed, anxious, trying to get some sleep.

Her room was double the size of a cell, yet still it was tight to her. She had a small, single bed, a short couch, and a modest wooden table on which sat her computer. A single thin, long frosted window lay behind the head of her bed. She tried to soften the harshness of her room by adding a curtain to the window, some lacy runners to the bottom of her bed, even hanging a small print near her lone closet.

She lay on silken sheets, a light blue, with a thin, white trim that ran along the edge. It was never cold in her room, but she still had a thick down comforter bunched on one side of her bed, near the wall. Nothing gave her comfort and solace like laying down on its cloud-like surface, making her forget, for a time, where she was.

A picture from one of the prisoners hung on her wall. While it was forbidden to keep items like that—all the drawings done by the prisoners were immediately destroyed—she managed to steal this one. It depicted a figure in shadow, standing on some ravine, looking down at a city bursting with light and life. The stars hung overhead, and the figure could only just be seen, because the moon hung low in front of it. It was an androgynous figure, and the prisoner who drew it, Matthew, refused to tell her who the figure might be. She was taken with it the first time she saw it, as it seemed to convey a terrible hope, yet a beautiful resignation to fate.

Matthew was one of the few prisoners she allowed herself to get friendly with. An intelligent man, he was always abused more harshly by the guards. She suspected it was because he had an awareness in his eyes. When he looked up at a guard, after being beaten with the baton, there was a pity in his gaze that the guards couldn't tolerate. Matthew looked down on them, even when they beat him the most violently. Many times Blake, the most sadistic of the guards, had to be pulled off of beating Matthew, before he killed him.

Elaine often thought of Matthew as a kindred spirit. Both of them were in their early forties, each with thick, black hair, both fit and lean. Though while Elaine had soft brown eyes, Matthew had fiery blue ones that sat as pearls in his brown face. Once or twice she lingered on his face, thought of having her hand on his rough stubble, feeling his chin resting in her palm. He had a masculinity that surpassed any and all others. In his placid demeanor, she saw a leader, a warrior, a general. She saw a man that could order the worst man to commit the most beautiful act.

She lay now, under the sheets, the anxious tension building in her again. She couldn't remember the last time she had sex, couldn't remember the last time a man held her the way she needed to be held. The only men who brushed up against her were the guards, trying to see if she wanted to have a little fun with them. The prisoners kept themselves at a discrete distance from her, knowing to cross that line would mean certain death for them. But John, those short days ago, was close to her. She thought on his massive body cradling her, his arms embracing her almost as a lover would. Something in her was sparked by that combination of danger and lust, and her hands felt their way down her chest, under the sheets, to the spot where her legs met. It was after she let out her first moan, that she realized she wasn't alone. It was a smell—a familiar smell that stopped her hand. She knew that smell like she knew her own face. It was of urine, and perspiration, fear, and lust. She stopped, paralyzed with fear, not wanting to move, yet searching the room with her eyes.

"Don't stop on my account," whispered a male voice.

She pulled the sheet tight, bolted up, her mind racing with thoughts of where any weapon was in her room. The man shifted forward into the light, doing her the favor of showing his face.

"Frank? What're you doing in here?!" she shouted in a harsh whisper.

"Nothin', oh, just nothin'." He stepped out of the shadow, and took a seat at her small desk. "You know, this reminds me of the time my dad caught me, with my hand where it don't belong. You wanna know what happened?"

Elaine finally calmed her mind, confident she could talk her way out of any situation. She relaxed her arms, and pushed herself to lean against the wall.

"Yeah, tell me what happened."

Frank let his eyes trail along her outline under the sheets, shaking his head back and forth in silent approval. "Ya know, it's dangerous asking one of us what we did. You might find out somethin' that'll keep you up nights."

She shrugged her shoulders, and kept her intense gaze focused on his eyes. "Go on, tell me."

"Well," he said, leaning back a bit, spreading his legs like the alpha male he pretended to be, "it was late at night, and I'd just woken up. I had been out with a few friends, and there were a few girls with 'em. I was sixteen, and hungry. Well, I got all alone with one of 'em, pressed her up against the wall, thing's was goin' good, but she pushed me away, and just wanted to talk. Well, that was when I didn't do everything my mind wanted me to do, so I just took it, and headed home. Well, when I woke up, I was pretty stiff. So there I was, workin' things out, and in my dad stumbled—drunk. See he got the rooms mixed up!" Frank chuckled, and let out a long sigh. "He just stood there, lookin' down at me, and he started to laugh. I mean, loud, hard yuckin'. He fell against a wall, just lookin' at me, and laughin'. See, I'm not all that big, down there, and my dad, well, he was never the supportive type."

"What did you do?" asked Elaine carefully.

"I killed him," answered Frank matter-of-factly. While Frank certainly wasn't as big as John, he kept himself in shape, and something inside Elaine knew that he was good with his arms and hand – that he might even know some skillful fighting moves. She could see him killing a man that was bigger than he, especially if he had the element of surprise. "And I did it in the nude. I had a big knife at the side of my bed, and I slashed at him on his face, right across his mouth. See, that way, he couldn't scream."

"And he couldn't laugh?"

"Yeah," said Frank, realizing it for the first time, "you're right! Newer thought of it like that. He sure couldn't laugh! I think he cried, after I put the knife in his chest, the first time. Imagine that, my first time, was the time I was caught with my hand between my legs, just like you, now."

"Then you better make sure you don't laugh," she said seriously, meeting his dark gaze.

"I do like you, Lainey," he said, chuckling to himself. "That's why I'm here."

"What do you mean?"

"See, the guards want you to be taken down a peg. Really, it's Isaac wants this done. So, he put the word out that he wanted someone to do you. Real hard, real angry. When I heard 'bout it, I volunteered. Don't worry, I ain't gonna touch you. I might like to, but I've learned how to control my impulses."

"Yes, you have." She carefully moved to the edge of the bed, her careful gaze fixed on him. "Do you mind if I put on a few clothes?"

"Go right ahead." He politely turned to face the wall, as Elaine hurriedly put on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

"Thank you, Frank." She sat back on the bed; her legs pressed tightly together, her body tense and ready to fight.

"Don't mention it," he said, turning back around. "Really— _don't_ mention it. To anyone."

She softened, as she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "But why, why are you doing this? Really?"

He leaned forward as it they were having a polite conversation over a cup of coffee. "See, maybe you can't tell, but there's a struggle goin' on. Blake and Isaac have got thing's goin' just the way they want. But Todd, well, he's been peekin' out from those books more than they'd like. He's puttin' pressure on Tannis to make some changes. All I know is if Blake and Isaac win, they'll celebrate by cracking open all of our skulls. Now you docs, you're all nice, peaceful people. I gotta think, that the more people that stand against Blake and Isaac, the better."

Elaine nodded her head. "I understand, and trust me; we will do whatever we can to protect you."

Frank exploded in laugher.

"Oh, Lainey, that's sweet and all, but I don't mean it like that! All we want is for you to look the other way, while we take care of Isaac and Blake." He looked at her incredulously. "You really don't know what most've us've done, do you?"

"No," she answered in a hushed voice. "They don't tell me that."

Frank nodded to himself. "Then maybe it's time someone filled you in."

And for the next two hours, Frank related to her all he knew about twenty inmates who trusted him. What they had done, what they had been convicted of, and what they admitted to him and others about what they had really done. The scope and breadth of their acts was nauseating, from the number of people killed to the length of time they were able to continue offending. For some, Elaine learned they had done substantially more than what the authorities found out. When Frank was done, she wished she had never asked him, and he had never told her.

"It's true," she said absently, her head swimming in disgust and fear. "Once you learn, you can never go back."

"You're right, Lainey. You'll never look at us the same. But it's about time you knew that you're not dealing with a bunch of schoolboys who got caught playin' a prank. It's all serious in here, Lainey, and like it or not, for the next seven months, you're a prisoner in here, too."

She looked at him, for a moment, feeling like she could actually trust him. She wanted to tell him everything, about how she hated being here with each passing day, how she felt she didn't belong, to how sometimes she didn't even recognize the face in the mirror. But she held her tongue, and merely smiled.

"That's probably the smart thing to do." He seemed to read her thoughts, see what was on her face. "I'm the last person you wanna trust. In fact, I don't know a single person in here that you _should_ trust; docs, guards, and wardens included. Well, maybe the euals," he said with a chuckle. "After all, who're they gonna tell?"

Elaine nodded. "A person that tells you not to trust them usually is the one person you _can_ trust."

"Thanks, _Elaine_." He gave her the honor of pronouncing her name carefully and properly.

"So, what will you tell the guards?"

"That I had a good time. That you were too scared to fight back, and you laid there like a stick, and I came all over you. Sound good?"

"Yeah," she said, holding back the tears. "I guess it does."

Frank knelt before her, on one knee.

"Know this, Lainey, I'm yours to command, when the time comes. I don't know why, but I've known since the day I met you, that I would be yours. You have a power over me, one I can't deny."

His words fired something within her, and she felt great joy in the power he gave to her. She nodded, and he stood, and walked carefully out the door. She lay back in her bed, after she locked her door, and stared at the ceiling thinking over her life.

Why did I even take this post? I can't seem to remember. It's like everything before is just a blur, like looking through the mist on my mirror. I mean, I feel like I want to help them, I feel like, despite their crimes, that they even deserve to be helped. But who will help me?
Chapter 4

The guards yipped at her like feral animals starting first thing in the morning, keeping their distance, yet eager to touch her and test Elaine. She played the part of the victim, walking around in a daze, her head lowered, her clothes disheveled. The prisoners even seemed to know something was wrong—they seemed to console her with their eyes as she walked by their cells, and she knew, if she opened up their doors, they would do her bidding against the guards.

Something about the whole situation was terribly amusing to Elaine. Once she got over her fear at an inmate slipping into her room in the middle of the night, the 'victim act' was tremendously satisfying. Something about playing the part of another person made her feel superior, as if those around her were too dumb to figure it all out. She kept up the act in front of the other counselors, and was surprised at their reactions. Simon and Michael seemed to ignore her completely, Sarah seemed somewhat happy, while Oliver, whom she actually hated, seemed to be more compassionate towards her. As they sat for a meeting, he nodded gently in her direction. When they disagreed about how to proceed with the next stage of some prisoners' counseling, he deferred to her judgment, allowing her as many victories as he could. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt she might have misjudged Oliver all along, and didn't know why.

Finally word came from Todd that the prison was to relax its alert level. Elaine prepared to have group sessions again behind closed doors, and for most of the day prepared schedules and activities for her five groups. She was about to head down to the cafeteria for lunch, when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly, and Philip, one of the guards, tentatively came in. "What can I do for you, Philip?"

He came all the way in, one hand in his pocket, the other on the door frame. His baton hung low like his clothing – sloppy and disheveled. Thin like Michael, but with a little more conviction in his large, brown eyes, he had a pale aspect, with graying hair. Elaine rarely noticed Philip, though when she did, he was usually in the company of Blake and Isaac.

"I . . . I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"What do you mean," she asked, playing dumb, her voice sounding as if she might break.

"I don't know. I guess . . . well, if you—if someone did something, to you, I'd want to help, to help you, that is."

"Why would _you_ want to help _me_?" she asked timidly.

"I dunno, you never messed with me. Some of the other docs pick on me, but never you."

She always noticed Oliver and Simon picked on Philip mercilessly, as he was the weakest link among the guards.

"No, you seem like a good man to me. I don't know why you associate with Isaac and Blake, but you seem nice, nevertheless."

"Blake protects me," he said, straightening up, and coming in. He closed the door softly behind him. "I mean, it's us against them, and I don't wanna be caught in a riot, with no one watching my back."

In her time in the prison, she had many grievances against the conduct of the guards, but in that one issue, she completely understood. No matter what, the guards had to be united against the prisoners, or they risked being divided and conquered.

"I understand, Philip. Still, what would you do for me?"

"Well I'd—I'd," he stammered, forcefully, "I'd hurt whoever hurt you – at least, if it was a prisoner! You just tell me what to do, and I'd do it."

She smiled, feeling that same joy she felt earlier, with Frank. While she never thought of herself as a particularly morally upright person, a part of her was surprised at the joy she got from deception and manipulation. She scanned him with a cautious eye, one more time, debating whether or not to trust him.

"Well, don't worry. Frank only came by, and talked. He's a little like you, and doesn't want to hurt anybody."

Philip let out a long sigh, obviously relieved. "That's good! But . . . don't trust Frank. He's a tricky one. One minute he's all friends with you, the next, he's squealin' on you for any bit of contraband. I mean, he'll be good to you for a while. But Frank's got urges. He needs stuff. And he'll do whatever he has to, to get it."

"What does he need?"

"I've . . . I've said too much already," he said, hurriedly opening the door. "I'm just glad to hear you're alright. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I'm just glad, that's all."

Elaine gathered a few notes, a pad, and went down to the cafeteria. Just off of the Hub, it was one of the few places where the guards would sit with the prisoners. In the cafeteria, everything else fell away, and all were only concerned with the food.

It was the two parts of her day Elaine enjoyed the most—lunch and dinner. She and the others may have to be confined within the prison for a year, but they never lacked for what appeared to be decent food. Today, she could smell the frying of meat, the sweet aroma of something baked and fruity. She knew it was all a simulation, that the food was really just protein mush supplied by OLMAC and mentally camouflaged by the Manipulator, but it still gave her some pleasure to pretend. Everyone was in a good mood as they leisurely made their way through the meal. She got in the food line, and took a tray.

The euals moved with a quiet precision, standing behind counters of food, dispensing leisurely and efficiently. Standing just over five feet tall, they were a dirty white, with thick blue lines crisscrossing their plastic and metal shells. It was easy to think of the ovular meta as just another appliance, dutifully doing what it was created to do. Sometimes though, even they could get irritated.

"Uh—gotcha!" jeered a prisoner in front of Elaine, as he shifted his tray at the last moment, making the eual drop the food on the floor. "Stupid piece of shit!" The inmate, a thin, skulking waste named Ian, was always getting into trouble torturing the euals. He started snapping his finger in front of the eual's blue optical sensors, taunting it to do anything. "Bet you wish you could fight back! Bet you wish you could do anything but dish out this shit day after fucking day!"

Suddenly, Elaine noticed the eual leaned forward, almost imperceptibly. The other euals slowed in their movements also, seeming to bend their attention to Ian. No one but Elaine noticed them, and for some reason it sent shivers up her spine.

"Ian, just get your food, so we all can get ours too."

He leaned over Elaine, with a wanton smile. "Maybe you should help me."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Colin appeared, and slammed into Ian's back with his baton, making a loud 'crack.' Elaine was always impressed with the stealth of some of the guards. Ian fell to his knees, grunting in pain.

"What _is it_ about you, _Ian_?" Colin roughly yanked him up by his collar, and then quickly and deftly secured his wrists in cuffs. "Just 'cause you're low man in the cells, you think torturing some dumb-ass machine's gonna make you look tough?" He held Ian's head by his hair. "Now apologize!"

Ian hung his head low. "I'm sorry, Lainey."

"Not her, stupid!" shouted Colin with a wide, stupid grin. "The eual!"

"What?"

Colin kicked him in-between his legs, just near his privates. "Need me to ask again?"

Ian understood the joke, and silently laughed at Elaine. He turned to the eual, and mockingly apologized. "I'm so sorry, my dear machine."

The eual stared back, mute, in reply. Colin chuckled to himself.

"That's better. After all, at least the eual actually does something."

Elaine watched as he pushed Ian away, laughing riotously to himself. She moved in front of the eual, and watched as it deposited food on her tray.

Lucky bastard.

"Lainey!"

She turned, and it was Sarah, her manager, sitting at a table nearby with the other counselors.

"Come over here, when you're done."

"Alright, Sarah."

She turned back to the eual, who looked as it always had. She noticed its serial number—MT-389.

"Three-eighty-nine, do you have any pacification protocols?"

"No," responded the eual. Its optical sensors appeared as two blue lights, suspended in the black cavern that was its head, and those lights dimmed, for a fraction of a second.

"What would your course of action have been, if the prisoner had continued his negative activities?"

The eual's head tilted slightly. "In worst case scenarios, we are programmed to protect OLMAC property. While I may not possess weaponry or offensive programming, I am in contact with . . . others, who would come to my aid."

She glanced around the cafeteria, at the twelve other euals working silently.

"You would all act as one?"

"If necessary. Wouldn't you?"

Elaine glanced back at the table of counselors. "I'm not sure we would."

She got her food and sat next to Sarah. Next to Sarah, as always, was Michael. Simon and Oliver were seated across, making this or that joke.

"Not up for the chicken?" asked Michael, as he ripped away a chunk in his teeth.

"No, not today, I just feel like something light." She had what looked like a small piece of fish on her plate, with carrots and asparagus on the side.

"Anything the matter?" asked Sarah, taking a little bit of food from Michael's plate.

"No, I'm alright. How about you, Michael? I can barely see the bruise."

"Yeah, the medics fixed me and Oliver up good." He whistled, and shook his head in amazement. "Man, John really gave us a beating!"

"You should've known better than to try to get him out of that 'superhero' delusion," scolded Sarah, as she took a long drink. "I thought we had a conversation about that."

"Yeah, well, I just thought I saw some progress," mumbled Oliver.

"And now, he and the rest of the prisoners paid for your carelessness." She scanned them all with an angry intensity. " _None_ of you make any snap diagnoses or treatments without my approval."

As much as Elaine disliked Sarah, she had to admit to herself that she was a good manager. Simon, whom Sarah sometimes confided in, told Elaine how much trouble she had when she first took over the position of Director of Prisoner Rehabilitation. Todd gave her little to no respect, and none of the guards wanted anything to do with her. But somehow, and not even Simon knew how, she was able to earn not only Todd's respect, but some of the guards' respect as well. She was efficient and diligent, an able administrator and a realist when it came to the prisoners. She held no delusions of curing them of their violent impulses, worked under no assumptions that anyone inside or outside the prison would appreciate her work. Somehow, she reconciled it all within herself, and was able to do an essentially thankless job and do it well. When Elaine cared to think about it, she knew she disliked Sarah just because she was an authority figure and something within her hated any and all manifestations of authority.

Of course, there was also the matter of her not-so-secret affair with Michael. While some relationships were bound to happen, the fact that all counselors worked without the benefit of their memories before they began at the facility made affairs distasteful, as one never knew if the other was joined in the real world. There was also the indomitable force of gossip, the only activity that was shared equally by guards, counselors, and prisoners alike. The moments before or after a group were precious ones, when a golden morsel could be traded for a rough squeeze of flesh, or something tasty treat purloined from the cafeteria. And it was gossip, more than anything else that threatened Sarah's reign.

Elaine sighed, and tried to dig into her food. It shimmered a little before her, and for a moment, she saw two lumps of protein mush where there was fresh asparagus, sautéed salmon, and diced carrots.

"Trouble with the Manipulator again?" asked Simon.

"Yeah, I always forget to take my pills before I come here." Elaine reached into her pocket, and took out a bottle, finally swallowing two small pills.

"Damned OLMAC shit," spat Michael, shoving his food away. "They make so much damned money—I'll bet none of them have ever eaten any of this stuff."

The word 'OLMAC' jogged something in Elaine's memory, but she shrugged it off.

"Seeing it for what it is makes one almost lose their appetite."

"Don't remind me!" Simon playfully squeezed his eyes shut. "All I want to know is that I'm eating spicy fried chicken, cornbread, and sweet baked beans." He dug into the pile of what looked like beaked beans to him. "As long as my mind doesn't know any different, neither do I."

"Just like you to like living in ignorance," said Sarah. "How many years have you been in here?"

"Almost three, and probably will go for the full five," he said, wiping his mouth. "You know what you get after five years? Full retirement. I won't have to work anywhere else."

"That is, if you last to five years," said Michael. "I don't know how you'll do that with your attitude."

"You've gotta be tough with these damned convicts!" shouted Simon, as a few prisoners around him looked his way. "I mean, we might be here to help them, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna be scared of 'em."

Simon's shouting drew the attention of Blake, who casually sauntered by the table of counselors, rapping his black baton in his hand. "A healthy dose of fear is a good thing." He stopped, and bent down next to Elaine. "After all, one has to know when to just run away."

"My _hero_ ," quipped Sarah, sarcastically. "At least when you're not dealing in dope for the prisoners. Should we start paying you protection money? Or is your government salary, plus what you steal from the prisoners enough?"

"Very funny, Sarah, very funny," he said, standing up. Elaine could see how Sarah was able to stand up to the guards and prisoners—she had a strength that couldn't be denied. "I'll make sure to keep my deals away from your quarters. After all, wouldn't want the noise disturbing your . . . activities." He nodded to Michael, as he walked away. "It could ruin the mood . . ."

"He'll get his," she said, after he was a safe distance away. "Anyway, I have word from Todd that we'll be starting groups again in private rooms. Michael—you and Simon will host on the first level. Oliver, you on the second, and Lainey, you on the third."

"But I've been on the third for the past month!" protested Elaine. "It's damned hot up there."

"Lainey, stop your damned whining and just do it! There are challenges on each and every floor—at least you'll have the fewest number of prisoners. Besides, since you and John seem to get along so well, I figured it should be you that welcomes him back, as he is still confined to the third level."

"Fine," she said, flopping back in her chair.

The next few weeks went by uneventfully, as the prisoners tried hard to behave. They still had deep wounds from what the guards did to them, and for a while it lay in their memories, keeping their impulses at bay. Elaine held several groups, and little by little her patients began to open up a little more, express their feelings. Even Richard began to draw more, though she couldn't look at him in the same way after what Frank told her.

Richard sat in front of her now, sketching with aplomb, the charcoal stick vanishing rapidly into the paper. A house took form, actually, more like a mansion, with long, tall columns supporting three levels of architecture. He paused only briefly to delineate the details, yet to Elaine, it was all that was needed. When the mansion looked as if it was done, he colored a thick, black cloud-looking thing that surrounded the mansion, yet didn't touch it. And in each of the windows, he colored in a black circle. In fact, he spent the most time on those circles, coloring them in again and again, trying to make them as black as possible. Elaine desperately wanted to ask him about it, but lately she felt she was focusing too much on him, and that the rest of her group believed he was her favorite.

"So, let's go around, and explain what we've drawn. John?"

John grinned dumbly at her. She recoiled ever so slightly now whenever she looked on him, so severe was his punishment from the guards. His face was still a dark shade of blue in several places, deep cuts running from his eyes down to his mouth, around puffed-up mountains of bruises. He shook a little when he spoke, and she knew he had suffered some brain damage. He held up the sheet of paper that had haphazard yellow and orange lines scribbled on the surface.

"What is it, John?"

"It . . ." he paused for a moment, nodding to himself, trying to focus on words. "It when I fly . . . when I go up—" He made a motion with his hand in the air, as if it were him, flying over the table. "—and over the . . . the sun!"

Elaine smiled at him, and glanced at his drawing.

"It's very nice, John. It must be beautiful in the clouds, looking down on all of us. Now, Illint, what did you draw?"

Illint was one of those she learned of from Frank. Originally a High School grammar teacher, when the war came close to his town, and a state of emergency was declared, he herded his class down to the basement, inside the boiler room, and locked the door. It was a full week until the emergency was lifted, and as the parents came back to look for their children, they found few left alive and whole, and those that were alive would never, ever be the same after what he had done, what he had forced them to do. Elaine could no longer look him in the eyes—she focused just above his left ear whenever he spoke.

He held up a drawing of Elaine. Rough, yet with some merit, it seemed to show a younger version of herself. She was a little thinner, and much angrier, with her fists clenched on the table and her eyes buried in shadow.

"Why how nice!" she cooed. "Just don't forget—you're not allowed to do pictures of us. I'm sure they won't mess with you about this one—thank you so much!"

"It's . . . it's of . . . Agilia . . ."

Elaine sat shocked, in total silence, for some reason petrified at his words.

"What did you say?"

Illint shook his head, back and forth, and then smudged away what he had drawn. "Nothing."

She felt the life come back into her as he washed away the image. "Now you, Richard. Show us what you've done."

He dramatically shook his head back and forth, like a five-year-old being force-fed creamed spinach. "No, I don't feel like it today." He gazed up into your eyes. "You've seen it, and that's enough."

Sometimes they could be like this—obstinate and frustrating, and it drove her to the outer bounds of her patience. She gritted her teeth, and mentally took a deep breath.

"Now Richard, all of you have spent a lot of time on your drawings, and you know they'll be destroyed when you leave. This is the only chance you have to make sure it lasts, in the minds of others."

"Like memory?"

"Yes, Richard," she said, hoping for some vestige of a breakthrough. "Like memory."

"And yet, memory can be so easily erased, and altered. I wonder if one's soul changes, if one forgets who they were?"

Elaine had to shake her head, as it was a wide tangent to go on, even for Richard.

"Well, that certainly would be a fun discussion, but why don't we focus on the drawings?" She knew she should move on, but a large part of her wanted to know what his drawing meant.

"For what is the soul?" he asked, flashing his blue eyes. "Are the soul and mind divinely connected? Or is the soul merely the essence of a man, devoid of knowledge about the experiences of one's life. And if so, what would draw one's soul to another, after death?"

"Is that what your drawing is about? Is it about souls?"

"And should we consider—"

Suddenly Colin, who was the guard on duty, drew his baton and advanced on Richard.

"Did you hear her?! Answer her question—answer it!" he shouted, turning his baton lengthwise and pushing it against the base of his neck.

"Stop!" cried Elaine, against her better judgment. "Don't hurt him!"

"Don't tell me what to do, ya dumb bitch!" Colin angrily slammed Richard's head down on the table. "He thinks he's so much better than us—fucking murderer!" He leaned with all his weight on Richard's neck, bringing a stifled cry from a few of the other inmates. "Three thousand people you killed, you sick bastard. Ain't no one cares what happens to you here!"

"Leave him alone," said John softly.

"What'd you say?" demanded Colin, turning with wild eyes filled with fury. He pushed down once more with the baton and then stood up, slapping it against his other hand. "You makin' trouble again Big Man?"

"No, you are," he said grimly.

Colin sneered, and swung the baton with all his might against John's head. John casually reached up, and stopped it inches from his face. Colin pressed harder and harder, sweat pouring off his face, as he tried to overcome John's strength.

"You think you got it bad before? You don't know what bad is, Big Man!" Colin kicked at John's seat, and the chair fell out from under him. Colin jumped on top, managing to connect with a few blows of the baton, before John recovered, and easily overpowered him.

"Help!" cried Colin. "Hel—"

John punched him hard in the mouth, and then the rage overtook him. He lifted Colin high over his head, and threw him against a wall. The other prisoners cheered and rallied around him, slapping him on the back. Elaine slowly tried to stand up and get out.

"Now where are _you_ going?" sneered Illint, blocking her way out the door. His face was shrouded in darkness and rage, pent-up from long years of incarceration. "You wouldn't leave us now, would you?"

"Just back away, Illint," she said calmly. "Just let me leave. You don't want to get in any more trouble."

"What more trouble could there be!" he jeered, bouncing from side to side. "We're murderers and rapists, sociopaths and molesters. There's nowhere for us to go, no way for us to leave, except for death. And maybe I've had just about enough of this place, and would like to leave. Maybe killing you," he said, leering at her body, "would be the beautiful capstone to an exquisite life."

"Don't!" bellowed John. "Unless you want the same as I gave Colin."

"Fuck you, you big piece of shit, fuck you!"

John stormed over to him, and Illich put up his hands in surrender. As he backed away, John put a hand on Elaine's shoulder.

"Now come on Lainey, it's time for you to leave."

"What happened to you? You seemed so . . . distant before, and now you're . . . focused."

"I don't know. Seeing Colin attack Richard, well, it seemed to bring focus back into my mind." He chucked to himself. "Perhaps I got my superpowers back."

Elaine smiled, almost to the point of tears. "You . . . you don't really believe that, do you?"

"No, I guess I don't." He took a deep breath. "It's just somewhere nice to go, and sometimes, when I'm there, I don't want to leave. But I feel like I need to stay here, at least for a while. I can feel changes are coming, and we're all gonna hafta be focused, if we're gonna survive."

In that instant, she saw something more in John, something that transcended the mere meaning of man. She saw honor and dignity, faith and devotion, twinkle in his deep brown eyes. It gave her a kind of clarity to see the infinite in the eyes of a mortal. For all her time in the prison so far, she drifted lazily down a meandering stream, following the currents where they might take her, drained and drowsy in the cool certainty of a daily routine. To rise each day, at the same time, to see the same group of people, work in the same place, murdered what was special and unique within her. And unconsciously she saw it echoed in the faces, words, and actions of those around her. For some reason the prisoners seemed to feel it most of all, rebelling against it as if it were an invader that demanded to be repulsed. And in John's eyes now she saw and felt the mighty roar of a lion, summoning her to action, challenging her to rejoin the hunt once again. But she had been dead a long time, and was unable to easily recognize the cacophonous grandeur of life.

"What do you mean?"

John slowly shook his head. "Not for you, or even me to know, right now."

"What'll happen to you?"

He shrugged absently. "More of the same, but I can handle it."

She turned to leave, but curiosity drew her back. She felt as though she had lost something, that something vital and urgent and beautiful had slipped out of her hands, back into the sky, and she was loathe to accept it had gone.

"What did it mean, Richard? What did your drawing mean?"

"What is a body when the soul has left? Like a house without inhabitants; it is a dead place."

Elaine shook her head, and swam back out into the familiar, cool waters of the stream.

She staggered out of the room, and was shocked to find Michael waiting for her. He threw his arms around her, despite her protests.

"You alright?! What's the situation?"

"Colin's down, and . . ." She wiped some sweat off her forehead. "And John's to blame."

"Oh, Lainey!" He held her again, though she tried to get away. "No, no, I know you need this," he said, holding her tightly. "You're lucky to have gotten out alive!"

Elaine learned very early in her tenure that Michael was a filthy opportunist, seeking to capitalize on every situation he could. She could only imagine how he ingratiated himself to Sarah. And as she was the only other woman in the complex, she always knew her time would come to be subjected to his advances. Elaine finally had to literally shove him away.

"How did you know about what was going on?" she demanded, straightening her clothes.

"Isaac was actually doing his job, and monitoring the surveillance cameras. He saw everything." He took a deep breath and stood as tall as he could, forcing the meager vestiges of masculinity out of hiding from within himself. "Now, it's time I put an end to this."

" _You?_ " asked Elaine, a little shocked. "Where's Sarah?"

"Sarah doesn't know everything," he said bitterly. "I've been here longer than her – I've done more than her! Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." He switched on a comm unit. "Blake? We're ready to go in."

"Damn, Blake's involved?" she whispered, with a pained expression. "Why couldn't you have used Phillip?"

"'Cause Phillip's a little chicken-shit," he spat. "Now don't worry—let me handle it. Are you ready, Blake?"

"A-ffermative," he replied, a little comically. "Big Man's caused us his last bit 'o trouble."

Elaine pushed Michael against a wall. "You make sure of one thing," she said, with a strength that even surprised Michael, "John is _not_ to be killed! He's the only one of them that seems to actually care about us."

"He's got a funny way of showin' it! Do you know what he did—back out there, in the 'real world'? Well neither do I. All I know is that a lot of people had to die, in a pretty damned foul way, for him to be in here. Fifteen years ago, before the end of the war, people like him would'a been shot in a second. Don't worry, your precious John won't be hurt too badly. Ain't that right, Blake?"

"A-ffermative," he said with a dark chuckle.

"Alright—move in!"

Michael opened the door and flipped off the lights, as Blake and Colin rushed in from the other entrance. Elaine could hear several screams, and the sounds of chairs being thrown against walls. She imagined John was putting up a hell of a fight, but after a few minutes, all was quiet again.

"Blake?!" shouted Michael into the comm. "Blake—you finished?"

"A-ffermative. It's all done."

Elaine snatched the comm from Michael.

"Is John still alive?"

"Barely baby. Illich ain't so lucky, but your precious pup Dicky's still kickin'. Least he was smart enough to hide in a corner."

Elaine breathed a sigh of relief, that is, until she saw Sarah storming down the hall towards them with Isaac in tow. She knew instantly that things had just gone from bad to worse. "Hope you still know what you're doing," she whispered to Michael.

"What have you done!" she screamed, as Michael backed away a little.

"I . . . I handled a situation," he replied anxiously, trying to summon his courage, "a situation I _know_ how to deal with."

" _Without_ me? Without _my_ authority? What happened in there?"

"Just doin our jobs, li'l lady," said Blake, as he emerged from the room, his uniform spattered with blood and flesh. "Just made a couple of families breathe a little easier, now that Illich's dead."

"Dead? Dead?!" yelled Sarah. "In one of our counseling rooms? Do you have any idea what—" She clenched her fists, and tried to calm herself down. "Do you know how many fucking inquiries we're going to have to answer?"

"Now, now, calm down." Isaac's voice was patronizingly sweet, and it made Sarah even more furious. "It's all over. Illich was just a little fish, one no one will miss. Besides, your boyfriend has some choice contacts in the new government. I'm sure no one will come a knockin', will they?"

"Nope," said Michael with a silly grin, "no one'll come."

"See? No docs got hurt, no one's precious babies got too roughed up," he said gesturing to Elaine, "and we can all go back to life as usual. Still, it wouldn't hurt for me to file a few . . . papers, reinforcing my support of this action."

"No, it wouldn't hurt," said Michael, with a dramatic conspiratorial wink. "I'll even stop by and help you file them."

Sarah backhanded Michael across his face, the venom boiling in her eyes. Blake and Isaac both took a step back, each one poorly trying to muffle their laughter.

"Don't you _ever_ go above me _again_! Don't you even think you can take responsibility for a pile of _shit_ again, much less the lives of these inmates." She whirled to Blake and Isaac. "And as for you two, don't get any ideas about trading me in for a poorer, stupider model," she said, pointing to Elaine. She grabbed Isaac by the shirt, and drew him close, speaking in a low voice. "I've got so much shit on you they oughta label you a damned landfill. I never forget, and what's more, I make duplicates of whatever I write down. So have your fun with Mikey-boy, so long as you understand they _all_ answer to _me_!"

Isaac brushed her hand off his shirt, and snickered. "You got it, little Miss Shitshine. This'll be the last time we come to any of your docs' rescue, without letting you lead the charge. I only hope Lainey here can take care of herself. Regardless, I think you're gonna have to give Elaine another group. Most of hers are now, well, unable to function properly."

Elaine gritted her teeth as Isaac guffawed, walking languidly away. The only thing that gave her pleasure was the look on Sarah's face as Michael tried to make up.
Part II: Recognition

Chapter 5

She woke up to another day, gazing into the mirror, confused at what she saw.

Is that me?

Elaine examined her hair, her eyes, her shoulders, her breasts. She never liked to pause in front of the mirror while she was in the nude, but something today made her pause, made her look at what her eyes always avoided.

" _The absence of memory does strange things to a person,"_ she could remember Todd telling her, on one of her first days in the prison. " _Your mind builds up imaginary conspiracies to explain the loss. It's the Manipulator suppressing your memories. Your mind can't help but try to fight it, and in waging that battle, it turns the Manipulator into an enemy."_

Some mornings she would consciously fight this unseen adversary, this machine, this computer that kept a part of herself hidden. This morning, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She sought to . . . remember, her first kiss. Her first heartache. The first time she killed—

What?

And this would happen, every time she did. While she couldn't remember her childhood, her maturation into an adult, she expected, probably naively so, that what lay hidden was something normal and acceptable, that she wouldn't be a counselor if her past was filled with all manner of trauma. But there it was, every time she fought against the Manipulator. An errant thought, an unexpected question.

" _You need to focus, on yourself, when you grow confused,"_ Todd had told her. _"_ _You need to stand in front of the mirror, and reaffirm your identity. State your name, believe in yourself, and the doubt and anxiety will fade."_

She did just that, focusing on her image in the mirror. Her skin was smooth, all of uniform shade and hue, except for underneath her right elbow. It was darker, the skin a little rougher, a few cuts in front of the bend. _How did I get those?_ She tried to think back, but couldn't concentrate, couldn't remember. _I . . . I am Elaine?_ She nodded to herself. _I am Elaine. I am Elaine. I may not know my past, but this is who I am. I am a doctor, named Elaine._ She straightened up, lifting her chin high. On the sink was a bottle filled with yellow pills. She opened it, and took one, with a small glass of water. _Wonder what we'd do without the stims. Sure couldn't make it through a day without 'em._ She glanced at a clock on the wall. _Damn_ _am I late!_

She hurriedly dressed, and moved quickly past the checkpoints that separated the doctor's quarters from the main prison. There were three detectors, each one attuned to search for different materials. She usually flew by them, but today, Colin was on duty.

His face was like some organic form of camouflage that now would enable him to hide behind blue flowers. His left eye was still terribly swollen, and his right arm was in a thick cast. But his mouth was fine, and that was turned into a wide, maniacal grin.

"Hello Lainey, why, it's good to see you this morning!"

"Hello Colin. Are you feeling any better?" Though in truth she couldn't care less, as she felt he got what he deserved.

"Oh a little, a little," he said distantly. "Now come on, step on through the machine."

She stepped through, and as she passed under the plastic hood, she saw Colin reach out his hand. The machine went off, sounding a small alarm.

"Oh my! Are you bringing contraband in again, Lainey?"

"Come on, this isn't funny! Just do your damned job."

"I am, Lainey, I am." He was full of mock regret. "Well, try again—maybe it was just an error on the part of the machine."

She stepped through again, and he also held out his hand, setting off the machine.

"Again?! Why this _is_ serious Lainey."

"What's in your hand?!"

"Nothing!" He opened his hand, and indeed, it was empty. "Well, sure would be a shame if I had to order a strip search."

She cursed him under her breath. On the one hand, she couldn't survive in the prison without the guards, who often did quell the tougher inmates. On the other hand, most times she felt the guards were little better than the prisoners. Every day she thanked Holis they weren't allowed to carry guns, for many more would surely have died.

"What do you want?" Her voice was soft and sweet, but her eyes were made of molten lead.

"Me? Hmmm . . . I don't know. Maybe you could suggest some things, and if I like them, I'll let you go. How's that?"

"What do you want, money?"

Colin paused, wrinkling his nose. "No, not this time."

"Food?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"What the fuck do you want!" she yelled, and Colin immediately tried to silence her.

"Fine, Lainey," he grumbled, the silly grin vanishing in an instant. "Well, you have Ronald in your group today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Ronald walked in on something he shouldn't have."

Gossip got around quick, especially about one of the guards. "You and Luke?"

Colin gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, he needs to remember who's got the big black stick. You need to turn your head after the group's done, as I hold back Ronald. Just keep on going. You understand?"

Ronald wasn't one Elaine knew too much about. He was one of the few whose crime she didn't know. All the same, he was usually polite to her in the halls, and when she had to walk past the lines of cell doors, and the other prisoners leered and catcalled at her, he respected her, nodding his head as she passed by.

"What if he gets the best of you? You've already been beaten up once."

"That faggot fool? What is he, sixty? Always so fuckin' quiet. No, he's goin' down, and goin' down easy. You understand?"

"Fine."

Colin stepped back, and grudgingly allowed Elaine to pass through.

All through the group, Elaine was trying to figure out a way to warn Ronald. It was difficult, as Colin stood directly behind him, his narrow cruel eyes boring down on his head. It was a group with several new members, and most of the session was spent getting acquainted.

"So, Mark, we're coming up on the holidays. Is there something you liked to do at this time of year?"

He shrugged. A man in his late forties, she quickly learned Mark didn't say much, and mostly kept to himself, like most of the prisoners in her group. To share of oneself meant to acknowledge there was life before the prison—a life they would never go back to. But it was her job to provide an emotional balance, and integrating some of their past lives into the present was one of the best ways. Which was ironic, seeing as she had no past life to draw upon.

"Did you ever join in any chants, or put up any decorations where you lived?"

"I sung, a little," he mumbled in a low, gravelly voice. "A few of us might get some booze and sit in the park, drinkin' and singin'."

"Well, we could do that here, without the liquor. Who else would like to join in a chant?"

A few of the others raised their hands—enough for a majority.

"Well that's great!" cried Elaine with forced enthusiasm. "Let me cue up one of the melodies, and we can sing along."

She turned to a small synthesizer she kept in her office, and slowly pulled up a few melodies, wracking her brain as to how to warn Ronald. She had less than twenty minutes to do it.

"Alright," she said, turning back, "let's break up into two groups. Mark; you, James and Matthew sit over there, and take the lower register. Ronald; you and Thomas come over here, and we'll take the upper, as I can't sing as low as you men can."

They broke up into the two groups, and Colin folded his arms and stood in a nearby corner. Elaine turned on the synthesizer, and soon a metronome beat out a slow pace.

"Let me print out some lyrics." She went on her computer, which drew Colin's eyes. She had debated inserting a message in the lyrics, but he afforded her no privacy. The sheets spewed out of the printer, and she handed them to the two groups. "Are you ready? Alright, here it goes!"

" _Sing of the day that Holis smiled on us,_

giving our kin the wisdom

Sing of the light Holis shone on us

giving our kin their destiny

Kill, kill, the Rell my friend

Make them repent their evil ways

Kill, kill, the Rell my love

and bring our children peace."

The chant went on and on, as it was a long chronicle of atonement and redemption. Colin kept his eyes on Ronald, which allowed Elaine to write something carefully on the lyrics. Finally the song came to an end.

"Alright, would we like to try one more? Great. Ronald, you shred these, while I print up some new ones."

Ronald went over to the shredder, and inserted the leaves of paper. She handed out the new pages, glancing over at Ronald to see if he read them, but he seemed distracted. Colin started for a moment after he shredded the paper, but relaxed as they sang the next song, which ended far too quickly for Elaine. The bell rang signaling the end of the session. Colin smiled at her, who knew she had lost.

"Alright everyone, it was good to meet you! Our next session is in two days. Think about what you might like to do then." She watched, as Colin kept Ronald back with his baton, and the others hurried out of the room. She was about to say something, when Colin gestured her to leave. Colin was so eager to start, he couldn't even wait until Elaine was out of earshot before pummeling Ronald with his baton. She closed the door firmly and then leaned back against it.

"Don't worry, Ronald can take care of himself," said Matthew, who lingered for a moment, as the other prisoners waited for Colin to come out and escort them back to their cells.

"How did you know?"

"It's a small prison. You hear a lot of things. Like that little incident with you, Ian and the eual."

Elaine was taken aback at his knowledge. "What of it?"

Suddenly Colin came out of the room, beaming with a wide smile, pushing Ronald in front who held his head low.

"All you fools—get in line!"

Matthew stayed for a moment longer, as Colin gave Ronald more grief. For the first time, Elaine noticed how kind and gentle his eyes were. He had a thick goatee, and bushy eyebrows, with long hair that covered most of his eyes. He spoke quickly, knowing time was short. "The euals are susceptible to strong mental suggestion. They weren't always food dispensers, you know."

"Come on, Matthew," shouted Colin, slamming his baton against a wall. "Back in line!"

As he walked into line, something about his manner of walking—tall, proud, erect, touched something in her mind. For a moment, it was as if a cloud was pulled back, allowing her to see what truly was. In that instant, she knew Matthew could be no prisoner, for no prisoner walked like that. No prisoner held themselves with such honest dignity, such nobility.

It was lunchtime again, time for the truce between guard and inmate. It was one of two times in every day that tensions eased, as food was the only thing on anyone's mind. The more Elaine lived and worked in the facility, the more she thought the Manipulator probably enhanced the pleasurable aspect of eating, nulling violent impulses.

On her way over she stopped by Doctor Elestor's office, asking about John. She didn't see him in any of the beds when she got there, but Elestor assured her he was progressing fine. Something about his mannerisms, even his tone of voice raised more questions than he answered, but she knew she could do little about it.

As she got into the cafeteria, Elaine's mind was focused on what Matthew told her earlier. She did a cursory search of the euals, and found what he told her was true. They were converted military euals, used to ferry supplies to and from the battlefield. They were created to be sympathetic to the emotions of the soldiers, that if they came across a wounded soldier that was near death, they would sense his mental anguish, and stay by his or her side. And while they were given orders or commands, they were meant to be influenced by the extreme needs of frontline commanders. As such, their central processors defaulted to strong needs, overriding less important commands.

Elaine couldn't wait to test out her suspicions. She got a tray of food quickly, nodding to the eual numbered MT-389, then sat at a table near the food line, waiting for her favorite inmate.

"Hey Lainey," waved Michael, who was sitting at a far table, "come sit here!"

"I'll be over in a bit," she replied, as she sat back and waited. _Don't come here, don't come here, don't come here!_ she thought over and over again, as out of the corner of her eye she could see Michael debate whether or not to sit down. _Damn you're an insecure piece of crap._ She could see he made up his mind, and came over to sit with her.

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked, sitting across from her. "We never sit this close to the food line—you never know what'll happen."

"Yeah, you don't. And I think today might be a good show."

Ian had finally come into the line, with inmates from the rest of his cellblock. He had a swagger as he grabbed a tray from one of the euals. A short man with muscular arms, he wasn't in her group, so she knew little about him, other than that he hated the euals. _I wonder why. Ah well, you're gonna hate them a lot more after today._

"So," began Michael, trying to make conversation, "how was your group today?"

"Pretty . . . pretty good," absently answered Elaine, as she saw Ian was coming up on MT-389. "Hold on a sec—I think one of the euals is malfunctioning."

Ian was coming up to the eual, as Elaine began to press her mind on the machine. She tried something simple—she wanted the eual to slam its ladle on Ian's tray, knocking it over.

"Hey, looky, it's my favorite fuckin' machine," jeered Ian. "Think you can get it right this time?"

She pressed hard on the eual's mind, not knowing if she was really accomplishing anything. Michael was saying something, chattering as he always did, but she ignored him.

Come on, come on, bring it down hard! You know he hates you, hates all your kind. He needs to be taught a lesson!

The eual scooped up a portion of the protein meal, and swiveled it over Ian's tray.

"Well, hurry it up you dumb fuck!"

Elaine pressed even harder, focusing on the eual's arm, willing it to drop like a sac of cement on Ian's tray.

"Lainey?!" yelled Michael, tired of being ignored.

"What?" she snapped back, now unable to concentrate.

"I—"

Suddenly the food line turned into utter chaos. Ian was climbing over the basins of food, trying to get to MT-389, while Blake and Colin were running over with batons drawn, rushing to subdue him.

"What's going on there?" asked Michael, standing to get a better look.

Elaine just smiled, and began to dig into her plate. "Probably just more foolishness. Just ignore them—I do."

She got back to her suite, feeling more alive than since she could remember.
Chapter 6

It wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done, but she did it anyway. She gave Philip a token—a pair of her unwashed underwear. She learned of Philip's fetish one day in the cafeteria, when the guards were teasing him mercilessly. It was after a government inspection, and one of the inspectors, a female, complained that some of her clothes were missing. Philip neglected to pay off Isaac enough, and the next day a surveillance tape of Phillip sneaking into her room was discovered. He was reprimanded, but worse, he incurred the savage taunting and teasing of the guards. Blake even told a few of the prisoners, and they teased him, chanting a particularly dirty limerick they devised as he would patrol at night. It took him a full six months to fully move past it, and ever since then he ingratiated himself as often as possible to Isaac and Blake.

So Phillip was overjoyed when Elaine slipped him her little gift, and he allowed her to sneak into the cells. She wanted to visit Ronald, and make sure he was alright. She tried to talk herself out of it, but she felt so responsible for his beating, and no matter what he had done before he was incarcerated, he was still a human being, and deserved some basic form of respect. Of course that was just a lie. She needed some excuse to have an adventure, and supposed guilt over prisoner treatment was as good an excuse as any.

It was one o'clock in the morning, and most of the prisoners were asleep. A few still had on their AV units, and they buzzed with an old comedy or sales pitch. She crept by the cells, one by one, pausing each time she cleared a cell-front. The grey marble floor was cold under her hands, and all she could think about was what she was putting her skin on. Often the prisoners would urinate outside their doors, out of spite, just to make the guards get a eual to clean it up. Or the more mentally unbalanced ones would throw feces at the guards, or smear it on the cell doors, like they were marking their territory. There was little bleach inside the facility, so the filth was merely washed off with pressurized, scalding hot water. Her nose itched terribly, but she forbade herself the pleasure of itching it, pretending her hands were some alien objects she couldn't trust.

She carried a small penknife she managed to buy several months ago, a little form of protection, and she held it tightly against her chest.

Just a few more . . . just a few more. I can hold myself together, for just a few more.

Luckily the lighting was quite dim or the prisoners on the other side of the bay would have been able to see her. But as it was, the cells she passed by held only snoring giants, some of which kicked and thrashed in their sleep. What made it more terrifying for her was not only that she knew which prisoners she was passing by, but now she had an idea of what crimes they were guilty. She stole a glance at one youthful man, who was a little heavy, that she knew killed his wife, her lover, and both their families. While the number of people killed wasn't great, the fact that he strung them up on meathooks and cut off their limbs until they died made him much more threatening. There were times, before she knew, that she wondered what he was in for, if it could've been a mistake, so passive, calm, and intelligent he was. Afterward, she knew better.

Just another sociopath.

The next cell she passed by held a thin, short man, who was nearly bald, who always spoke with a heavy lisp. He had large grey eyes, and always kept his lips tightly shut. He was beaten up on by many of the prisoners, even sodomized by some of the guards – at least she heard rumors. Now that she knew that he not only killed his wife, but their five children, after raping them all and eating their eyes, she understood more.

Finally.

She stopped just around the corner from Ronald's cell. He unfortunately wasn't one of those she learned of, for if she knew of his crimes, she knew she might not have come.

_But here I am._ She turned the corner, and bent down low to the floor. "Ronald?" she whispered, in a voice barely audible. "Ronald?"

She heard him stir in his bed.

"Ronald?" This time a little louder, so her trip wouldn't be in vain.

He groaned, and sat up. She waved at him, and he crept down onto the floor, putting his blanket under him, so he would make no noise as he shuffled over to the door.

"That you Lainey?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What're you doin' here?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "If you get caught, or hurt—we all get punished!"

"I . . ." she sat back against the cell door, wondering if she really would tell him. "I—did you get my message?"

He nodded affirmatively, letting out a long sigh.

"I'm so sorry," she said, reaching out to the door, only to curse herself as he instantly seized on her hand.

"Oh Lainey, you don't know how long it's been since I've touched a woman," he said, as his fingers savored every crack and crevice of her hand. She felt for a moment like she was being molested, so intense was his touch. Then, he suddenly pulled away. "I—I'm sorry Lainey, I just, well, I get these desires—needs, you know."

"I know. Are you alright?"

He leaned back against the cell wall. "Colin wailed into me pretty good. Guess I deserved it, seein' what I saw."

"No, you _didn't_ deserve it," she said emphatically. "I just wanted to come by, and tell you that. I know I'll see you in group, but I could never say this to you in front of others, and I knew it needed to be said."

"You don't know how much this means to me, Lainey. I mean, bein' behind these walls, these bars, all this time, well, I gave up hope so long ago. Not hope for gettin' out—I was never stupid enough to have that. But hope that I could live as a souman being, live with some kind of dignity. When someone has the right to tell you to strip down, and spread your ass so they can poke inside, well, it does something to a man. When someone like Colin can beat on someone like me, and not get anything as punishment, well, sometimes I just wish he would finish the job."

"No," she said, putting her hand back on the cold metal rails. He lightly put his hand on hers, not seizing it or gripping it, but merely gently laying his flesh next to hers. "You should never think like that."

She heard him take a deep breath. "As much as I like having you here, you need to leave. And believe me, your message worked. I knew he would beat on me, and I was prepared for it, and that's a whole lot better than bein' ambushed. You're alright Lainey, and if it means anything comin' from a piece of shit like me, you've got a friend."

She started to move away, but she needed to ask one last question. "Have you heard or seen anything about John?"

"No," he said, sadly shaking his head. "Haven't heard a single thing! And that's odd. Usually someone would talk, especially the guards, who love to brag about what they do to us behind closed doors. But this time, nothing. And that worries me."

"It worries me too."

She moved back equally slowly, her eyes now thoroughly accustomed to the darkness. Something about the black shadows was appealing to her, and felt like home. She even moved differently on the floor, her limbs moving in concert, her points of contact with the ground becoming fewer and briefer. She crept quickly and quietly with an efficiency of motion, brought on by some instinct she never knew she had. As she came on the last row of cells to pass by, something else within her asserted itself, and her hand almost refused to move, as if some unseen force was battling with her. She pressed forward and put it down, and suddenly out of the darkness of the cell bolted a thick hand that gripped her wrist like a vise.

Damn!

It took all her willpower not to cry out, not to yell, especially when the hand pulled her entire arm inside the cell in one lightning motion. She lost control, and fell back on the floor, looking up into a pair of hateful, evil eyes framed by a darkness that was now full of peril and death.

"Hello Lainey," hissed the voice. "I saw you pass by earlier, and was hurt you didn't stop to say hello. I thought I'd make sure you paid me a visit. After all we've been through in the cafeteria, I just _knew_ you'd say hello."

She visually double-checked what cell it was, because she dreaded the thought if it was who she thought it was. Unfortunately, she knew who was in the cell.

"Ian, you need to let me go."

"You shouldn't be here, Lainey," he said, stroking along her arm. "This is the very last place you should be. If all the lights came on, I'll bet the guards would just look at you and laugh. They might even open up all the cells, and let us all have our way with you."

She thought of pulling out her knife and slashing his hand with it, but she knew it would only cause an alarm, and get her into a great deal of trouble. _I'll just have to deal with this, and hope for the best_.

He scooted closer to the cell door. "So you just go and cry out, Lainey, and take your chances with those assholes that are guards. Or, you just close your eyes, and in a few minutes, it'll all be over . . ."

She closed her eyes, and in a few minutes it was over, and she moved quickly on, wiping her hand on her shirt, struggling not to vomit. She managed to walk calmly past Philip, who was too preoccupied with thoughts of rubbing her panties all over himself to take any notice of the sticky fluid on her shirt.
Chapter 7

Morning was an unwelcome event, as she had no desire to once again face the world she was condemned to live in. Disturbing dreams plagued her sleep, in which the prisoners crowded around her, their hands clasped behind their backs, leaning in all at once, as if she were looking through some distorted lens. They looked at her as if she were some alien, some creature that didn't belong. She struggled to strike out at them, but her hands wouldn't reach, or she couldn't find the strength to make a fist. She woke repeatedly throughout the night, slamming her hand on the alarm clock when it finally rang.

More of the same.

She tried to go through her daily ritual, of first getting into her slippers, putting away her dirty clothes, and then getting in the shower. But she forgot to replace the towel she put in her hamper the night before, and had to run naked and wet into her bedroom to get another. Then it was the mouthwash that wouldn't cooperate, spilling all over the floor and her clean legs, dousing them with the unmistakable scent of chemical. She spilled her bottle of stims, forgot if she even took one, and ended up doubling the dose. She groaned as the toaster refused to eject her bread, and by the time she realized she was out of juice, she had reached a low simmer of fury.

The walk to her group wasn't much better, as the prisoners seemed to leer and taunt her even more, reaching out with their foul hands, trying to soil her clean body. More than ever before she was hyper-conscious about the touch of another, shrinking in anger from Colin when she passed through the metal detectors. She sighed, when he thankfully knew she wasn't in a mood to be toyed with. She thought about stopping by Elestor's office again to ask about John, but just didn't need more bad news that early in the morning.

Then, as she sat down for her group, she saw that it had a couple of more additions. She had a note on her computer that Simon wasn't feeling well, and there would be some additions to the various groups. Three of the new inmates she didn't recognize, but the fourth's name sunk to the pit of her stomach like a lead balloon.

Ian.

She plowed into her routine, scarcely looking any of the prisoners in the eye. Out went the drawing materials, on went the clock to time them in their exercise, around the group went her finger, singling out each of them to explain their five-minute masterpieces. As she got to Ian, she knew he wouldn't be able to resist taunting her, and he did.

"How would you explain your work?" she asked curtly, glancing over his drawing.

"Pleasure," replied Ian with a silly grin, followed by a quiet chuckle. "Just pleasure."

Something in her snapped. She knew she was over-agitated from the double dose of stims, but she was also pissed off at Ian's smugness. "Really?"

"Yeah, that's all," he shrugged, spreading his legs wide, revealing the firm mound lying in wait. "Pleasure."

She looked up, and Philip was standing nearby. She had requested him after the last group, and thankfully, Todd complied.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you." She faked concern, her lips pursing in discontent. "You'll have to speak up."

"It's about pleasure," he said, with almost a yell, responding to her challenge.

Elaine glanced at Philip, who was attentive as usual. He came behind Ian with his baton drawn.

"Now Ian, I'm trying to be nice, but you need to cooperate," she said in a calm, even voice, almost saccharinely sweet. "I've asked you twice, and I'm just not getting any answer. _What_ does your drawing _mean_?"

The other prisoners glanced at her, then at Philip, and then quickly slid their chairs away from Ian. Half of them couldn't believe what was about to happen, while the other half couldn't care less.

"It's . . ." stammered Ian, now utterly confused and a little scared as he kept glancing back at Philip, "it's about pleasure, and—"

Elaine shrugged. "I wish you would cooperate," she said with a deadpan smile. She nodded at Phillip, who plunged the baton's head into Ian's neck. Ian grunted, almost falling headfirst into the floor. He sat back down carefully, pleading with his eyes to Philip, who answered with a thin smile. "Now Ian, I wish you would respond. I'm only doing this for your own good—we need to share, to make any progress. Now, what's your drawing about?"

Ian was beginning to sweat. He turned to the other prisoners for help, but they avoided him, pretending nothing was happening. He turned back to face her, not knowing which way to answer.

"Well . . . it's about, a feeling that I have, when good things come—"

Another nod from Elaine, and this time Philip brought the baton squarely down on Ian's head, with a sound that seemed to be like the breaking of bone. Ian tried to stand, and that's when Philip let loose with the baton. Though to outward appearances the guards swung at random with their batons, in fact each of them went through an extensive training period detailing which were the best pressure points on a man's body. Philip exploited those now, bringing what was a physically superior foe down to his knees in excruciating pain in less than two minutes. When he was done, and Ian knelt in a small pool of his blood, Elaine came and stood over him.

"I would give you a hand up, but I'm afraid you might not take it," she said slowly. She took a deep breath, feeling a great deal of pleasure from looking on his broken body. "Oh, you were talking about _pleasure_! I think I know just what you mean."

After her group cleared the room, Elaine was left alone to clean up her things. She paused, sitting behind her desk, her hands shaking.

_Did I just do that?_ She replayed the incident with Ian in her mind, the point that Philip let loose on Ian's head. _I actually enjoyed that._ Despite her disgust, her lips curled into a smile. _I . . . enjoyed that. And I would do it again, if any of those little shits fuck with me again!_ She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, a good deal of her doubts and hesitations, her worries and fears, went out as well. She was about to clench her fist in triumph, when the door slowly closed.

"Hey, Lainey."

Her face almost went white, as she saw who it was.

"Hello, Isaac."

" _Quite_ a _day_!" He strode over to one of the chairs, and sat down. It was the first time he ever sat in front of her, like he was an inmate, and it seemed utterly ridiculous to Elaine, but she just couldn't bring herself to laugh. He ran his hand through his thinning hair, pressing it even closer to his scalp, sending a few errant flakes of dandruff to join their partners on the shoulder of his shirt. "Seems like if it isn't Big Man runnin' rampant over a few counselors, then it's some dumb shits in the cafeteria messin' with euals."

"Yeah. It's been a full couple of days."

"And you know, I see it all, Lainey. While I may not be Holis—after all, I don't got any special powers—I do feel like a Holis, lookin' through my cameras at all that goes on in here."

"Really?" weakly asked Elaine, who felt as if she was being pressed into a corner. "I'll bet you see some things."

Isaac stretched his arms high over his head, all the while keeping his eyes trained on her. "I sure do, Lainey, I sure do. I see all, and know all. For instance, I know your little secret."

Elaine struggled to keep herself together. Something about being branded a failure was utterly repugnant to her, yet if Isaac knew about her late-night escapade, it was all over.

"Do you?"

"You didn't think I'd find out? Now, mind you, it did take some searchin'. Somethin' 'bout that fight seemed all wrong. And when I went over the camera feed, and saw you sittin' so close to the feed-line, I knew somethin' was up."

_The feed line?_ thought Elaine. _He must be talking about Ian and the eual._ "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Lainey, don't play coy with me!" he bolted to his feet, now looming over her. "Who told you 'bout the euals?"

"What do you mean?"

Isaac let out a long sigh. "I'm not some dumb-ass fool! The one time you sit close to the feedline, the one time a eual spills food on a prisoner, it happens to be Ian, who gave you trouble the day before." He chuckled to himself. "A part of me actually respects what you've done. I always thought you didn't even know what a spine was and here you got Ian back. But the other part of me sees all the trouble that could come about, and that's why I'm here."

"Oh. Well, some of the paint was chipping off one of the euals, and I thought I recognized the color. I did some checking, and found out about their history."

Isaac nodded. "They do need a damned paint job." He smiled wryly. "I still think you got some info from someone, but I'll take your word on it. So long as you don't do any shit like this again. You wanna get back at a prisoner for acting like an ass? Then do it through us. We're more than happy to put a man down, that is, for a small fee."

"Isaac?"

"What, Lainey?"

"What are you doing to John?"

"You don't need to know, and you _don't_ wanna ask."

Isaac left, and Elaine sat back in her chair.

_Do I really care that much about being here? Who would I disappoint if I left? Why do I even want to stay here, do this disgusting work for people who couldn't care less about me?_ She walked to one of her windows that overlooked the central recreation area. Below her, one of the cellblocks of prisoners were having their time, lifting weights, throwing a ball around. _At least they know why they're here._ Her thoughts grew cloudy and distant, as unbeknownst to her the Manipulator pushed her doubts back in her mind. _I guess we've all got to be somewhere, do something._ She gathered her things and headed to a meeting with the other counselors, her mind suitably distracted from a crisis of conviction.

Elaine thought all her troubles were behind her, until at the meeting Sarah brought it up again.

"What's this I hear about Ian being slammed down?"

They all sat in the conference room—all of the counselors, in addition to Doctor Elestor. Through the afternoon they went over the status of the various prisoners and their progress reports. Elaine dreaded when Ian's name would be mentioned. She sat in silence now, shrugging in answer to Sarah.

"I mean, I've never read of any time when Ian was slammed down," continued Sarah, her voice rising to her usual irritating whine. "He's a sick one, but he's known his place since he got into this prison. What happened, Lainey?"

"He was non-responsive to my questions," she replied flatly, without any emotion.

" _Really?_ " asked Sarah slyly and sarcastically, as if she was waiting for that answer. "Well, Isaac didn't report anything out of the ordinary, and he reviewed the entire security tape. He said it shows Ian responding to your questions."

"Why the third degree, Sarah?" demanded Oliver. "I read the report—Isaac wasn't in the room, Philip was. Why are you questioning the report of a guard who was on scene?"

"Honestly Sarah," chimed in Michael, who was still on her bad side, and enjoyed challenging her authority now whenever he could, "it's not as if Ian's some damned angel. It's right there in his psych work-up, that he's prone to fits of excessive violence and passive-aggressive behavior."

"Then why would Isaac conflict with Phillip's report?"

"Who knows what's on Isaac's agenda today. More drugs one day, more cigarettes another. I even heard rumors he was trying to smuggle in weapons."

Sarah snorted with laughter. "Now that's just absurd. He knows the danger—I don't know who you've been listening to, but they're fooling with your head."

She carried on for a few more minutes, telling Michael how stupid she was. Elaine nodded to Oliver in thanks, and after the meeting caught up to him as he walked back to his office.

"That was real good of you to do that for me."

"No problem, Lainey. I owed you after you saved me from John." He stopped for a minute. "I've been meaning to apologize to you. I know how close you are to John, that is, I know you understand him, and I got myself into trouble with what I did. So . . . we even?"

She grinned. "Of course." They walked on to his office. "Have you heard anything about John? No one wants to tell me anything, and he isn't in the sickbay, Elestor won't answer my questions, and neither will Isaac."

"This isn't the first time shit like this has happened, Lainey. Once in a while, when a prisoner crosses that line one too many times, they take him somewhere, and do things to him. It's only happened twice before, and both times, that prisoner died, never to be seen again."

Elaine took a deep breath, as the fear ate at her stomach. _Why do I care so much about a damned prisoner? What s it about John that makes me so concerned?_

"You alright, Lainey?"

"Yeah, yeah." She decided to change the subject. "Do you think Michael was lying about Isaac smuggling in weapons?"

"Who's to say? It sure wouldn't surprise me. The only question is; what for? I mean, we don't have any gangs in here, in fact, we have very few prisoners who feel any allegiance to any other. This has to be the most individualistic prison I've ever been in. The only reason for the prisoners to work together would be to kill the guards and escape. And even then, I'll bet a few would turn on each other."

Something had been nagging at her all afternoon, especially after her thoughts were converted by the Manipulator. "You ever think they're using some mind-tech on us—on them? I mean, we have our situations and everything, but you're right, they're all too well divided to be some coincidence."

"Well, if they are, it wouldn't be without the complicity of at least Todd, if not Sarah, or another of the doctors. The biggest question in a prison, whether you're an inmate, guard, or doctor, is; who do you trust? Nowhere else is trust up for sale like in here."

She stopped in the hallway, for some reason deciding to lay some of her cards on the table.

"Do you ever find yourself thinking of something, then, for no reason, your mind loses interest, and focuses on something else?"

Oliver glanced back and forth, making sure they were alone. "What were you thinking of?"

"Being here. More accurately, why we are here."

Oliver nodded. "I've had those thoughts too. But, that's a consequence of having our memories repressed. We don't remember going to school, getting a degree, marrying someone or having children. We have no sense of accountability or responsibility in respect to our lives. So, the Manipulator is the safeguard. When it senses our thoughts straying, questioning our purpose, it intervenes. It gives us our purpose, so we don't do something to destroy our lives. You've seen it in so many of these inmates, Lainey. So many of them don't posses that moral inner-voice, that doubt or concern about embarrassment or failure. We call those people sociopaths, and we are akin to them, without our memories."

Elaine smiled in understanding. _Why don't I like him? I've never liked him, and yet, here he is helping me understand._ "Do you ever think the Manipulator does more than just that? How deep is it controlling our reactions to one another?"

"Who knows," shrugged Oliver. "We have our own personal Holis, and every day we need to have faith that it is making the right decisions for us, for our futures. Honestly, I try not to think about it. I just live my life, do the best I can, and hope it will all turn out. Oh, and don't forget, it's your turn to give the motivational speech to the inmates. Let me know if you need any help preparing . . ."

She watched as Oliver walked away, feeling markedly better without him in her presence.

You can be like that, but I need to take charge of my life, of my fate. The last thing I'll do is leave it up to some damned computer.

The next night she stole out again, after a short nap of three hours. The doubts she had died easily, as she actually looked forward to sneaking around, despite what happened to her the night before. She dressed even more carefully, in black pants and a black shirt, and with three pairs of socks on which she managed to glue the rubber stops from the bottom of the furniture in her room, for traction if need be. She also found herself working out after her last group, in the main yard, though the prisoners didn't quite know what to make of it. Many of them kept watching the guards, waiting for them to turn away, so they could try to grope Elaine in some way. Others ignored her completely, as they didn't want any more abuse.

The main stumbling block was the initial checkpoint between the civilian residences and the cellblock, and luckily, for now, Phillip was still on guard. She gave him another pair of her underwear—the ones she wore the night before, and they aroused him even more. As he checked her by, she began to wonder how long it would be before even he might try to use force against her.

I'll be ready by then. Another week of working out, and I know I'll be able to handle him.

She stole through the corridors, this time staying more to the center, so not only wouldn't she be caught by an errant hand, but so she could get some vision into the cells she would pass. It was a Friday night, and the prisoners were more tired than usual, as they worked out hard to relieve the pent-up stress of having nowhere to go. Often she wondered about the morality of making them aware of which day of the week it was, but she also knew their victims would take great satisfaction at the continual reminder of the lack of opportunity they had.

She made her way up two levels, crouching several times in the shadows as a guard would pass by. She not only had to contend with the surveillance cameras and their movement cycle, but with the unpredictable nature of the guards around her. Only two were on at night, but they hated each other, so they tended to walk more than the others. She also had to make sure she was out before the euals began their patrol, and they were much more systematic than the guards. A few times she stopped as noise issued from a cell near her. Grunts and groans told her that a few other prisoners were loose, with the guards' consent.

More shit to watch out for.

Finally, after a full hour and a half, she was in a small, tight hallway she had never been in before. The Isolation Ward was the one place counselors were forbidden to go. Slowly, she made her way paste each of the five doors, finally spying John lying in the last.

"John?" she whispered low. She heard the rustling of covers, and his bare feet on the floor.

"Elaine?" He came slowly to the door of the cell on his knees, appearing tired even in the darkness. "What're you doin' here?"

"I was worried about you. You weren't in sickbay, and no one told me where you were. Are you . . . are you alright?"

"I'm gettin' there," he groaned as he leaned against the bars of the cell. "They'd shake me outta bed, pour ice water over me, and then beat where they beat me before. Then the next night they'd—"

" _Don't_ , John," she whispered, forcing herself to hold back tears. "You need to put it behind you, if you want to forget."

"I don't _ever_ want to forget!" he cried in a loud whisper, so much so that Elaine instinctively crouched down lower, hunting for a shadow to disappear into. "You have no idea what I went through, what they did to me. I can honestly say that I'm lucky to be alive. I actually think they were surprised that I still lived, after what they did. I have bruises on me that will never go away . . . I know I did some bad things, but one day, they shall pay. We will summon the strength, and with valiant strides we shall crush them, and restore . . . restore . . ."

Elaine moved closer. "What are you saying?"

"I . . . I don't know." She could see him shake his head in confusion. "It's like I did know, but have forgotten."

Elaine had heard him spout off typical comic-book clichés, but that sentence hung in her mind, as if it came from another source.

"But for the first time," continued John, as if he were confessing his soul, "I feel like I _can_ remember. They did something, when they tortured me, that they didn't expect. They pushed me so hard, that it broke something within me—just not what they expected. I can feel . . . a kernel, a core of strength, of fury within me. I am focused like I never have been before, and with each passing hour, I grow more confident, more emboldened."

"You need to keep that to yourself, John. Don't let them see strength. Let them think they've broken you, and—"

"I can't _do_ that, Lainey! I can't, I won't play the fool any longer! I am a man, and I deserve my dignity, my honor, my self-respect!"

"But you also know when an enemy has the advantage." She didn't know why, but she knew he would understand a military analysis of the situation, better than anything else. "You are behind enemy lines, with no weapons, no transport, and right now, no hope for escape. You want to get stronger? Then you need time to heal, and to do that, you need to disguise yourself. Blend in. For if they smell the faintest whiff of strength, of nobility, they will redouble their efforts to break you."

"I . . . I _cannot_ be broken, Lainey. That's something I learned about myself."

"Then you will survive playing the fool, a little while longer. So you can grow even stronger, understand even more."

John smiled, and nodded. "You're a smart one, Elaine, and I shall consider your counsel."

She sat back on her legs, letting out a small sigh of relief. "When are they letting you out?"

"In a few days," he said, moving back to a small mat on the floor. He kneaded his shoulder, and she could see that it was at one time dislocated. She gazed at him in awe of the extreme pain he suffered through, physically and mentally, and yet his ability to remain sane. She felt he would be not only a perfect soldier, but a great leader, as not only would he inspire men to follow him, but he would take the point in any assault, any charge. "Sure will be nice to stand up again. Sure will be nice to see you again." He yawned, and Elaine moved slowly away.

_What is it, about this place, about these people?_ she thought to herself, as she descended quickly to the second level. _I know what's wrong, but it's like my mind won't tell me what it is._

She moved more efficiently than when she ascended, as one of the guards needed to relieve himself. As she descended to the second level, and began to work her way around to the next stairwell, something in her bid her to be still. After her recent experiences, she knew now to listen to that inner voice, and she did. She sat on her knees, for a moment being utterly silent—not only in her motion, her breathing, but even in her thoughts. In that moment, her entire self was silent, listening, watching, waiting.

Then she shifted slightly back into the shadow. She was crouched next to the small triangle the stairs made as they intersected the floor—only enough shadow to fully hide her legs. But she pressed against the wall anyway, as she heard the footsteps descend the stairs. She didn't look up, for it was as if she knew exactly who it was. As he rounded the bottom, she subtly turned her body, leaning forward one second, pressing back and down the next, in perfect response to his line of sight. The guard walked on, completely oblivious to her presence.

Damned lucky.

She knew she should move on, but now the thrill, the excitement was in her, and she stealthily followed him. She didn't have far to go, for in a few moments a cell door opened. She crouched down two cells away, and listened.

"A little late, aren't you?" said an effeminate male voice, one she recognized as Luke's. "I was starting to get worried."

"Yeah, well, even I got things to do," replied a voice she knew to be Colin's. "Now come on—take 'em off."

"Where's my stuff?"

Colin cursed under his breath, as she could hear a packet being thrown on the floor.

"Satisfied?"

"Not yet, lover."

She heard the rustle of clothing and the groan of the men as they started. Normally not one to be the voyeur, something in her again made her stay, until it was done.

"That's right, you take it all Sarah!" yelled Colin, as he grunted even harder. "Fucking smug bitch! Take it all . . ."

She heard more clothes rustling, then the opening of the cell door. She desperately wanted to move away, back in the shadows, but again something bid her stay.

"Sure would be funny if your wife learned about this."

"Yeah," chuckled Colin, "you go tell her the minute you get out."

"Why do you wanna fuck Sarah anyway? Ain't she a little old and dried-up for you?"

"Yeah," said Colin wistfully, "I suppose so. I just fuckin' hate women who think they're better than men. I mean, at least Lainey knows 'er place. She might get riled up once in a while, but we slam 'er down, and she goes quiet as a damned mouse. But that fuckin' bitch Sarah, goin' around screwin' Michael in front of everyone's face, then actin' like she's Holis, well, I'd just love to get her in a cell and make her cry and scream."

"I'll bet you'd even kill her, wouldn't you?"

Colin was quiet for a moment. "Damned right," he said in a low voice.

"You are one sick bastard, but I guess that's why I want you so," said Luke.

Elaine knew the time had come, and she scurried quickly and quietly to an alcove a few meters away. As she tucked herself in, she heard the cell door close, and Colin moving up the stairwell.

_Knowledge is a prize worth any cost to attain, my friends_ , she thought to herself as she moved down the stairs. She was on the final corridor leading to the exit, when a voice summoned her.

"Lainey?"

She turned, and it was coming from Ronald's cell. She moved over cautiously, scanning the area all around.

"What're you doin' back in here?"

"I had to make sure John was alright. What do you want?"

There was a moment of silence in reply before he came closer to the bars.

"Do you trust me?"

"This is a _prison_ , Ronald," she said flatly. The one thing she knew was when to remind the prisoners of reality. "It's difficult to trust someone who has done something to belong behind these bars."

"I know . . . I know, but well, you just seem different. And sometimes, when I look in your eyes, I think I see a kindred spirit."

She glanced around her again. "I need to move off, Ronald. The euals will be coming on soon, and the last thing I need is to be caught in here."

"I know, I know. Can I just show you that you can trust me?"

"How?" she asked, bewildered. The cell door opened in reply. "You're . . . how long has that been unlocked?"

"Something's wrong with the mechanism. It unlocks midway through the night. I discovered it a few months ago, but never told anyone."

She thought back to the previous night when she came to visit him—when he held her hand.

"So you see Lainey, I could've jumped on you that night. But I didn't, because I . . . I really cherished that moment."

_Cherish?_ she thought to herself. _Damn these prisoners come from all different backgrounds._

"Yes, I _cherished_ it, Lainey. I don't expect anything from you. All you need to know, is if you're back in here again, after dark, and you need a place to hide, I'll gladly let you in."

She glanced up into his eyes, and saw he was sincere. For a moment she forgot who he was, and saw a warm soul reaching out to her.

"Thank you, Ronald. I can't tell you how much that means to me." She reached out her hand, and he held it, gently.

"Now you move on back, Lainey. I'll be thinking of you."
Chapter 8

After a fitful two hours of sleep, Elaine woke to the news that all groups were canceled, as maintenance had to be done on the air purification system. She spent a long, boring day filing paperwork and cleaning her desk. Michael hung around her for a lot of the earlier part, moaning and groaning about Sarah, saying how he thought she was lying about him to Todd. He made mention several times that he knew her password into the computer files, and was just waiting for the chance to take a look at them.

Through the day her mind kept lingering on Ronald. Something in his touch, in his smile, captivated and intrigued her. She couldn't remember the last time she had feeling for a man—in her more depressed moments, she wondered if she didn't prefer the company of other women. Maybe it was the danger, maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, but she daydreamed for a few moments of being with him, locked in his cell, as he ravaged her.

There was a danger of succumbing to the temptation of the caged beast that she was made aware of in her first weeks at the prison. No matter how moral a person, no matter how confident and focused, one could always be touched by the sight of caged fury. Only now did she fully appreciate the sentiment, for as she thought on Ronald's eyes that hung as twin pearls in the darkness of his cell she felt the danger and the lust, the excitement of being near someone who had murdered, or raped, or tortured innocents. She saw Ronald as a wolf yearning to be free, a terrible force of nature and instinct, a beast still with its claws, ready to pounce, and strike. The days that were so clinically sterile before now became laced with passion and romance, with desire and danger. Her heart finally beat in her chest, and she could feel its strength, and knew it to be right.

A more pressing problem was how she would gain access into the prison from now on. She couldn't spare many more panties for Philip, and she was loathe to lead him on. By the scheduled rotation, Colin was supposed to take over, and while she knew he would be spending some time with Luke, he would be at his post most of the time. For a moment she debated about giving him something of Sarah's but he was one of the last people she would trust.

Then her eyes were drawn, after lunch, to the euals working on the purification unit.

Could I really make it through the air ducts? Isn't that too clichéd to work?

Elaine bit into Michael's boastings, and watched as he used Sarah's password to sign into the computer. After humoring Michael for an hour as he poured through confidential file after file, she went back to her desk and used Sarah's password to sign in. For most of the day she rummaged through the plans of the prison on her computer, going over where the ducts led. It was a deceptively massive complex, built with low ceilings and tight corridors, but in fact possessing a great deal of empty space between the rooms. Though she thought it was a new building by the look of the fixtures and furniture, it was in fact converted from an old federal facility. While there were no plans of the original layout, after examining the plans repeatedly, she got a sense of what probably existed there before.

_I'll bet this was an administration facility. Where we counselors live, was probably storage space for equipment. The cells actually are the center of the complex, a building built within another. Around them were all the offices—hundreds probably, organized like some trapezoid around the empty space where the prison is._ She took a look closely at the path between her suite and the prison block, and found the air purification system was separate for both sections. While it was wide enough to accommodate a person, the exhaust vent exited just in front of the main checkpoint to enter the cells. _Well, that's at least smart of them—no prisoner could use it to escape._ She looked at the electrical routing, and found it also was separate for both sections, so if power went off in one, it would remain in the others, to power the main security doors. _Good design also. Both emergency generators are on opposite sides of the complex, so no one could knock out power for the entire facility at once._ She turned to the sewage system, rifling through to one of the older plans. _Ahhh . . . they kept the original sewer lines, and added on new ones to lead into the prison. I knew somewhere, someone would want to save some money._ She found a main sewer line connected the entire prison, running under the civilian quarters, under the entire cell block, and emptying out into a main tank some fifty meters from the prison. _For a prisoner to get out, they'd have to rip out an entire toilet, and they would only survive the fall from the lower level._ She leaned back in frustration, after looking at the dimensions of the pipe itself. _That's barely wider than my shoulders! Even if I could access it and find an exit point, I'd be completely covered in shit._

As the day came to a close, and she made her way out of the Hub, the architecture of the building kept drawing her eye. She saw bulges where there were none in the plans, saw whole spaces concealed behind walls also not in the plans. _There must be more that they're hiding. And if there's something back there, it must be able to be accessed from somewhere in here._

Over the next two days she re-created the plans from memory. She found she had an excellent memory, and scaled down the plans for each floor so they fit in her pocket. She then drew in the new additions, making note of locked doors that could possibly lead out. It was then she noticed that all those mystery doors had a camera directly overhead.

Isaac.

A few days later, as she was debating with herself as to how to handle Isaac, she paused at a window overlooking the recreation area in a section of the Hub. The men seemed small, yet vicious to her, like a swarm of piranhas darting back and forth, aching to feast. The curious thing was that for the first time, she saw that while they were vicious beasts, they seemed to default into a discernable group, with the strongest and most aggressive hovering around the perimeter, as if the prisoners were unconsciously protecting themselves. Something within her knew this was how true piranhas lived, grouping in schools not to hunt and attack, but primarily for protection.

Why am I thinking of fish?

She shook off her societal observations, as her eyes drifted and hung on Ronald. She saw him playing a smaller version of soccer with a few of the other men his age. He moved quickly, his limbs still made up of dense muscle. He moved with a certain grace that Elaine found very appealing.

I can't believe I'm thinking about breaking into a prison, to sleep with a prisoner. Is this what my life has become?

"Enjoying the show?"

She was startled by the man next to her.

"No, Tannis," she replied, composing herself. "Just thinking over some things."

Tannis was, by far, the most curious member of the prison staff. A man in his late forties that moved as if he was in his early sixties, he usually had a cigarette in his mouth and eyes the color of the alarm chime: red and bloodshot. He interacted infrequently with the counselors, preferring to patrol the perimeter or the neglected areas of the facility.

"It's an odd group of fools we have here, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she nodded absently. She never liked Tannis, but then, she never fully disliked him. She knew Isaac did most of the criminal activities, while Tannis did most of the underhanded beatings. But he knew his job, and a few times he even helped her out of a tough scrape with a prisoner. Often she would see him hanging back as his guards would take care of a situation. She would see his eyes scanning the area, watching those just outside the fray. A part of Elaine knew he might be the most dangerous of guards, for in a time of crisis, he would have the level head, and be able to respond with a well-thought out strategy.

"You ever notice that Matthew clique?" he asked, gesturing over to where Matthew sat on a bench, seemingly alone.

"What do you mean?"

"Who's around him?"

"Isn't that Mark, sitting against the wall behind him?"

"Yup. And on the other side is Luke, taunting the guys playing soccer. And near him is John, freshly released from solitary."

She watched for a few more moments, seeing how they never strayed far from one another. A couple of times Mark would say something to Matthew, who would appear to be making a decision, then say something back. Mark would nod deferentially, and then sit back down.

"I thought everyone hated Matthew?"

"Outside of the rec area, everyone does. But in there, that's how it always plays out. A few speak directly to Matthew, and when they do, it's like they're speaking to their boss. The other prisoners walk past and don't even touch Matthew, whereas outside, in the cafeteria, they beat on him. And those four people—Matthew, Luke, Mark and John, always stay near each other in the rec area. Outside, they barely speak to one another."

Elaine became genuinely fascinated by his observations, at the same time, wondering if he ever watched her.

How much do my motions betray myself? Who do I always speak to, and how would it look to someone watching me?

"Ain't it your turn to give that stupid speech to all the cons?"

Elaine snapped her fingers. "I keep forgetting! How is it you remember anyway?"

"Nothing better than watching good people make total fools of themselves."

"You like to watch, don't you?"

Tannis lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. "It's funny, how much one learns from a distance – as an outsider. How many other people are in the same position I'm in—to watch over a society, almost as an outsider that can't be seen? Whenever I get camera duty from Isaac, I sit all day and just watch."

"Ever think of becoming a sociologist?"

He shook his head, as he let out a cloud of smoke. "They won't let you in those schools, when you've done what I've done. I may not be locked in, like them, but I'm a prisoner all the same—a prisoner of my poor decisions. I may not deal in drugs like Isaac and the others, but I've been there. I only wish I had someone who would've told me what I was doing would hurt me in so many ways."

"If only they felt the same way," she said, motioning to the prisoners, who now were being called back in from the rec area, as if they were still in elementary school. "None of them feel remorse over what they did, none of them even think of how their victims felt."

"You _remember_ that, Lainey," he said with a stern face. He dropped the cigarette on the floor, and ground it to shreds with the heel of his boot. "Some of them can be real nice and sweet, say just what you wanna hear. But these are the best of the best—so many of them conned their way into people's hearts, only to literally cut them out and eat them before their eyes. They have no remorse for killing anyone—they certainly have no remorse for lying to and using someone. You remember _that_ , Lainey."

He moved off, and she felt stung to her core by his words. But now it had turned into a challenge, and she felt as if she were in a human game of chess played with an unseen opponent. As she returned to her office, and prepared for her group, her mind wouldn't give it up.

I can't use the sewers, can't get into the doors because of the cameras, and even if I could, who's to say where they would lead? I can't make it past Colin, 'cause I can't bribe him with anything and still trust him.

She was still thinking to herself, still debating her options as she conducted her group. Luke was a temporary addition, as Simon was sick. She struggled not to look at him too close or probe too deeply as a result of what she heard.

"Alright, so let's do some rhyming," she stated, in a chipper voice. "I'd like each of you to take this crayon and paper, and write out four lines that rhyme. I'd like you to write about something nobody else knows, but that you'd like to share with the group. And we all know the rules! No bad words, no writing about what bad things you may have done in the past. You have five minutes!"

As they wrote, Elaine couldn't help glancing at Ronald, who would carefully steal a glance at her and smile. Blake was overseeing her group now, and she knew he was the last person to trust, so she kept her smiles and nods brief and quick. The prisoners moved like molasses, so she gave them an extra minute.

"Alright, I think that's all we can give. Now, John, why don't you start."

" _Wherever I go, whatever I do_

I feel like my feet are stuck in glue

you went so far away

my love, my sweet dog with which I played."

Elaine gritted her teeth, struggling not to laugh at how bad it was.

"That's very good John. I think we all can relate, as many of us have had pets that we loved a great deal. Ronald, why don't you go next?"

" _Blue and yellow, pink and light_

soft and mellow in a distant haze

the morning sky beckons with sweet delight

to take me from these lazy days."

"Nice also Ronald . . . about a vacation?"

"Yes, one I took a long time ago."

"Good, good. Well Luke, let's hear yours."

" _I hide myself in shadow and mist_

debating whether I still exist

they see me love, they see me sex

_and yet they know not whom I need best._ "

"Hmmm . . ." she said, thinking on Luke for a moment longer. "Very interesting."

She went through the rest of their poems, and then decided to have one on one conferences on one side of the room. As she made her way through the prisoners, she devised a plan. When Luke sat in front of her for his conference, she leaned in close.

"I see you have Colin's eye."

"You could say that," he said, a little confused. Luke crossed his legs tightly and smoothed his hair, preening for an unseen mirror. It was slightly comical to watch for Elaine, as he was tall with lean, firm muscles. His face was like chiseled granite, with a square jaw and deep-set blue eyes. He looked like a Titan of old trying to wear a dress, but she knew better than to let even the hint of a snicker come out. "Why do you ask?"

"I need a favor."

He crossed his arms with a haughty expression of disdain. "What's that?"

"I need you to get Colin to let a prisoner walk out of the cellblock."

Luke guffawed, and Blake glanced over. " _Why_ would _I_ do _that_?"

She crossed her arms, undeterred. "What do you want?"

Luke looked her up and down. "You don't have anything _I_ need."

"Come on . . . money? Drugs? What does Colin pay you?"

"None of your business. Are we done?"

She sat back and sighed, and as she was about to respond, she saw his face in a different light. He held his head proudly, as if, though tormented, he would never break. His eyes seemed to be those of a predator, his mouth curled in an expression of vengeance and hate.

"You . . . you don't like being with men, do you?"

He turned towards her, his face shifting like a chameleon in the moonlight.

"Why do you say that? You won't hear any complaints from Colin, or anyone else for that matter."

As much as a part of her wanted to give up and settle down for the usual routine of the day, she couldn't, and wouldn't. She racked her brain the rest of the night, and finally the next morning she had a solution. She worked out again in the recreation yard, this time near Matthew.

"Hello Matthew."

"Hello Elaine."

Luke, Mark and John hovered nearby, until Matthew dismissed them with a nod of his head. Elaine sat down next to him.

"You know, everyone here calls me Lainey."

"Why? Sounds like some whiny version of a proud name."

She nodded, as she never thought of it like that. She always hated the name 'Lainey,' yet always felt it prudent not to correct the guards or prisoners, either of whom were substantially larger than her.

"That's true. Listen Matthew, I was wondering if you would do me a favor."

"You want me to talk to Luke for you?"

"How did you know?"

"He told me of your conversation, and I saw you watching us the other day with Tannis. Tannis is a very bright man, one who is quite observant—for a guard. You know the question I would ask?"

She readied herself for the inevitable question. "What's in it for you?"

"Yes. Why would I ask Luke to overextend himself like that? Jeopardize a comfortable relationship?"

"I can't answer you. You seem like the type who wouldn't care about drugs, cigarettes, or extra food. What would you want? I confess . . . I am at a disadvantage. I am quite serious that I want this accomplished, and I know you to be my only hope."

He turned to face her, and for a moment, she became disoriented. For some reason a sense of déjà-vu overcame her, as if she had seen him somewhere before and not in a prison uniform.

"Hope is a funny word—especially in here," said Matthew. "We exist in a curious state of opposites, where we aren't broken, yet not encouraged, either. Have you been in many prisons, Elaine?

"No, I can't say I have."

"But then, you wouldn't remember even if you had."

She nodded. "True."

"I have been in a prison before. My memory may not be whole, but I distinctly remember the experience. It was a dirty, disgusting place that reeked of excrement and urine. But more than that, it was a place where the souls of men were ground to dust. The guards, the wardens, worked with the stronger prisoners to keep the population broken and wasted. They allowed drugs to get in, so prisoners wouldn't escape, yet whenever one got too full of himself, the guards would break him down. 'Rape' lost all its negative connotations, as the law of kill or be killed prevailed. The longer one stayed there, the more likely they were to die there."

"It doesn't sound too much unlike this place."

"This place? This place is a paradise in comparison. Oh, we have our Blakes and Isaacs, our addicts and rapists. But everything here is so . . . orderly, in comparison. Great care is taken so no one gets too damaged."

His words rung true to her. "Why do you think?"

"It's all about hope, Elaine. I feel . . . I feel as though someone hasn't given up on us, that we are being kept in a stasis here, unchanging, keeping our small morsels of hope intact."

"But . . . but you're all murders and sociopaths, liars and rapists and thieves! Why would anyone do that for you?"

"Why would a counselor bargain with an inmate? Those are questions I cannot answer, for I don't have all the information. But I do know a little more than you." He leaned back, nodding to himself. She knew she had seen him do this a hundred times before, and it always presaged a task she wouldn't like doing. "So, you asked for a form of payment? Then here it is: you need to look in the mirror. I will get Luke to do as you ask, but you need to look in the mirror for ten minutes each and every night for the next two weeks. After those two weeks, come back to me, and tell me what you see."

Elaine reeled, utterly confused. "Why?"

"More questions that you should be searching for answers for. And ease off the stims – they do nothing for your complexion. Reduce your dosage to one every other day."

For an instant, she bristled at his tone, as the last thing she wanted to do was take advice or orders from a prisoner. "What are you, my doctor?"

"If you want my help, you'll do as I say. All will either be made clear, or not. _That_ is to be determined after the two weeks."

She passed a message to Ronald the next day, and that night she sat up, waiting.

_Why does he want me to look in the mirror?_ She went into her bathroom and turned on the light. She stood in front of the mirror, doing as she had done earlier, and examined herself. Her eyebrows arched, maybe a little more than the average woman's, yet were thin and black. Her nose was not too thin, not too full, and had a long, even curve from her eyebrow to her nostril. Her lips had a fullness, a ripeness, that still could be enchanting even with her years.

What does he want me to look at?

She heard a knock at her door, and her heart raced. She rushed into her living room and opened the door slowly. Ronald crept in, and she closed it carefully behind him.

"I can't believe you managed this!" he cried, as they embraced each other. "You really _do_ trust me?"

"I can't lie, Ronald," she said, motioning him to a chair. "I may not fully trust you, but . . . well, I need to try to trust someone."

He sat down carefully in one of her chairs—almost meekly, with his knees pressed together and his hands clasped over them.

"It's been a long time since I felt comfortable," he said with a smile. "I can't believe I'm here!"

She went into the kitchen, and came back in with a small tray. "Here's some tea and biscuits for you."

"Thank you, Lainey, thank you." He inhaled deeply of its vapors. "This certainly takes me back. So, what shall we talk of?"

"Well, what would we talk of, if we weren't in here?" asked Elaine.

"The war," he groaned, "I'll bet everyone speaks of the war."

"I'll bet they do." She leaned back. "No one in here speaks of it. It's like we're in some cocoon, isolated from the entire world."

"You mean, not even your colleagues talk it over with you?"

"We all have different . . . perspectives on things, and we don't often agree."

Ronald tried to be polite and refrain from eating, but it had been too long since he had something as delicate and sweet at the biscuits. He ate one with relish, and took a sip of his tea. "If there is one thing I miss about the outside world, it's speaking with someone with similar interests, an intelligent mind."

"I guess it's like the old saying—you don't appreciate what you have, until it's taken away."

He nodded his head, and they sat for a while, in silence.

"I wish I were better conversation," he said apologetically. "I just haven't been exposed to much of it in quite a while."

"I know. Honestly, it's just good to have someone here, someone I feel comfortable with."

He looked up at her clock. "Well, I better be getting back. Colin said this first time would be the test—he only gave me a half-hour, and if I wasn't back, he'd hunt me down and kill me. And somehow, I don't think that he was joking." They both stood, and she walked him to the door. "I'm so glad you trusted me, Elaine. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"And it feels good to trust someone, and not be let down." She held him, and he her, and they stood in each other's arms for a few moments.

"Good night, Elaine."

She pulled down his head, and kissed him on his cheek.

"Good night, Ronald."
Chapter 9

The next several days went in a similar manner, with Ronald visiting her for longer and longer periods. She looked forward to his arrival, even meticulously cleaning up her suite. They talked of the prison, the guards, the food and even the other doctors, once Elaine felt more comfortable with him. But more than anything, they sat in each other's company, drinking tea and listening to soft music.

One night Elaine even dared to fall asleep in his company. She was having a tough enough time anyway making it through the day on the reduced dosage Matthew suggested. When she woke, she started with fear as he wasn't in sight.

"Ronald?!" she said, almost in a scream. As quickly as she said his name, the flush of the toilet could be heard. Her shoulders sagged, as relief cooled her mind.

He came out warily. "Yes Elaine?"

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I just . . . I didn't see you."

"No, don't apologize – I know how you must feel." He knelt beside her, and held her hand gently. "I never want to cause you pain, Elaine." He kissed along her hand, and it was all she needed to succumb to temptation. She kissed him deeply, and in moments she felt his hands over her body. Her clothes came off, and he hungrily kissed her naked form, worshiping her in a way she had never known. He pleasured her with his hand, and she returned the favor, demurring from anything more. They lay for a few moments in bed, Elaine forgetting there were bars on his home.

"I need to leave."

"I know," she said, kissing him on his chest. "I'll see you later today."

"Are you getting enough sleep? You seem a little distracted in group. I mean, I can always nap during the day, while yours is filled with work."

She had been feeling the effects of their late-night rendezvous.

"Maybe since you are staying out later, we can go to every other day. That way I can get some good rest, and there will be less of a chance of you getting discovered."

He kissed her on her lips. "Sounds good to me."

The next day she spent in a daze, thoroughly exhausted. She was still anxious about sleeping with a prisoner, and though her adventurous side reveled in it, some other part of her knew better, and tormented her with doubt. When she got a message to meet with Todd, for a moment she was struck white with fear. Only after she calmed herself did she venture to his office.

As she walked in, she passed Mark, who was leaving. Something about his expression caught her eye, and made her even more suspicious and wary.

She had the presence of mind to enter the office calm, and focused. Her eyes scanned the room, and found Todd had been doing some housekeeping since her last visit. The stacks of books were now neatly arranged on new, white bookshelves. No longer did half-eaten meals litter the desk and floor, rather, a small silver gleaming wastebasket sat near his desk. Even Todd himself was neater and cleaner, clean-shaven, with a pressed, white button-down shirt on under an argyle knit vest. Classical music played faintly in the background, with the rise and fall of strings punctuated by the horn and drum, soothing her soul. For a moment she thought she was in a dean's office at a college, not a warden's office at a prison.

"Ah, Lainey, how good to see you again. Please, sit down."

"Thanks, Todd." She sat down carefully, and couldn't help but inhale a delicate, sweet fragrance that lingered over the room.

"Do you like it?"

"What?"

Todd brought out a small wooden box. "It's my new air purifier! Not only does it clean the air, but it emits this delectable fragrance. I fell in love with it when I first smelled it."

_I'm not here to be fired,_ she thought to herself. _But it's something serious, something he wants to be magnanimous about, to show his civility and humanity. I only hope I don't give him too much._

"I guess you're wondering why I called you here?" He sat with a smug smile, seeming as a spider in the center of a web she unluckily landed in.

"Yes, Todd, I am."

"Well, sometimes I am amazed at the things that go on in my little paradise."

She straightened her posture, and opened her senses up to him. She examined every wrinkle of his posture, every inflection of the words he used, waiting, searching for understanding.

"I mean, we sit in a virtual Eden! Everyone plays by the rules, and are severely punished if they don't. Order is paramount, and is evenly enforced. When I look down from my office on a hill, I see what the world should be—perfectly ordered, perfectly calm."

"This place is anything but calm, Todd."

"I know, I know! I'm just joshing with you, Lainey. We really need to get together more! Don't you ever wish you had an equal to talk to, to speak of things?"

"Yes, I guess I have."

"I mean, the other doctors are great and all, and I sure couldn't get along without Sarah! But Michael is such a bitter prick, Simon a vengeful sort, and Oliver, well, not even _you_ like Oliver."

And more and more I'm wondering why that is. Why don't they want me to like Oliver?

"You certainly do get around, though. I think you are seeing every aspect of our village, our collection of souls living in quiet harmony."

_This is about where I've been, not whom I've slept with._ "What do you mean?"

Todd grinned, and switched on a wide, thin monitor. Almost three dozen camera feeds came up from around the prison.

"You see, while I trust Isaac—I mean, no one loves his job more than he does—I do check up on things he might've missed. A shadow that seems to move, doors that open, if only for a fraction of a second. Shadows that seem to swell one moment then shrink the next. I have a very sophisticated algorithm that sorts through these feeds, cuing up every instance that falls outside the normal parameters. And you _have_ been falling outside the normal parameters."

"Have I?" she said weakly, feeling cornered.

"I know what you're thinking—how much does he know?" Todd drummed his fingers together, and leaned back a little in his chair which creaked loudly from his weight. "What has he seen, what has he heard? Well, what do you think I know?"

Elaine gritted her teeth, thinking back to her late-night excursions, her knowledge of where Colin would be, when he would turn his head. She emptied herself now, calmed her mind, and focused on Todd. She thought of nothing but him, and in moments, she decided.

"I went into the cells, one night, just to check up on Ronald. Colin beat him down pretty good one day. I know it was stupid, but I risked losing his trust that day, and if word spread I was complicit with the actions of the guards, we wouldn't get anything productive out of the groups. Don't blame Philip—I did bribe him, with something of mine. He's one of the only decent guards there are."

Todd nodded in silence, as he thought on her words.

"I'm glad you have told me everything, Lainey!" he cried with a wide smile, letting out a sigh of relief. "I never actually saw you move through the cells, but I did see you enter and leave. I'm sorry to have done this to you, but I _needed_ to know." He leaned forward. "You have a kind heart—just don't let it get you into trouble. I'm going to forgive this . . . trespass of my authority, of the boundaries of this place. But _don't_ let it happen again. If something were to happen to you, inside there, well, the guards would be merciless in their punishment. I know they seem cold and cruel to you, and you're right to think that. But they would beat on the prisoners simply because they could, because your injury gave them license to do so. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head contritely, folding her hands together in her lap. "Yes. Thank you, Todd."

"Oh, and I'll be watching you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

Todd shook his head in disbelief. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about the motivational speech?"

She gritted her teeth, utterly chagrined. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, seems like I'm always forgetting that."

"But it's the cornerstone of my efforts to improve the morale of our permanent guests! To come together, in fellowship, and listen to the words of those who have made it in this sorry excuse of as world. I expect great things of you Lainey – don't let me down."

"Yes Todd."

As she left the office, something about Mark's presence bothered her.

He doesn't have time to look at all the monitors, all the time. Even with an algorithm that would weed out the superfluous, he's too obsessed with his books and his food to be bothered, or Isaac and the other guards wouldn't be dealing in drugs and fucking prisoners. No, he was tipped off. The only question now is why Mark would do this?

The next day, as she worked out in the rec area, Matthew came to see her.

"Did you cut back on your stims? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

While she hadn't forgotten about his request, she didn't take it seriously enough to follow through on it.

"Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"And what? I see who I am—this woman with tired eyes and hair that's beginning to grey. What did you think I'd find?"

He turned away, visibly wounded and frustrated. "Elaine, just _do it_. Honor your word to me. I did as you asked; you _must_ do as I ask. I could've asked for a hundred different, vile things, but all I asked was that you examine yourself in your mirror for two weeks. You had faith in me – don't make me regret having faith in you."

She saw the sincere, earnest look in his eyes, and nodded. "Alright Matt, I'll do it."

"My name is Matthew. Just as your name isn't Lainey, so my name isn't Matt. "

He started to move away, but she grabbed his arm.

"Wait, Matthew, why would Mark be involved with Todd?"

"What?"

"He gave Todd information, about me. He left Todd's office just before he confronted me about it."

Matthew was silent, his expression long and distracted. "Just as I have asked you to look in the mirror, so I asked him, as well as others to do the same. Mark found nothing, even after two weeks." He opened his mouth, and was about to say more, but instead closed it, and shook his head. "No, you haven't paid my first debt yet. When you have paid me, in full, then we can talk about other matters."

She nodded, rising to leave, but Matthew grabbed her hand. Ordinarily a guard would have been on him in an instant, but none of the guards seemed to notice.

"I understand you have a speech to give tomorrow."

She looked at him, surprised.

"I find out all sorts of things, Elaine. I even know you're having trouble writing it."

She cautiously sat back down. "To be honest, I haven't even started. I don't know what to say – nothing I could say would influence these prisoners, one way or another."

"You'd be surprised. Just do what I ask, tonight, then sit down, and write your speech. Write it with your eyes half-open, almost asleep. Let your inner mind choose the words – don't analyze or censor them. Trust me, you'll know what to say, when the time comes. Just have faith."

"In you?"

"No, in someone infinitely more important; you."

As she rose to leave, she thought on her choice of words.

It's almost as if I've stopped thinking of Matthew as a prisoner. I know it's dangerous to think that way, that it goes against everything I've been taught, trained to do, but somehow, it just feels right, and I think it's time I started trusting my instincts.

Late that night, she had just finished brushing her teeth, and had washed out her mouth, and was about to turn away, when she remembered his words.

Don't make me regret having faith in you.

_Fine,_ she thought to herself. She stood before the mirror, and looked not at her hair, or her lips, but deep into her eyes. The steam had just faded from her shower but mist still filled the room, and it gently softened her features, making her appear years younger. She slowed down her breathing and focused on that image in the mirror, as she focused on Todd earlier in the day. She ignored the doubts which assaulted her, telling her this was too stupid and a waste of time. Instead she slowed her breath even more, and distanced her mind from her body.

Then it happened.

"What was that?!" she yelled out loud, as she backed away from the mirror. For a moment, her image shifted, and another image replaced it, of her, but dressed in different clothes, wearing a completely different expression. _The woman I saw is me, yet not me, as if she were some other aspect of myself_. Her mind felt on fire, and it was then she remembered about the speech she must write.

Alright Matthew, I'll try it your way.

She sat down, with pen and paper, in the near-darkness, and began to write. Her hand moved furiously across the paper, writing sentence after sentence, not once stopping to correct spelling, punctuation, or phrasing. And after fifteen minutes of writing, she flopped on her bed, turned off the light, and went to sleep, as suddenly she was very, very tired.

What felt like an hour later, her alarm sounded, and she fumbled around before finding the 'off' button.

_I sure wish I had a room with a window. At least then I could feel what time it is._ She groggily made her toilet, ending up standing over the sink, reaching for her bottle of stims. _I sure am going to need these today_. She opened the bottle, shook out two pills, but hesitated before taking them. Glancing at her reflection, she didn't think her complexion was getting any better, but her mind seemed clearer, and more focused. _Maybe Matthew was right after all_. She dropped them back in the bottle, and closed the lid tightly.

She dressed quickly, choosing the most formal dress she had. Once finished she sat down at her small table and flipped through the sheets of paper she had written the night before. The writing was quick and sloppy, but legible. A good portion was written in shorthand that surprisingly she was able to read. A few phrases jumped out at her, shocking her mind, sending it into a sentimental fog. A loud knock at her door shook her back into the present.

"You ready, Lainey?" yelled Michael.

"Yeah, hold on." She yanked up her briefcase, jammed in the papers, and opened the door. "What, you thought I might try to skip out?"

Michael smirked in reply. "You've been known to do worse. It's been your turn for far too long. Now come on—they should be filing in the last of 'em. Did you take a stim or two?"

Elaine glanced back at her bathroom, with the unopened bottle sitting on the sink. She nodded to Michael with a smile.

"Yeah, sure did!"

The Hub was turned into an auditorium, and in it was seated the entire prison population. Elaine strode through the seats filled with inmates, up to the podium in front. Every counselor had to give one motivational speech each quarter, and Elaine had been stalling with hers. She hated doing this, hated being in front of people—especially as one of the only two women in the entire facility. She could feel most of the inmates already undressing her with their eyes; their mouths hung open as drops of spittle dribbled down their shirts.

Slowly she pulled out her papers, and arranged the on the podium. Todd sat nearby, just behind her, and she could feel his eyes trained on the figure that hid beneath her dress.

She cleared her throat, and began.

"So . . . today, we're going to, or rather _I'm_ going to, talk to you about . . . what it means to be positive." She took a deep breath, as she could hear the chairs creak before her, and isolated chatter drift among the crowd. Colin banged his blackjack against a metal pole, and they soon went quiet again.

"So . . . how can we be positive, in an environment that doesn't reward positive behavior? Well, one must first take a look at why one is being positive." She lost her place for a moment, and fumbled through the pages to find the correct one. "Sorry about that!" she said with a weak chuckle. "Anyway, as I was saying, why are, or should we, be positive?" She glanced out into the crowd, finding she had almost no one's attention. Ronald gazed on her, but his eyes hung just below her neck. Matthew though was glued to her eyes, and his gaze was of iron and steel.

"What does it mean to be selfless?" she asked, her voice gaining confidence. The change in her voice echoed the change in which the words were written on the paper. It was as if the handwriting changed, the farther down she wrote, and as it changed, so her whole demeanor changed as well. "What does it mean to do for others, to contribute to the welfare of a society, instead of its detriment?" Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist, her back straightened, her brow lowered as her mouth spread into an engaging yet serious grin. "To answer that, we must go to the mother of all questions: why do we live? What is our purpose? Is it a selfish one, to live for ourselves, or is it a generous one, to live for the community? And if one is isolated from the community, how can one still offer benefit?" She clenched the front of the podium, and leaned forward, her eyes summoning the attention of all before her. "I submit that one must be selfish, to benefit the community. One must bring happiness to oneself, and if one does this, without hurting another, then the community will reflect the sum of that joy." She pushed the papers away, feeling, knowing what to say, as if she had said it hundreds of times before. "We live in difficult times! We know not what happens outside our doors, if our friends still live, if our enemies have consumed all we held dear. So we can do nothing but be selfish. We must exult in our own life! Some would say that the negation of activity, the malaise that makes men sulk in their cells and refuse to eat, would be a vital form of protest against the jailers. I say no! I say that one must prove to oneself, and to others, that no matter the circumstance, no matter the oppression, no matter the limits of freedom, that one still lives, and lives well! That one can find joy in the most depressed of circumstances, that one can find happiness even after a baton strike! For if one can do this, if one can remain positive and focused, joyful and alive, then there is no jail that can hold his self, no jailer that can break his soul! He will be of the eternal, of the divine, and shall transcend his meager situation, and be _alive_!"

The crowd bolted to their feet in applause—each and every one. They were consumed in her words, in her thoughts, and could do nothing less. Even Colin and Isaac, who stood guard on the perimeter, were utterly shocked not only by the response of the inmates, but by the strength and conviction in Elaine's words.

But no one was more shocked than Elaine. She stepped down, and hurried back to her suite, flipping on the light in her bathroom, and gazing into her mirror, tears streaming down her face.

Who am I? Who am I?!

She banged on the mirror, again and again, until it shattered under the force of her blows. The pieces cascaded into the sink, taking some of her blood with them. One long, triangular shard still hung in the wooden frame, and in it, three aspects of Elaine could be seen.

" _You need to watch yourself!"_

She whirled around, hearing a woman's voice speaking to her, but could find no source. She ran out into her living room, then threw open the door, and glanced down the hallway, seeing only a few euals going about their regular routine. She closed the door, and sat on her sofa.

_I do need to watch myself. I'm learning . . . something, about who I truly am, and it isn't what they want me to do._ She thought back on her speech, how right it felt to be behind the podium, rallying the faithful seated before her. _I need to keep a journal. I need to write down the aspects of who I might be._ She suddenly felt a weight on her mind, a pressure distracting her. She sat back into the cushions, closing her eyes, as the pressure grew more intense, and pain throbbed behind her eyes. She felt nauseous, as the pain came and went in terrible waves. A part of her wanted to run out of the room, and seemed to instinctively be drawn to the cafeteria. But it hurt even to breathe, much less think, and her entire consciousness shut down for a time. Eventually it passed, and she lay down, slipping into a deep sleep that seemed to erase all her concerns and worries.

She sat in the cafeteria the next day for breakfast, surrounded by the other counselors. She was at peace again, blissfully ignorant of her distress the day before. Aside from fielding a few compliments for a couple of inmates, she had all but forgotten that she even gave a speech.

They spoke about some new suicide protocols the government was issuing to the prisons.

"Must've had the wrong person off himself," quipped Michael, as he dug into his food. "All it takes is the wrong person's relative to off himself while some dimwit guard is watching football, and we all hafta pay."

"Yeah," chimed Sarah, "I'll bet it was just when they scored, that the guy did it, too. I'll even bet the guard saw him on the monitor and thought 'hmmm . . . do I miss this score, or try to save some dick that killed a dozen people?'"

"Yeah," chuckled Michael in agreement. He and Sarah had reconciled with each other, and rumor had it that they now spent the nights with each other behind locked doors.

"All I know is that it's insulting," said Simon. "I mean, we all have advanced degrees, and some idiot behind some damned desk is telling me I oughta look for signs of depression? I mean, number one, they're fucking prisoners! Who wouldn't be depressed? Number two, who gives a shit if they off themselves! I mean, think about how much we pay in taxes to fucking feed and clothe them? If it were me, I'd gas the whole lot."

"Yeah, we know Michael, we know," said Sarah. She glanced over at Elaine. "What's wrong Lainey? You haven't touched your ham."

"I . . . I don't know," she replied, suddenly feeling groggy. "I'm just tired, and the damned Manipulator's malfunctioning again."

"No it isn't," said Oliver cheerfully. "My ham's never looked better!"

"You always had problems with the Manipulator, didn't you Lainey?" asked Todd, as he made a rare appearance in the cafeteria. The prisoners all stared at him as he plopped down in a special seat brought for him, to accommodate his bulk. "Maybe you have too strong a mind."

"Lainey—a strong mind?" jeered Isaac, as he sat next to Todd. "I just don't think so."

Todd adjusted his bulk for comfort, as Colin brought him a drink of water. "That was quite an . . . interesting speech you gave, for the prisoners."

"Yeah, quite a surprise," mumbled Michael.

"Really?" asked Elaine. "I don't really remember it. Still, I'm glad I wasn't a total embarrassment."

Todd harrumphed, and took a sip of water. "Don't remember it? Why, how could I forget some of your words! You became quite eloquent, near the end. How did it go? . . . 'no jailer that can break his soul! He will be of the eternal, of the divine, and shall transcend his meager situation, and be alive.' I must say, those are some _powerful_ words."

"I . . . I said that?" She was suddenly confused, as her mind swooned under the weight of memory. "I _think_ I remember."

"Well, at least you _finally_ got your speech out of the way—I was getting worried about you!" Sarah patted Elaine's hand, and gave a wide, fake smile. "So, what brings you two down here? Isn't this a lot like putting all your eggs in one basket? Who would run the show if a riot would happen . . . Tannis?"

"Tannis is a good man, but Blake would be better suited," grumbled Isaac. "I always told you we should've promoted him instead of Tannis."

"I like balance in my village, and something like that would surely tip things a certain way," said Todd, with a knowing glance at Isaac. "Now, as to why we're here, well, I thought it might do us some good to have an informal meeting."

The counselors groaned.

"Why do you need to ruin a perfectly awful morning with another dull meeting?" demanded Sarah. "What could we possibly need to talk about?"

Isaac leaned forward. "Blake tells me that word is out that a prisoner has a gun."

"A gun?" cried Colin in a loud whisper, glancing around fearfully at the prisoners. "How'd that happen? Who could possibly have smuggled it in, and how?"

"Oh, there are ways," said Todd, leaning back. "Maybe inside a can of protein paste, maybe stuck deep in laundry powder. How it got here is irrelevant compared to who has it and what will they do with it. I feel that the group session would be the perfect time for a prisoner to assert himself."

"We _can't_ get rid of the _groups_!" cried Sarah. "We'll fall out of compliance with the government regs."

"And what would they do?" retorted Isaac. "Shut us down? Or maybe they'll get rid of you docs—now that would _really_ be a shame."

"Then who would you have to push around?" demanded Elaine, with hatred in her eyes. "None of us weak little women to act a big man in front of."

"Dammit Lainey, I oughta—"

"Keep your mouth shut?" ventured Todd. "You're absolutely right, Isaac, you should keep your mouth shut. Now, what I was going to suggest, is that we cut down on the number of prisoners in the groups. That way the guard can do a more thorough search. There will be no more bathroom breaks during sessions. Isaac will be heading up a systematic search of the cells. We will be rotating prisoners into solitary, so their cells can be searched. We will find the gun, and severely punish whomever is found to be keeping it."

Todd went on, speaking about the necessity of looking for clues in group sessions, and Elaine grew a little bored. She let her eyes wander around the cafeteria, and was amazed at how many of the prisoners' eyes were focused on Todd. _He's authority_ , she thought to herself. _No matter if he's never hurt a prisoner, to them, he is the symbol of a system that caught them, tried them, and took away their lives_. Her eyes wandered around the perimeter and she caught the gaze of Matthew. He motioned to her, picking up an empty bowl and gesturing to the line. She watched as he slowly stood and made his way over to the line. She stood up, and grabbed her bowl.

"I thought you weren't hungry?" asked Sarah, as she moved away.

"Yeah, well, now I am. And that stuff tastes awful once it's cold."

She moved quickly, and got in line behind Matthew.

"Did you do it?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, I did."

"And?"

"I . . . I can't explain."

"Look down, into the glass."

She looked at her reflection in the spill-guard over the food, and was shocked into silence. For a brief moment, two different faces looked back at them. Then, as she blinked, her own reflection appeared.

"Did you see that?"

"Yes," she said in a low voice. They neared the end of the line.

"The Manipulator does more than make the food pretty. It, along with those pills you take, dull one's mind and make it more malleable. When you look in the mirror, everyday, it trains your mind, and makes it stronger. The stims work to reinforce the Manipulator's action, so when you stopped taking them, your mind was able to resist the control. You must know you are more than you are, especially after that speech."

"I felt . . . different, like I had always given speeches, like I had always rallied men into action. What's going on?!"

"I . . . I can't say, I'm still finding things out myself. I'll speak to you again in a week and a half. And maybe you will finally see your true reflection. But more than anything else; trust no one. It is very difficult to discern to whom allegiances lie, and one wrong move could spell the death of all our hope."

She got out of line, and sat back at the table. Todd had just finished.

"Lainey, what's wrong?" asked Michael. "You look utterly distracted."

"I was just thinking . . . why don't we ever speak of the war?"

The entire table sat back, their faces turning to stone.

"See? The mere mention of the thing that happened shuts us down. Why is that?"

"What's there to talk about?" demanded Isaac. "What's done is done. We're in here, and all that, out there, doesn't mean shit to us."

"What about all the people I knew that were killed?" bitterly demanded Simon. "My parents tried to stay out of it; after all, they were old! But no, the damned Union slaughtered every living soul in their whole province. I always wanted the Union to win, but not after that day. That day I decided to get away, to forget about it all, and this was just the place." He sat back, surprised at his sudden recollection. "How'd I—"

"That's why we don't speak of things like the war, or the world. Many of us have terrible things in our lives that are best left out of this place."

The others still sat in silence.

"Why not? Why can't we speak of it, if only among ourselves?" asked Elaine. "Is it we don't know who squeals to the new government, is it we're afraid we no longer have a democracy, but instead a dictatorship? We all think if we ignore it the problem will go away, but one day our service in here will be up, and we'll need to go back to that world."

"Well," began Todd, as he worked his way out of his chair, "all I know is that we have a prison to run. I can't be concerned about which way the winds of politic blow, for no matter who wins, who is in charge, no one would want the vermin we steward to ever be let out."

"What if . . ." Elaine paused, feeling some deep connection. "What if this were turned into a prison for political prisoners?"

She watched Todd's face carefully as she said those words, and he didn't disappoint. He let slip a brief stutter, a jerk of the eye that was barely distinguishable under his rolls of fat.

"Oh Lainey, you do have a vivid imagination! I feel sure if the Union took any political prisoners, they would've executed them by now."

"Every government that has executed the leaders of its vanquished has only succeeded in making martyrs of them," stated Oliver. "It is a basic fact every first-year history student learns."

"I didn't know you were so well educated, Oliver!" cried Todd, as Isaac stood with him. "Someday, you and I will have to have a long conversation."

Isaac leaned over Oliver as Todd walked off, with malice and menace in his glare, echoing Todd's words; "a long conversation indeed."
Chapter 10

Over the next week, Elaine religiously did as Matthew asked and gazed at her reflection in the mirror, that is, after she had some euals replace it. She also stopped taking the stims altogether, flushing them down the toilet, filling her prescription with Elestor at the same intervals. There were days she couldn't see past her reflection, then a few others where for minutes a different face hung in front of her. This face had the same eyes, the same features, but a different look. Her lips were drawn tight, her brow knotted, and Elaine swore that a sense of hopelessness and despair hung over that reflected face. She was obviously a strong woman though; one of command—of authority, and Elaine knew she would be a formidable foe.

And on those days that she could see this other woman more clearly, she also saw more and more in the prisoners around her. During groups, she would reach down for a piece of paper or pencil, and when she looked up again, a man before her would appear different, with a new purpose on his face. She soon learned how to conceal her emotions, so jarring was it to constantly occur. She also spoke with Simon about switching some members of her group, with the ultimate goal of getting Matthew permanently included in hers.

At the same time, her affair with Ronald was getting stronger. They had progressed to pleasing each other with their mouths and lying in bed, naked, kissing and laughing. She began to desperately want him inside her, but the next hurdle was for either of them to get condoms. For him to ask for them would imply he was having a relationship with another prisoner, and Elaine knew it would mean severe taunting. If she got them, it would imply she was sleeping with a doctor, or worse, a guard, and would invite additional scrutiny, as a certain few tried to figure out who was her lucky bedfellow.

Then Tannis began formally inspecting each cell, and the problem was quickly solved. As Ronald was one of the first to be searched, those who came later bartered for Ronald to hold onto their contraband. Ronald waited until someone asked to hide something particularly sensitive, then bartered for some condoms in exchange. He arrived that same night, and after a few glasses of tea, let Elaine know.

"What did he ask you to keep that was so sensitive?"

"You don't wanna know, Lainey. Suffice to say, some men need to keep trophies of the things they've done, like medals or an award."

"Even in here, they somehow get it?"

"Yup. Sometimes it's something as simple as a pair of panties, or socks. Other times, it's something much more grizzly."

Elaine leaned back thinking. "Now that's a mood-killer if ever there was one."

Ronald burst out laughing, and she with him. "So . . ," he asked gently, "are we going to do this?"

Elaine nervously fidgeted in her chair, as it was a question that had occupied her mind for several days.

"Once we start, there's no going back," he said, kneeling before her. "I wouldn't want you to regret something later."

She ran her hands through his short, brown hair, and he rest his head in her lap, rubbing his cheek softly against her inner thigh. A part of her wanted to take him, then and there, rip off his clothes and scream and sweat with him long into the night. But she was a mind divided, and the more rational side made its presence known.

"What did you do?" she demanded, in an instant turning serious and focused. "I need to know—I need to believe."

Ronald nodded, sitting back on the floor, folding his hands into his lap. He had a way of being utterly subservient that was uniquely disarming. "I wouldn't lie to you and say I was innocent—we've come too far. I did murder someone . . . several people, in fact." He glanced at her for a split second, noticing in that instant her mouth, her nostrils, became wider, more open and receptive. He saw her breathing get deeper, her chest swell, and knew she was in his thrall. "I had lost my job. As you can tell, I am reasonably intelligent. I used to be a teacher in a university—one of the last ones that still stood while the civil war raged. But even we couldn't go on, because of the draft. Enrollment dwindled to a fraction of what was and finally they laid-off almost eighty percent of the faculty."

"I was never one to be good with money," he continued, "so when that hit, I was in serious trouble. It was just my luck—while many of the banks were destroyed, their computer systems wiped out, my bank still stood and showed no mercy to those who couldn't pay. They arranged with the government that anyone who went in default would be immediately conscripted into the militia."

"I became desperate," he continued, wringing his hands. "I tried everything—asking everyone I knew, going back to the university, begging for my job, begging for a loan! I even begged my old students for money, and a few gave me some scraps. But most of them were finally drafted, and thought of me as a coward. I tried to steal from the university—it had an immense jewelry collection. But my misfortune would be to attempt the theft on the one night that there were no attacks, no bombings, so when the alarm I forgot about went off, security was on me in a second."

"Thankfully I talked my way out of that one, but I was at the end. Then, one of my fellow teachers, a woman named Pellis, who knew of my plight, offered to pay my debts—for a price. She wanted a new start, and wanted me to kill her husband."

He paused for a moment, for dramatic effect.

"Well, after much soul-searching, I did, I'm ashamed to say. Guns were so easy to come by, so I hid in the shadows, and as his car passed by, I shot him in the head. My aim was good, and he fell instantly. But unfortunately their three kids were in the car with him, and the car swerved into a small fuel truck, exploding on contact."

Elaine nodded. "How did they catch you?"

"They didn't. For a full month I walked the streets as a free man. Pellis couldn't care less about her kids—when I went to her, expecting her to call the police, she was beaming! She explained she couldn't have asked me to kill her kids—she thought I never would've gone for it. As for the police, they wrote it off as a stray bullet from some skirmish nearby. My debts were paid, no one could blame me for anything, and there was even word the university would hire a few people back."

"But I couldn't live with myself. Each and every day was some new exercise in pain and guilt. It tore my heart – not only that they were dead, but that no one grieved for them, no one really cared how they died. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Finally, I turned myself in."

"You did?" she asked, amazed.

"Yeah, and the day they finally put me in a cell, was the first time in a long while that I ate, that I slept. Some people say living here is no better than death. Well, for me, that was the choice. Either kill myself out there, or die slowly in here. I deserve to pay for my crime."

Elaine leaned forward in her chair, her lips almost meeting his. He could smell a faint whiff of desire, and she could smell the rank odor of desperation, but it suited her just fine.

"So, you might say that you were a hired assassin?"

"Yeah . . ." he replied haltingly, unsure of where it was heading.

It was as if in Elaine's mind one persona shifted, diminishing, while another rose to dominance. Her eyes narrowed, her lip drew into a thin sneer. "Good. I like the sound of that."

They lay with each other, and took advantage of Ronald's opportune trading.

In the middle of the night, an alarm sounded.

It wasn't one of the minor infraction alarms—they usually went off in one area of the prison, heralded by dim, orange flashing lights. This was a major breech alarm, signaling either an escape or the murder of a civilian or guard by a prisoner. The lights flashed yellow throughout the prison, with both internal and external klaxons blaring at full strength. Portions of the prison automatically sealed—the upper solitary area closed off from the main body of the prison, which was separated from the rest of the complex. Assault barriers slid down into place over connecting doors and windows, and euals could be seen whirring briskly down the corridors, primed for attack, surveying the scene.

Elaine bolted out of bed, as Ronald groggily sat up. She ran to the door and scanned outside. The halls were brightly lit, with not only daytime lighting but also security lighting ratcheted up to full force. There was scarce a shadow in the halls, and for a moment Elaine felt her stomach twist as if in a vise.

"What is it?" fearfully asked Ronald, as he peered out. He stood in the nude beside her, and his body appeared flaccid and flabby to her in the harsh light. "Is this because of me?"

"I don't know." She brusquely pulled him back in, as her mind raced in the darkness of her room.

"What should I do? Should I try and make a run for it?" He paced back and forth, wringing his hands, before finally realizing he should put back on his clothes. He scampered back and forth, searching for his underwear. "What would happen if you got caught?"

"Nothing good. We should assume it's something else. I'll go out and reconnoiter, and try to get some information from the guards. You—"

"All cuntselors and doctors, please report to the Green Room," blared a voice over the loudspeaker. Elaine scowled at the voice, whom she knew to be Isaac's. "All counselors and doctors to the Green Room!"

"What'm I _gonna do_?!" screamed Ronald, becoming frantic. "If they catch me outta my room, they'll _kill_ me!"

She was taken aback by his seemingly different attitude. _I thought he'd be better under stress_ , she thought to herself. "Be calm. Do you see that air vent?" she asked, pointing to a square vent above her sofa. "I need you to get into that. There are two intersections along the way, leading to the cells. You need to bear to the left in the first one, to the right in the second, and—"

"You want me to crawl in _that_?!" he cried, in shock. "What if someone hears me? What if—"

"No one's going to hear you!" she shouted, trying to calm him down. She wanted to slap him, but didn't need anything else complicating matters. " _Trust me_. Now, bear to the left, then the right, and that will take you to an opening just above the checkpoint leading to the cells. You'll need to wait there—"

"Wait?"

"—yes wait there, until you think it's right. When the door finally opens, and the guard is away, get in there."

"What if they catch me?!"

"Then you'll get a little slap on the wrist, but it's better than being caught in the residences. "

He nodded, seeing the truth in her words.

"Now, get going! I need to leave now. Remember, wait until the door comes up, and a guard leaves his post. Hopefully they'll just think you were out of your cell and wandering around the cell block."

He grasped her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Lainey."

She dressed and ran as quick as she could to the Green Room, the one safe room for the counselors and wardens, with a thick metal door a week's worth of provisions, and the only easily accessible communication device to the outside world. Todd, along with the other counselors, sat at a large table with the two medical doctors. Isaac paced back and forth around them.

"Glad you could make it, Lainey," said Todd, motioning her to a seat. "What took you so long?"

"I wanted to look my best for all of you," she answered flippantly, knowing it would deflect any suspicion. "What's going on?"

"Our young mister Colin was assaulted by a prisoner. It appears as though he was inside Luke's cell when the attack happened."

A part of Elaine was relieved the alarm wasn't about her or Ronald. "Is he alright?"

"No. Luke is holding him hostage. He has a gun."

_Dammit!_ she thought to herself.

"What was Luke doing in there at 3am?" demanded Simon. The others around the table moaned.

"Well, I guess there's always one out of the loop," groaned Isaac, to the laughter of the others. "Colin has a little thing for Luke—"

"One that has gone on _too_ long," interrupted Todd, as he drummed his fingers on the desk.

"—yeah, a little too long. Well, seems as though he must've gotten sloppy or somethin', 'cause word has it a prisoner was seen runnin' from Luke's cell, and it was then this all started."

"How did you find out so much?" asked Elaine.

"I have my reliable sources."

"And I have my reliable surveillance," said Todd. "I know which prisoner it was, and when the time is right, he will be dealt with. For now, we need to talk Luke down, and get Colin out of that cell. And we need it done as quickly as possible. Does he listen to any of you? Connect with any of you?"

"I've been his counselor for the past few months," said Elaine, "and all I've seen is this effeminate persona. Any attempts to connect with whatever lies beneath are always rebuffed by his advances or general evasiveness. He has a few admirers, men who'd like to get into his cell, and they usually rally to his defense."

"How many people has he fucked?" spat Isaac, leaning back. "What is he, the prison whore?"

Elaine shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Despite his seemingly promiscuous attitude, I believe he has very few partners, and they are only so he can get what he wants."

Todd nodded. "So he's a smart one, eh? So more than likely there's no one in the prison he really cares about – no one he will listen to."

Elaine took a deep breath, wary of revealing too much of what she knew. "I think we need to get Matthew in there."

"Why him?"

"I've been noticing some curious interactions among the prisoners. For whatever reason, there is a hierarchy among some of them, and Matthew is the top."

Isaac guffawed. "That quiet sack of shit?! He never fights anyone. Anytime any of us push up on him, no one even looks twice at him. I've even seen him beaten up by a few of the prisoners, and _no one_ came to his rescue."

"Everywhere but in the rec area. Isn't that true?"

Isaac shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."

Tannis leaned forward. "It's true – listen to Lainey."

"Well, well, look who has a voice all of a sudden," sneered Isaac. "Sometimes I forget you even work here."

Tannis leaned back, and put a hand on his baton. "If you ever need a reminder, let me know."

"Now, now gentlemen, this isn't a dick-measuring meeting, _we've got things to do_!" yelled Todd as he slammed his meaty fist on the table. "Now, Lainey, please continue."

Elaine pressed on. "In the rec area, everyone defers to Matthew. They keep their distance from him, and only ask him for advice. Luke is one of them in his inner circle, a circle of defenders in the rec area that never strays too far. Luke _will listen_ to Matthew."

As Elaine spoke of the rec area, she noticed Todd's expression changed, and knew there was something more he wasn't sharing about the rec area. But he kept it to himself, obviously agreeing with the plan.

"Well Isaac," asked Todd, "how risky is it to go in the prison with the current situation?"

"We have solitary and the upper levels sealed and locked down, with regular patrols by the euals. Only the lower level is unguarded, but by surveillance cameras, only four prisoners are not in their cells."

"Which ones?"

"Darren, Steven, Ronald, and Ian."

Elaine groaned. _Damned Ian!_

"How did they get out?"

"Don't know. Maybe Colin arranged their doors to be open, in payment to Luke."

Todd nodded. "Matthew's on the second level, right?"

"Yeah."

Todd swam forward in his chair, trying to look the most authoritative he could. "Lainey, I'm going to need you to go in there. Isaac will be with you. Get Matthew down to Luke's cell, and supervise the negotiations. Isaac, I can't allow you to take arms in there."

"What do I need a gun for?" snickered Isaac, "I got Lainey; that's more than enough."

"It's amazing," she quipped in response, "how much truth can come from the mouths of fools."

They made their way through the checkpoint, past Philip who could barely disguise his anxiety. He managed a worried glance at Elaine, who motioned him to be calm as they passed. She managed a quick look inside the nearby air vent, and swore she could see Ronald's eyes glaring back at her. Isaac moved briskly through the corridors, barely glancing from side to side, his visage as hard and stony as he could make it.

"Trying to be macho?"

"I'm just as scared as you are," snapped Isaac in response. "Difference is, I know how to contain it, to get my job done. The quicker we move, the quicker we'll get there, the sooner I can get back to bed."

Elaine tried to act lost as they made their way through the corridors, shocked at this or that prisoner, though she had seen it all before. It took all her presence of mind to not only let Isaac lead, but to stumble at the right places, to pause before turning a corridor, supposedly unsure of where to go. She worried for a while that she was overacting, but Isaac's smug expression confirmed the strength of her performance.

Finally, they arrived at Matthew's cell. He was lying down, reading a book, and slowly got to his feet as he saw who it was. Isaac opened the door, and Elaine tentatively stepped in.

"What brings you here, Elaine?"

"Luke. He has a gun, and is holding a guard hostage."

"That damned Colin, I imagine?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Will you help us?"

Matthew gestured to Isaac, who harrumphed, then moved further away from the cell. He came closer to Elaine, his kind eyes scrutinizing her face.

"Are you still looking in the mirror?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, in a whisper. "There are times I see a woman who isn't me, looking back. It takes great deal of effort, but she appears. And when she does appear, I also see different things in some of the prisoners."

Matthew nodded, visibly relieved. "Thank you for doing as I asked. As you are discovering who your true self is, so Luke is doing the same thing. And the face he sees is disgusted with what he has become. Do you remember words that John said to you – a phrase he couldn't quite recall?"

She was stunned, for a moment, recalling what he spoke of.

"I . . . I can remember it clearly. He said: 'we will summon the strength, and with valiant strides we shall crush them, and restore . . .'" She smiled to herself. "He couldn't remember the rest."

"I'll bet you can finish it, Elaine."

She took a step back, the fear welling in her mind. "We need to get—"

" _No_ , Elaine." He stood tall before her, confident, with eyes of decision and command. "Stand still, and say it again. This time, focus on each and every word."

She hated being told what to do, in any circumstance, but knew he only meant well, was only trying to help her. So she made herself be still, and thought hard on the words as she spoke them. "We will summon the strength, and with valiant strides we shall crush them, and restore . . . restore . . . the order our people yearn for!" she beamed, feeling as though she had a catharsis of spirit.

"There is more, and I think you know it."

She took another deep breath, composing herself even more. She checked to make sure Isaac was still out of earshot, and then thought back to when she hid against the wall, almost vanishing from sight, and she made herself return to that singleness of purpose. "We will summon the strength, and with valiant strides we shall crush them, and restore the order our people yearn for . . . We shall be as . . . as the avalanche, unstoppable, irresistible," she could feel it now, knew where the words led, and said them with growing conviction, "and we shall wipe away all traces of the evil which has controlled our world for far too long!"

Matthew grinned, and embraced her tightly, sobbing a few tears, which Elaine eagerly reciprocated.

"For far too long, Elaine. For far too long indeed!" He pushed her away, grinning with pride. "Now we can go to Luke, and we need to help him. He won't be able to discover anymore if we don't resolve this situation. As it is, he will be severely punished. You and I both know that."

"Yes. Let's go."

They walked slowly to Luke's cell, moving through the first level. Isaac was more on the alert, as some of the lights had been sabotaged, with wiring pulled out from the walls. Elaine could sense danger all around, but none of it immediate.

Then they came upon Luke's cell. They saw Colin kneeling between Luke's legs, as Luke sat on the bed. The gun was deep in Colin's mouth, and Luke seemed to be warring with himself. Isaac let out a belly laugh and slapped his hand on his thigh.

"Now that's some hard-on he's got in his mouth—sure would hate for it to go off! I guess you want me to hang back?"

"Yes," answered Matthew. "Elaine has nothing to fear from me."

Isaac spat in disgust. "Taking orders from a damned prisoner and a dumb-ass bitch. What has this world come to?"

Isaac moved off, as Elaine and Matthew slowly entered the cell.

"Luke?" asked Matthew. Luke kept on gritting his teeth, as Colin whimpered before him. "Luke!"

His eyes opened, and he focused on Matthew.

"You hear me, don't you?"

"Yes . . . I do. I hear you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"This—this isn't me!" shouted Luke, jamming the gun harder into Colin's mouth, making him squeal in pain and fear. "When I look in the mirror, I see . . . someone else, someone stronger, someone with pride, and dignity! Where is he? Why does he hate me so?"

Matthew held up his hand to quiet him, and then made a slicing motion at Colin. Luke nodded, and with one quick, silent blow, rendered Colin unconscious. "Now, we can talk, without him hearing us. The man you see hates you because this isn't you. I've always known that this wasn't you."

"If it wasn't me, then what has this fuck," he shouted, jamming the gun down onto Colin's head, "been doing to me?!"

"Only what they want him to. He doesn't know—he's just a pawn, like the rest of them."

"Who _are_ you?" finally asked Luke, as he relaxed his hold on the gun. He rose and stood before Matthew with equal parts pride and respect in his aspect. "We have . . . this bond, but yet . . . I have no idea why."

Matthew shook his head in frustration. "I don't know. There are some days I almost know, I can almost taste who I used to be. Then something distracts me, pulls me from the mirror, and I forget. But the fight goes on. You must keep fighting, keep trying. This will set you back, but you will recover, and we shall go forward."

"I . . . I don't know."

Something snapped within Matthew.

"I _order_ you to put that weapon down!" he bellowed, instantly straightening, with the gaze of a commander. Luke snapped to attention, and placed the weapon at his side.

"Yes sir!"

Colin regained consciousness and staggered to his feet, scrambled frantically away from Luke.

"You're crazy! You're all crazy!"

Isaac bolted in, and grabbed the gun off the bed. He held it to Luke's head.

"I oughta kill you for this."

Luke gazed on him with unflinching, focused eyes. Isaac glanced back at Matthew and Elaine, who looked at him with the same expressions.

Isaac pressed on; "he's gonna be punished!"

"Yes, punished," said Elaine, "but not killed."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two fists connected with Isaac's head. He went down soundlessly, and though Colin scrambled for the gun, one of the hands picked it up first.

"Now you just hold it there, lover man," said a prisoner named Darren, as he leveled the gun at Colin, and crept into the cell. One of the more violent prisoners, Darren had started fights with over a third of the prison population. He was the only prisoner to have escaped two attempts on his life, and who killed his attackers. Elaine was fortunate never to have dealt with him in her group, but always felt his eyes on her whenever she passed him. "Well, well, if it isn't Matthew. And Lainey! Now what would possess a woman to come into the cells this late at night?"

"I came to try to save Luke's life."

"Is that what you were doing in here the other night?" asked a voice, outside the cell. Another prisoner came in, out of the shadows, and for a moment Elaine felt sick to the pit of her stomach.

"Ian?" _Damn!_

"Yes love, and I do miss the sweet touch of your hand."

"Who let you out?" demanded Colin, trying in vain to assert his authority. "I only released the door on Darren's cell, not yours!"

"It's fate, simple fool, just fate. The door just swung wide open, not twenty minutes ago. And here I am!" He grabbed Elaine's arm. "And I'm oh so ready."

Matthew tried to intervene. "You do that, and the guards'll kill you for sure."

"So what? If _only_ someone would kill me, and put me outta my misery. And you know what they say, about misery's company."

"Last time, Ian, you had the advantage," said Elaine.

Ian guffawed, with a wide, leering smile. "I still do, little girl."

"No, I don't think so."

Elaine pivoted in his grasp, bringing the heel of her foot squarely on his. He groaned, stifling the pain, but then she slammed up with her knee into his groin. She moved quickly and surely, and though he tried to swat at her with one of his hands, she easily evaded him. She struck at him three more times; once in his chest, once on his temple, and a last time in the front of his neck. He fell to the ground, making gurgling sounds.

"Damned bitch!" screamed Darren. He leveled the gun, but a fist in the darkness outside slammed on his head, and he fell beside Ian. Another figure came in.

"Ronald?!" cried Elaine, with a wide smile. "How'd you get here?"

"Phillip. But this cell is getting crowded."

"What have you been doing, Elaine?" demanded Colin, a scintilla of wisdom creeping into his skull. "When we get out of here, I'm gonna—"

"Gonna _what_?" demanded Matthew. "You have enough explaining to do about letting Darren out. And Ian. And you were in here, assaulting a prisoner? Because he _was_ assaulting you, wasn't he Luke?"

"Yeah. He surprised me, and threatened me." He jammed a package into Colin's pocket. "And he stole this from me."

"Fuck you," shouted Colin bitterly, "fuck you all! Fine, you want it like this, you got it. You just watch yourself, Lainey, 'cause you're all alone from now on."

Luke stood beside her, and for a moment, Elaine saw someone else. He was a proud, commanding figure, dressed in some uniform, with a gaze that could silence the loudest man.

"Elaine will never be alone," he said.

"Who are you?" she whispered, looking up into his eyes. The image faded, and only the prisoner was left.

"I wish I knew."
Part III: Revelation

Chapter 11

The prisoners led a mostly regimented existence, with their days carefully mapped out. Wake-up would be at 7am, and there would be three staggered shifts of breakfast. Breakfast would formally end at 10am, and they would be confined until lunch, which began at 12pm. Lunch would last for 45 minutes, after which they would have 45 minutes of recreation time. The last recreation group would leave at 3pm. Group sessions were typically after lunch, with a total of six sessions daily. After group sessions were done, dinner would be served in their cells. Something about the whole thing always reminded Elaine of high school, except there were almost no girls, and if anyone played a prank, it was usually a fatal one.

Each cell, with the exception of solitary, had a bed, a chair, a dresser, a toilet, a shower, and a monitor. The prison had exclusive programming that ran 24 hours a day. During the first twelve hours, from 9am to 9pm, programming ranged from comedies to dramas, with some concert footage. Between 9am and 9am it consisted of religious and educational programs, and it was during that time that most monitors were turned off.

During lock-down, all those activities were suspended, and prisoners got all their meals delivered to their cells by euals, meaning they had almost no human contact. There was only the monitor to distract them, and no cell would be opened for any reason. Todd had the only control that could open them during a lock-down.

Elaine sat in her suite, fidgeting with her feet, bemoaning the boredom. It had been six days since the Luke incident, and rumor was that the lock-down wouldn't be ending anytime soon. Her suite felt like little more than a dolled-up cell, for it offered just about as many possibilities for distraction and entertainment.

_If I look at myself in the mirror anymore, I feel like I'm gonna cry_ , she thought to herself. She was able to call up the alternate face of herself, more and more often, but it brought her no satisfaction, no closer to understanding what she saw. And the only people she had to talk to were the other doctors, and they were the last people she could speak with about any of what was happening.

The mood among the doctors and guards was growing tense. Without the prisoners to play with, the guards vented their frustrations out on the doctors. Especially Colin, as not only did he not have Luke to satisfy him, but he dearly wanted to take vengeance out on Matthew. But for the time being, he was more than happy to make Elaine's life a living hell.

His shift was rotated to night duty, and he took to patrolling outside Elaine's suite, late at night. He would run his metal baton along the outside of her door, letting it hit against the trim, bringing her just out of sleep. She would pull the covers up, and try to fade again, but he would sit in front of her door with a portable monitor, and laugh out loud at the broadcasts, waking her again. She finally turned to static on her AV, and turned up the volume to drown him out, but then he took to doing maintenance work on a eual outside her suite. After six days of that torture, she found herself exactly where she loathed to be—in a seat opposite Todd in his library of forgotten books that he called an office, who grinned with delight at seeing her.

"Ahhh, Lainey," he cooed, as he put away a particularly large tome just under his desk, "what brings you here? You know, you're not looking well."

"My name's _Elaine_ , Todd," she said firmly, taking to heart what Matthew told her earlier. "I'm damned sick of this 'Lainey' shit."

Todd raised his eyebrows, as he was unused to being spoken to in that manner.

" _Do_ go on," he said with a slight flourish. "After all, I am thankful for your help in the recent emergency, and should allow some . . . leeway, in our conversation."

Elaine sighed, and knew she would make no progress like that.

"I'm sorry, but Colin is making it his personal mission to ruin my life!" she yelled, and even shed a few tears, deciding hysterics might be the way. "Every damned night he's doing something just outside my door, to keep me awake. I . . . I just can't take anymore."

"You're not the only one," he grumbled. "The other counselors are complaining to me, as well as Elestor. Having the facility on lockdown leaves the guards with a lot of pent-up energy – too much for my liking." He leaned back, his gaze growing distant. "You know, Elaine, with all this free time, I've had the chance to really do some thinking, and some good reading," he said, patting a thick tome nearby. "Some _really_ serious thinking. It's odd that some men enjoy freedom most when they are in a prison. For those around us, the criminals, they are dragged into these walls, against their will, and forced to live under my will. Never before had they given a thought to what it meant to be free, to be able to make decisions on their own. And they only enjoy freedom once they are released from me. Then there is the rich man, who earns wealth so he may find freedom in isolation. He amasses expensive possessions and must erect a fortress to protect them. He walls himself in that fortress, so he may enjoy any manner of depraved debauchery without anyone else knowing. His freedom is behind walls of his own creation, and he subjugates himself to his own will, and he enjoys it. It is some kind of twisted genetic destiny that leads men of all manner of wealth to the same end, and only a smart man can either live a life free from any sort of prison, or establish himself as the warden over either his life or over others', and enforce his will on the weaker and less fortunate. It is the warden that is the Overman, who has risen above the chaff, sloughed off the chains of destiny, to live free above it all."

Todd sat there, gloating, surrounded by towers of books, swaddled in immense rings of fat. Elaine finally saw Todd for what he really was; a pathetic academic with delusions of power and control. A man who was becoming so far removed from reality that it was jeopardizing not only his own life, but the lives of all around him. For a split second she felt a tremor of fear, of deep dread of a dark future that hung just ahead. She took a deep breath and pushed it away, focusing on the matter at hand.

Todd slapped his hand on the desk and nodded to himself. "I think the prisoners have learned their lesson! Tomorrow, we will go back to business as usual, such as it is."

Elaine leaned back, as a wave of relief spread over her. "Thank you."

"Anything for you . . . _Elaine_ ," he said, with a penetrating stare.

"What will happen to Ian?"

Todd shifted his considerable bulk in his chair, pursing his lips like he just licked a lemon. "Now, why did Ian have a grudge against you?"

Elaine shrugged.

"So, you see my predicament. A lot of what went on in Luke's cell is very much hearsay, unable to be corroborated by uncontested testimony."

"This isn't a court of law, Todd. You are judge, jury, and in some cases, executioner, with no one to contest your decisions."

"While that may be true, I get the distinct impression you'd like Ian to be executed."

"Ian will only cause more trouble," she pleaded, affecting the damsel in distress. "He and Darren have lost the will to live, and we all know that in a prison setting that spells disaster. There will come a time that one or both of them will decide to end it all, and take as many of us with them."

Todd nodded. "True, true, but for now, tensions are too high. And the same could be said for Colin, or Isaac. I would love to ship one or both of them out, but I just don't have a way."

Something about his words brought an idea to her mind.

"Todd, what would you think about me holding a meditation group?"

It caught his attention, and he shifted his bulk forward in the chair, even bringing his hand out from hiding between his legs. "For the prisoners?"

"Yes. It would be in the rec yard, after the dinner hours, on a strictly voluntary basis."

"Why . . . why would you do that?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "You have my interest, to be sure!"

"Well, as you said, tensions are getting a little out of control around here. I may not be able to reach the hardened criminals, the true sociopaths, but some of them I might be able to connect with, and help them to control their negative impulses – a sort of anger management therapy."

Todd leaned back, stroking his eyebrows with his fingers. She watched him intently, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions, hoping he wouldn't doubt her motives. Out of all those in the prison, she had come to feel that Todd had the greatest ability at truth-telling.

"Well . . ." he started off slowly, "as I said before, I never can say 'no' to you. And this time, I think you actually have a great idea here! I just got word that we're having a formal government inspection three weeks from now, and anything that would help things run smoothly would be greatly appreciated." He leaned forward. "You do this, and I'll make sure you're employment here isn't questioned by the auditors."

She heard that one bad review by one of the auditors could mean termination for any counselor, including Sarah, and reassignment to something infinitely more unappetizing, like battlefield corpse removal.

"Thank you Todd," she said, with a quick bow. "I'll draft up a lesson plan, and—"

"Now Lainey," he said, motioning her back to the seat, forgetting completely about her proper name, "I know sometimes I have an . . . inelegant way of putting things, but I do find you to be quite . . . appealing. "

Elaine nodded, unsure of how to proceed.

Todd continued, in his most aristocratic air. "I would never want to do anything against your will, or make you feel as if you were compelled to do anything with me. I know there are other physical specimens, in here, that are more attractive to someone such as yourself. I only ask you think of this: almost everyone else in here hides their true persona, their true intentions, behind a veil through which no one can see. There are precious few people here one can trust, and many who delight in gaining the trust of someone, only to betray them later. With me, you will always know that I am honest, with unabashed candor. I may not be the most attractive man, but at least I am whom I represent myself to be."

For a moment, Elaine scrutinized him intensely, focusing on his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, wondering if there weren't some 'other' face buried deep down. What she found was he truly was being honest, and that, even more, there was a kernel of compassion within him she hadn't seen in many others there.

"This is the second time you have appeared before me, after a lockdown, Lainey. You cannot deny that among all those here, you have a certain . . . connection to me."

"I will think on it, Todd," she said, as she slowly rose from her chair. "Thank you for your candor."

"Anytime, Lainey—I mean, _Elaine_." He said with a deferential grin, as she could see his hand drift back down under his desk. "Anytime."

She walked out to Colin, who was leaning against a wall nearby, watching her.

"What'd you need to see the fat man for? To tell on me, little girl?"

Elaine stopped before him, wondering how she should deal with him. Though he had gone too far over the line this time, she knew one day she could be in a group and need his help to subdue a prisoner.

"None of your damned concern, Colin. In fact, you should thank me! Todd just told me the prison will come out from lockdown."

Colin perked up, as his mind raced on what now could be done. "This . . . this doesn't mean I've forgotten, Lainey," he said distractedly, as he turned to leave. "But there are other matters to deal with."

As Colin rushed off, she suddenly could feel that she wasn't alone. She whirled around, to find Tannis leaning casually against a wall further down the hallway.

"You're a lot smarter than I thought you were."

"What—what do you mean?" asked Elaine innocently.

Tannis strolled slowly towards her. "You know _exactly_ what I mean. I was a general, before the war ended. I've seen all kinds of soldiers and spies, assassins and saboteurs. And more and more, I see some of their best qualities reflected in you."

"That's a high compliment," she replied, unsure of where he was going.

"Just watch yourself. Ofttimes my best assassin would be taken down by the one person he mistakenly trusted—an error in judgment that was most times fatal."

"How did you end up here, if you were a general?"

Tannis spun his baton in its holster, as he looked absently away. "I was a general on the wrong side."

Later that day, Elaine sat in on a meeting of all doctors and counselors. She sat next to Elestor, and across from Oliver, whose gaze she again could barely stomach. She kept squirming in her seat, as he was doing most of the talking. Though she had reconciled with him after his mistake with John, it was only temporary, as the bad feelings came instantly back.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired of feeling like my life is in jeopardy every single minute of every single day!" Elaine had never seen him so angry and frustrated, and found herself also, for the first time, in complete agreement. The other doctors and counselors also, nodded or grunted in agreement. "There are too few guards we can really trust, and too many prisoners we have too little information about! Elaine tells us that we will be getting audited in a few weeks—I say we make the most of it. Todd has proven to be an ineffective warden, and needs to be removed!"

Michael and Simon both loudly agreed with him, with Elestor nodding in support. Sarah raised a hand to quiet and calm them.

"I think we all know conditions here are less than ideal, but they could be far, far worse. At least the illegal activities going on here aren't too obvious, or too much in control. At least Todd, for all his shortcomings, is relatively honest and _does care_ about the welfare of his doctors and counselors. We _are_ in a prison – never forget that fact."

"All I know," ventured Elestor, who was usually quiet in these meetings, "is that the situation with Luke has never made the guards seem more vulnerable in the eyes of the prisoners. After all, though you all were forbidden contact, I've still had to give medical treatment with my euals to the population. Ian and Darren have infected the community like never before. They stood up to a guard, and almost took advantage of a situation that could've seen them escape. They are convincing other prisoners that it's better to die trying to escape, than live under the conditions here."

His words cast a grim pall over the others. "Do they have much support?" asked Elaine.

"I don't know," continued Elestor. "These first days post-lockdown will be crucial ones. We can see what groups form in the rec area, how the guards are treated in the cafeteria. I've tried to warn Isaac that any normal beatdowns that usually happen after a lockdown will only stir them up more."

"What did he say?" snidely demanded Oliver.

Elestor chuckled. "What he always does; 'stick to your business, and I'll stick to mine.' But he usually does listen to me, after a while . . ."

Elaine had heard rumors of some kind of affair between Elestor and Isaac, but it always seemed implausible to her. Isaac was nothing but a brute with a badge, while Elestor had a chirping, sweet voice and tender, delicate mannerisms. She knew opposites sometimes attracted each other, but in this case, she felt they were much too opposite. Besides, if rumor ever got around that Isaac was sleeping with a man, all his authority would vanish overnight. _But everyone has needs_ , thought Elaine. _Of all people, I should know that_.

"This only reinforces what I'm speaking of!" cried Oliver. "If Todd won't control his guards, then we need to replace him with someone who will. "

"Now come on," hissed Elaine. "We bear some responsibility for how the prisoners are acting. It's our jobs to try to bring some emotional calm. Why, he just approved my conducting a meditation group to try to calm—"

"A _meditation_ group?!" jeered Oliver, laughing. "Oh my, maybe we should get them involved in knitting as well! The only people who will join your little 'quiet time' are those who already don't pose a threat."

"But maybe she's onto something," ventured Sarah. "The strongest force is a united one. We need to unite those prisoners that want an orderly, calm existence. The more we unify them, the better chance they have of swaying others to their side. Though I _do_ wish you had included me on your little plans," rebuked Sarah, "but if we do nothing, then the likes of Ian and Darren will take over this prison, and the only answer will be total mental sterilization of the population."

Even Oliver leaned back at the mention of sterilization. "We'd all be out of a job, then."

"Damned right. There's a large faction in the government that is tired of wasting money on these prisons, tired of hearing about riots and murders. They would love nothing better than to mentally sterilize anyone guilty of a capital offense. And once we start down that slope, who knows where it would end? Mental correction would come back with a vengeance, making people like us utterly superfluous, and damning the people of this world to lives governed by fear and mistrust. "

"The only things they'd need in the prisons are those damned euals," spat Michael, "to take people to their food, and back to their cells."

Suddenly the door opened, and Isaac strode in, with Blake at his side. He stood behind Sarah, as Blake paced around the room.

"Good, good, good. I see we've got all our little eggs in a bunch."

"What is it Isaac?!" demanded Sarah, as she started to get to her feet. Isaac shook his head and roughly pushed her back down into her chair.

"How dare you!" she shouted. "Why I should –"

"Just shut your mouth and listen, bitch. I'm _tired_ of the _shit_ that goes on around here!" He paced around them like a father chastising his children. "You docs are gettin' involved in too much shit for my liking. Too many of you stand up for those fools, when no one stood up for their victims! How many people wailed, begged them to stop, only to have them press on and murder them? You don't know, do you? You can't be told, or you would never allow yourselves to be in that tiny little room with just one guard. If you knew everything that just one of your little darlings had done, you wouldn't want to be in a room with fifty guards! Ignorance, in this case, is surely not bliss. We are the only people standing between _you_ and _death_. _Never_ forget that, because if we step aside, if you piss us off once too often, you will find out what one of your darlins have done, and it'll be the last thing you ever learn."

He motioned to Blake who laughed at the counselors and started out the door.

"Remember, this is a damned thankless job," he added. "Things might go on here that you little shits might not approve of, but that's too bad. No one wants this kind of job. No one wants to be the bad guy, the man whose gotta break other men down. I guarantee, none of you would want to wear my shoes."

They left, and as the door closed, Oliver slammed his fist on the table.

"You all see?! Todd needs to go, and his damned stooges with him!"

"Shut up, Oliver!" yelled Elaine. "I don't like the guards any more than you, but some of what he says is right. We have no idea what they've done, that is, except Sarah. We weren't there when they took someone's life, weren't there when they hid from the police, or gloried in their kill. We only see them now, broken and weak, at the mercy of others."

"This is a change for you, Elaine," said Sarah, a little surprised.

"I know. I still think there are some in here that deserve mercy, deserve rehabilitation. But we can't carry guns, we aren't half as strong as most of the prisoners! We need to get over our reservations, and take advantage of the guards. Ian and Darren meant to kill us. We need to face that fact."

"Kill you, maybe," muttered Simon with a smile. "Not us."

"Not you? Not you?!" Elaine bolted to her feet, and backhanded Simon across his face. "Who got Illint slammed down in group two months ago? _You_. Who got Darren an extra week of solitary, when he vomited all over your shoes? No one in here hasn't taken corrective measures against some of the prisoners. And all they do is remember. Remember who wronged them, remember who spoke against them. They _never_ forget, Simon. They'll kill you, right after they kill me!"

"Damned you little piece of _shit_ ," spat Simon, as he got to his feet. "You'll pay for that!"

"What are you – just another prisoner? I dare you to do something, you and that little prick of yours – _I dare you!_ "

"Alright—enough!" shouted Sarah, as Oliver restrained Simon. "Groups will begin tomorrow, on our old schedule. Elaine, your meditation group will be at 7pm, three times a week."

"What – you're gonna let her hit me, and get away with it?!"

"You've deserved that for a long time, Simon. Be thankfully I didn't do it myself, or get one of the guards to do it for me. Because they'd like beating a whining piece of shit like you around."

"What about your boyfriend?" he demanded, motioning to Michael. "Nobody whines more than him!"

Elaine watched as they all began to bicker, and something about it chilled her to the bone. _How different are we than the prisoners? How can we stand against them, when we don't even like ourselves?_ She thought on the Manipulator, how she struggled against it when she looked in the mirror. _Now that would make sense. Keep us off balance, keep the prisoners off balance, keep all the groups in here hating each other, so none would learn too much from another. Whoever is behind this has planned for almost every contingency. And that means they will be an even more difficult adversary to beat._
Chapter 12

Mood is a luxury for those who are free and the guards afforded the inmates none of it.

While Isaac heeded Elestor's advice about not conducting a mass beatdown, the guards were fully attentive and rigidly enforcing each and every rule. The moment lockdown was lifted a full cell search of half the facility was executed, with full cavity searches of the top twenty most violent inmates, with Ian and Darren being at the head of the line. There was nothing like making a man walk naked and bend over in front of another man to kill any delusions of grandeur.

Rumor had also gotten out that Todd was dieting again. During her six months at the prison, Elaine had heard of Todd dieting at least ten times. What made this time different was the appearance of a brand new treadmill in his office, replacing a space that used to be long to at least a hundred books. Phillip told Elaine he was in an awful mood, and most of the guards blamed her, as it was becoming common knowledge how smitten Todd was with her.

_Another damned thing Colin can hate me for_ , she thought to herself as she opened the door on her group. She wasn't in the mood for more foolishness from the guards, as she had been busily preparing materials for her group session. She had decided to try a poem writing exercise, as another way not only to connect with the more reticent prisoners, but also so messages could be exchanged under the guards' noses. Fifteen prisoners sat before her, Matthew being among them. Phillip was the guard on duty, part of Todd's attempted seduction. _At least, for now, things will be a little easier_.

The hours moved quickly, as the prisoners were glad to be out of solitary confinement and socializing again. She heard little reservation as she passed out sheets and told them of the poetry exercise. What they turned in was abysmally bad, but at least there were precious few descriptions of murder or rape among them.

During a five minute break, she explained to Matthew about the meditation class.

"And Todd actually approved this?"

"Yes!" cried Elaine, still a little shocked herself. "Why wouldn't he?"

Matthew thought to himself. "He is the only one who knows who we all really are. Haven't you thought of that?"

She admitted to herself she hadn't. "I guess not."

"We wouldn't be here, unless there was someone to watch over us. Todd may play the simpleton, or at least the well-meaning warden, but in reality, he knows everything that is going on here."

"I can't see it, when I look at him. I don't see any duplicity in his actions."

Matthew chuckled. "It takes a sophisticated mental technology to have done what was done to us. Don't you think there would be something similar in his office?"

Elaine almost hit herself it was so obvious. "Damned. Then why is he letting us do this?"

"He wants to know how much we have learned. We still need to do this, for it is the only way to make others realize who and what they are. But we _must_ be careful."

Elaine nodded.

"And," he continued quickly, "if the chance ever comes for you to speak with Todd outside his office, on territory you are totally familiar with, take it. Only then will you be able to see through his facade, and possibly learn more of his motives."

"Elaine," said Philip, as he came over to her, "the break's about over."

"Thanks. Alright, everybody, let's get back to our seats. Now, we're going to try this one more time, because hopefully you know a little better how to write in this form."

"What're we gettin' outta this?" whined James, one of the new additions to her group. "Writin' dumb-fuck poems? What kind of cuntselor are you?" James sat back and laughed at his little funny. Philip started forward, but Elaine motioned him to relax.

"Now James, I'm here to try to help you. Everything I do is to help all of you deal with your emotions, deal with the pain that you carry with you."

"I don't carry any damned _pain_ ," he cried laughing, "I'm perfectly fine with myself!" He leaned forward, with a menace to his face. "I'm perfectly fine that I killed over a hundred people, that I raped almost thirty women! Ooh, were they sweet, too. I oughta—"

"Shut up?" ventured Ronald, bringing laughter from the group. "We don't need tales of your exploits. We just want to enjoy some time out of our cells."

James leaned back, with a knowing smile. "You sweet on Lainey? I heard you liked the dumb ones—and you sure don't get dumber than that."

"Enough!" shouted Philip, as he brandished his baton. James cringed back into his seat, as he was never one to actually engage in physical conflict. But after a moment, the smile returned, and the evil from his eyes focused on Ronald again.

"Thank you, Ronald," said Elaine, a little relieved. "Now, maybe we all can get some work done."

The last hour of group went quickly, with Ronald helping Elaine throughout. He helped pass out the materials, chimed in with support of her, and was the loudest in laughing at her little jokes. At first Elaine was a little worried that their relationship would become obvious, but as the time grew to an end, she knew Ronald was becoming what most groups had—a facilitator, a 'yes man,' who sidled up to the counselor in hopes of better reviews or a lighter treatment from the guards. As they filed out to head back to the cells, Ronald purposefully hung back to be the last out, and even Philip hung just outside the room to allow a little privacy.

"Thanks, Ronald. You know, some of them will hate you from now on."

"Yeah, I know. Thing is, I don't know if you've heard, but the lines are being drawn. And there's no way I could be with Ian or Darren." He leaned a little closer. "I miss you."

Elaine surreptitiously gestured up at the camera. "And I you. I'll see you at group on Friday," she said a little louder. "Thanks again."

"Anytime, Elaine. Anytime. Oh, wait—I'll see you tomorrow night, at meditation!"

"Yes," she laughed, "I guess you will."

Philip walked her back to her office, past the cells filled with prisoners settling in for the night. She had a long day and wanted to just plop in her bed, but still needed to get a few things ready for her meditation group.

"You know, Lainey, there are rumors one of the docs is bringing in contraband."

"What – how could that be?" In truth she knew it would probably be easier for one of them to supply contraband to the prisoners than the guards. The counselors had private offices, and could request an unsupervised, personal meeting with any prisoner at almost any time of the day. "Who do you think it is?"

"Don't know. I don't think it's you," he said with a smile, "but it _is_ happening. Isaac's pissed. He's leaning on the prisoners hard to figure out who it is. If there's one thing Isaac protects, is his lottment. He runs any and all illegal activities here, and doesn't like the idea of someone he's protecting stealing some of his business. If this guy isn't found soon, I know things'll get bad for all of you."

"Thanks Philip."

When they got to her office, and Philip stood for a moment, silently, with his head down, dreading what he had to say.

"Lainey, I'm tellin you this, 'cause I don't think you should come by for a while," he whispered, with his back facing the camera. "I mean, I like your treats and all, but if anyone gets a whiff of that, Isaac'll be on you so hard nothin' could help you."

"Thanks, Philip." She made the rare gesture of squeezing Phillip's arm in thanks, and he instantly blushed, then turned and hurried away. _I only wish there were more like him_ , she thought to herself, as she went into her office. She went to turn on the light, but for some reason, couldn't flip the switch.

What's this?

Utter, abject terror gripped her, squeezing the breath out of her. She stood, motionless, gazing into the darkness of her office, squinting to see what could have paralyzed her.

Is there someone here? Someone I should see?

She held her breath, and opened her mind, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary, searching with her eyes for the slightest glimmer, the minutest of movements. Her teeth began to chatter, and nothing she did could keep them still.

_What is it? What is it?!_ She could sense nothing, could see nothing out of the ordinary. She was getting more and more anxious, even fearful, at what she was unable to recognize. _Why can't I move? What's wrong?_ Then, suddenly, it hit her. It wasn't just the room, it was everything—her office, her room, her very reflection in the mirror. It was as if the discordant tone that had begun long ago had finally reached its climax, like a warning chime in her mind. _It all is wrong. This life is wrong. I am wrong._ She flicked on the switch, and saw what was before her in an entirely new context. _This is wrong, and I can't get comfortable. I can't be safe, can't indulge my needs for pleasure or comfort. I must be as the vagabond, the destitute traveler, carrying little, attached to nothing, willing to do whatever it takes to get where I need to go. This must be the new imperative, and I must never forget it._
Chapter 13

The next day she organized the first meditation session in the second, smaller rec room with about twenty prisoners. There was already some negative chatter in the prison, with many of the prisoners jeering as she walked by, and even Colin and Blake heckled her new endeavor.

"I can help 'em meditate," screamed Blake, as she walked by, "just lemme use my _meditation stick_!" He brandished his baton comically, as Colin pretended to go limp. "I'll make 'em go so quiet they'll _never_ wake up!"

Matthew met her at the rec room, clasping her hands and grinning eagerly.

"I have touched with all those I have a strong feeling about," he said excitedly, as Luke walked in. Luke had become a recluse, as he was terribly confused about who he was. One moment of the day he pranced around, affecting a feminine walk, while at other times he stormed back and forth, throwing his bulk wherever he felt. "Luke, John, and Mark are those I have the strongest feelings about." Elaine smiled as John walked in, and he gave her a little wave. "James I'm not so sure about, as well as Richard. You seem to have formed a connection with Ronald?"

"Yes," she said, as James walked in. "Why do you feel James belongs here? He's been nothing but trouble in all my groups."

"What better way to disguise someone of importance?" asked Matthew slyly. "Anyway, I take it you have come up with some method to this madness?"

"I've done my research on meditation, and journeys of the self. I've struck a compromise, one that won't arouse too much suspicion."

Matthew nodded. "Maybe we will finally get some answers."

"Alright, everyone," said Elaine, calling everyone to attention. They gathered around her, and for the most part attentively listened to her words. "Today I will try to teach you a method to attain balance within yourselves. Believe me, I am well aware of the position you are in—one that I do not share. I know you are confined here for the rest of your lives, and that at times you feel little hope or reason for living. I feel there is always a reason to live, that even though confined, your life can be of worth. The first step to discovering that worth is to attune your 'self' to find the potential for greatness in situations around you."

"I also know that it has taken a lot for each of you to join me here, that some of you worry that you will look foolish to the others. That is why I have developed a program that doesn't require special physical moves or postures. All you need to do is sit down, relax, and focus. Now, please sit in the chairs around you. They are purposefully arranged at random—don't change their position. It is meant to echo the randomness of your lives; a guard that does a surprise inspection, a fellow inmate who becomes lunatic for a moment, the loss of a signal on the AV units in your cells, leaving you without distraction for hours on end." They all eventually found a seat, with Matthew and Ronald sitting closest to her, and Luke, John, Mark and James somewhere close to Matthew.

"Now, place your hands in your lap. The goal is not to have them in a special position – it is to merely allow your body to relax as much as possible. Now I will count down from ten to zero, and you will do that, when you're alone, silently in your mind. With each passing number, relax another facet of yourself. Begin with your arms, then your legs, then your chest and hands. At five, your physical body should be at rest. For the last numbers, clear your mind of worries, anxieties, fears and doubts. I know this will be difficult, but I will count down slowly. The more you do this, the quicker you will be able to count down, and isolate your 'self.'"

Elaine began to count down, after she also took a chair, and closed her eyes, thankful that Philip was standing guard over them. She had tried it several times in her room alone, and each time she felt more refreshed.

"Now," she said, after she had reached zero, "I want you to become aware of the temperature around you. Your hands have a different temperature than your knees, or your chest. Most important, is the temperature above your head. Can you feel it?"

Some responded in the affirmative, others negative.

"You all will, with practice. For those that do, if it is quite warm, it means there is still too much thought going on. You need to progress downwards, into your 'self,' to cool this space above your head." She opened her eyes, and stood next to Luke. "Can you feel it, Luke?"

"Yes," he said softly. "It's warm."

"Imagine it as a color, as being red. What you want is a cool, light blue, like the color of cold water out of the sink. Don't think of anything else but that color, but that temperature. Bring your mind down, bring your thoughts out of focus. Can you feel it losing heat?"

"I . . . yes . . . I can."

"Good. When it reaches blue, open your eyes."

Luke slowly opened his eyes. He was facing John at the time, and as he focused on his face, a wide smile spread across his face.

"I . . . I know you! By Holis, it has been so long," he cried, with tears running down his face. John immediately opened his eyes.

"Who am I?"

"No!" suddenly shouted Elaine. "Not now, not here. Remember this moment, Luke. Keep that kernel of information to yourself. Matthew, how are you doing?"

"I feel a coolness above my head."

"Good." She turned his body to look at Luke. "Now, open your eyes."

Matthew slowly opened his, and let out a long sigh.

"You . . . you know who I am?"

Matthew chuckled. "Yes, finally I do." He glanced up at Elaine. "Thank you."

Elaine glanced over at Ronald, who sat, dejected.

"It's alright, Ronald. Give it time," she said, putting a hand on his back.

By the end of the next day, she knew the identities of a few of the prisoners.

Matthew, when he saw Luke, saw a man he knew before as Lucas Druche, General of the Imperial Army. When Luke saw John, he saw a man he recognized as Eljohhana Wix, a great hero of the Imperial Army, one whom had won countless battles by the mere strength of his arms and legs.

They didn't know much else, as there was no way to access records of the civil war, or much of anything from inside the prison. And Elaine couldn't ask anyone about them—she knew it would raise too much suspicion. But there was a palpable excitement among them, as for the first time in many years they felt the first glimmer of hope.

She purposefully kept her group low-key the next day, as not to arouse any suspicion. More than ever, she felt the cameras on her, prying into everything she said, watching her every move.

Ronald managed to pass her a small note as they left. It read:

Do not forsake me, my darling. Oh, I can't live without your touch! I know it's dangerous, more so for you, but I miss you. I need you.

She crumpled it up as soon as she read it, and swallowed it, bit by bit, over the next hour.

Over the next four meditation sessions, twenty prisoners had discovered who they were. Their identities seemed to fill out the hierarchy of the deposed ruling family that once governed the Imperium, a vast empire that dominated Iqui for over five hundred years. Elaine soon realized that the prison she was in was more of a political prison, one probably meant to dispose of the vanquished silently and anonymously. The biggest problem was that while their identities were being revealed, details of their imprisonment, or even of the civil war itself, remained elusive. They could remember the emotional bonds that existed between them, but Elaine remained frustrated that she didn't even know if the Imperium was good or bad, if it still existed, or even if they were on the morally wrong side of the war.

It was difficult for those with newly discovered identities to keep it secret, especially once Matthew's was revealed. Though he possessed the most disciplined mind, not even he could remember his identity alone. He was the former Vice-President of the Imperium, named Matthias Ruliche. Immediately he became the de-facto leader of their group, making Elaine virtually irrelevant. Though she conducted the sessions, and organized their covert meetings, Matthew gave the orders, and set the agenda and timetable. It was he they now looked to, he whom they strove to protect.

Elaine was discouraged that her identity had not been revealed. No matter how deep anyone immersed themselves in the meditation, when they looked at her, she was still just Elaine. She mentioned this in passing to Matthew, who responded cryptically.

"Perhaps there is a key to your identity. You need to keep searching to find it."

The entire process was unbelievably draining to her. While it was exciting to see men she knew suddenly come alive, and have a new purpose, with each new identity revealed there was a new concern. Already Luke had injured eight men who were more than persistent in trying to sleep with him. She felt the guards also knew something was afoot, as they scrutinized her more each time she passed them by.

The one bright spot was Ronald. Because the meditation group was after the normal hours of operation for the counselors and guards, there was less security as they headed back to their cells. And with Philip usually being the guard on duty, she had managed to slip Ronald in her office for an hour, while Philip waited nearby. She knew it was another big risk, knew she shouldn't satisfy herself in that way, but part of her also felt Ronald was getting desperate, and needed to be placated.

After the first few minutes in his arms, awkwardly positioned in her chair, she forgot what regret was, and surrendered to the excitement and enjoyment. They played for most of the hour, leaving them only a few brief minutes to speak to one another.

"Things are too quiet," he said, as he ran his hands through her hair. "Ian and Darren haven't been made a sound."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Only two possible reasons; either they've given up, or they're ready, and just waiting for the right moment." His words sent a shudder down her spine. "The auditors are arriving in three days. Could they be waiting for that?"

"Personally? I think not," said Elaine. "The prison is running even more rigidly, and there will be no slack from any of the guards. In fact, this probably should be the last time you stop by, until after the auditors leave. I think the day after they leave would be a prime time to strike. All the guards will be celebrating how great things were, and even Todd will probably gorge himself on something in celebration."

Ronald's eyes lit up, for a moment betraying a fire within. "Then maybe things _should_ go bad. Then the auditors will give Todd a timetable for improvement, and he'll be even harder on the guards!"

She held him close. "Thank you, Ronald."

"Anything for you, Lainey. I'm just glad I was able to spend this time with you. I've felt so alone lately. Even though I'm in your groups, with all those people finding out who they really are, I don't know. I just seem irrelevant now."

"You're not to me," she whispered. "I feel more like you. I also have no alter-ego, or whatever. When I look in the mirror, I know there is something else, something _more_ , but I'm unable to see, and no one else sees it either. Matthew thinks there may be a trigger—perhaps someone we haven't yet found will recognize me. Or maybe a certain situation will cull the memories out. Perhaps the same will happen to you."

He shrugged. "Who knows? I got to be with you, so anything's possible."

As she watched him leave, he seemed to walk with a regal bearing, as if he was used to carrying heavy responsibility on his shoulders. She knew he must also be part of this vanquished foe.

_What if he is even more important than Matthew?_ she thought to herself. _Matthew now is in command, and if ever they were to be released, he would control not only them, but any remnants of the followers of the old Imperium. He has an immensely strong mind—who knows what he is capable of._ The fire she saw in his eyes kindled some doubt deep within, and as she quashed it in her mind, something else, some voice deep down within, cackled in riotous laughter.
Part IV: Manipulation

Chapter 14

The prison was winding down from another long day. Maintenance euals swept and disinfected the halls, while security euals were just coming online for their nightly patrol. Isaac had retreated to his lair of cameras, leaving no soumans in sight, other than those behind bars. Elaine stopped as she neared her suite, to glance back at her unfortunate home.

_Sometimes it feels like a zoo, and the euals are the keepers. They are the only ones with true freedom_. Their blue eyes, when regarded from afar, appeared as a long, undulating, ghostly snake, circling the soumans, ready to constrict around their necks. On the surface they seemed docile and even awkward with their ovoid bodies, but Elaine knew the specs of the automatons, and they were heavy, quick, and persistent. _Ah well, nothing I can do_. She turned, set a hand on her door handle, and though she tried to move, tried to turn the handle, she found her arm and hand were petrified in place.

At first, she knew she had been in this situation before, and had an extreme case of déjà-vu. Her arm shook as she tried to turn the handle, but something inside her, another presence, wouldn't let her. _I can't fight this – I've got to understand it_. So she eased on the pressure, and took a moment to catalogue the scene in front of her. _It's late, I'm outside my suite, no other souman is around. I have to go in there, as there is nowhere else to go. I just left my office, and Ronald, and Philip by now has taken his post outside the main entrance to the cell blocks_. She thought for a moment longer, putting the pieces together. _If someone wanted to surprise me, wanted to corner me, this would be the best place. No one could hear me scream, and if they had any authority, they could even command the euals to lock me in_. It was then that she regained control of her hand. Suddenly, small details were revealed to her. The handle was turned down, just slightly, signaling someone had been through, as she always snapped the handle back up to make sure it was locked. She examined the handle even closer, and found it was slightly greasy, as if someone with perspiration on his hand had touched it. She then noticed an odor in the air, and while she couldn't pinpoint it as it was too faint, she knew it could only be coming from whomever passed inside, as it wasn't her odor, and the euals had recently disinfected the corridor.

_So, someone is waiting for me inside, and means to do me harm_. She nodded to herself, now prepared against the fear and surprise, and opened the door.

"Hello, Lainey."

The room was dark, with only the light of the hallway drifting in. But she didn't need the light to know who it was. She flipped the switch, flooding her suite with light, and threw her briefcase down.

"Why are you here, Todd?!"

Todd smiled wryly. "I'm tired of playing games, Lainey."

"What does that mean?" she asked, with one foot still inside the door.

"Oh _Elaine_ , why don't you come in already! After all, if I wanted, the euals could close that door and snap off your leg."

She closed it with a snap, and sat opposite him. "Fine. What do you want?"

"You can't be that naïve. You certainly aren't that dim."

She could feel in her bones what he was about. There was a bulge in his pants, his brow was covered in sweat, his hands were fidgety, and he couldn't keep his eyes on her face. "Why would you do this, Todd? You, of all people? You just don't seem the type."

"What, the type to run around with the prisoners, like Colin?" He paced back and forth, showing her only chair, picking up this or that object just to slam it back down again. "The type to get satisfaction from another, like Isaac? Or the type to lie with a smile, like you."

She cringed in her seat, as she knew her secret was exposed.

"Damn you, _damn you!_ " he screamed, his blubber quivering like a mass of gelatin in an earthquake. "Fucking around with that _shit_ Ronald, when you could've had someone of refinement, of intelligence, like myself."

Her mind raced, trying to find a way out, but the only avenue of escape involved killing Todd, and there were too many unknowns for her to take that option seriously.

"So what do you intend to do – rape me?"

Todd threw up his hands. "What else would you have me do? I could have you executed right now. You have crossed a line, and as such, your life is in my hands. I could ruin you, professionally, financially, make it so that you'll never do anything in your life but pick up dead bodies and clean sewer lines. And all your little friends, all the little shits you pal around with, like Luke and John, well, I just might have to let Isaac have his way with them _permanently_. Or, you could lie down, pretend I'm Ronald, and let me have my way."

A part of her screamed for vengeance, screamed to be let loose, to exterminate the foul waste of flesh before her, but Elaine maintained firm control over her body and psyche, and just listened, hoping a way out would make itself known. _Serendipity can be a powerful adversary_ , said something inside her. _One just has to know what to look for_.

"Now, I'm sure you could choose that option of leaving, Lainey. Or, you could even choose to fight, and who knows, you might even make it to a knife, and end my great life. But I think I see something else in you. You're on a mission, and though I haven't figured out what it is, I know you're on one just the same. You can't leave, can't kill me, because it would mean failure for you. And if there's one thing I know about you, is that you despise failure."

"Which is why I despise you," she said through clenched teeth. "Someone who has failed to keep themselves in any semblance of shape. Someone who can't control their impulses, who can't even restrain themselves!"

Todd grinned a toothy grin, one with small bits of food pressed back against yellow enamel. "Good try, Lainey, but my mind's made up. Now, are you going to get undressed, and lie there like a good girl, so I can get this over with?"

When it was done, and Todd left, Elaine curled in a ball and cried.

_Why did you take it?!_ screamed a voice inside her. _Why didn't you kill him, wring his fat neck, cut open his jugular with your nails, twist off that little prick of his – anything?!_

She got into the shower, avoiding the mirror, avoiding even looking at her body. She just stood under the hot water, shaking a little as she stared off into nothingness.

Why didn't you let me rise! Why didn't you let me in control?!

"I don't even know who you are. And more importantly, Todd was right. I have something to do, here, and while I might need to know who I am, who you are, there are also many who count on me, who need me, who might fail without me. For them I accepted that sacrifice."

Sacrifice! I never sacrifice! I come first, my life, above all others!

"Maybe you, but not me." Elaine nodded to herself, as the voice inside faded away with the water, down the drain.

The next day, she worked out with the prisoners again. She had built up a great deal of muscle mass, and was even able to rival some of the larger men in lifting. But today, she wasn't focused, and ended up not only dropping a lot of weight, but slamming the weights around. Twice she almost called Blake, who was circling around the perimeter, to have him beat down someone who wouldn't get out of her way fast enough. When she was nearing the end of her workout, and was walking around to cool down, Matthew came up and spoke with her.

"What's wrong?"

"What are you, my boyfriend?" she snapped. "I only hope I have better taste in men than you."

Matthew's expression barely flinched, and he asked again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, nothing."

Matthew nodded, and continued to walk with her around the weight room.

"Todd . . ." she began, struggling to keep her composure. "Todd came by, last night."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, but kept the same expression. "Why did you let him live?"

"If I killed him, all the work we have done, all that we have left to do, would be lost."

"You did this . . . for us?"

She shrugged tiredly. "I suppose."

"Elaine," he said, as he came to a stop, forcing her to stop as well. "I can't say anything to make this pain go away. I can't hold you, or give you the comfort you deserve as a souman being, because I am a prisoner. But you must know that many soldiers make sacrifices for the good of their unit, for the good of their country. For we are at war, my love, with those who seek to break us, seek to keep us in stasis. We have all taken punishment and pain, whether it be Luke with his sexuality, or John with the excessive beatdowns he's suffered. You cannot wage war without setbacks, and it is how you deal with those setbacks, with those defeats, that tell if you are deserving of victory."

"But we lost, didn't we?" she asked weakly. "That's why we are here, contained with all this filth."

"Who knows what battles we fought, and who knows what battles we shall fight again? All I can say, is that John _proved_ himself to be the greatest of warriors when, through all the torture, all the abuse, he persevered! Luke _earned_ my undying respect with his ability to accept what was done to him, what was thought of him, and move on! And you Elaine, while you earned my respect long ago, I now know you must be someone truly remarkable, to sacrifice what you did for us. _You are magnificent_!"

She smiled awkwardly, as a great feeling of joy and warmth ran through her. She began to well up, and wanted to embrace him tightly. But Matthew held up a hand to stop her.

"Stop, dear Elaine. This is more of the sacrifice that we must make. We cannot hold each other, cry into each other's arms for comfort. We must remain alone, and endure. Above all else, we _must_ endure."

They stood as two great trees, separated by a wide field, whose branches have bent in sympathy to one another, but can never touch. Only words like fallen leaves carried by the winds of thought could bridge the gulf.

"Yes, Matthew, we shall. I shall."

That night, she knelt beside her bed. She didn't sleep in it the night before, after Todd had left. It sat, still disheveled, the imprint of his bulk still obvious in the mattress. It was late, well past midnight, and yet she still knelt beside her bed, waiting, wondering.

_Am I doing the right thing? Should I do as this thing inside me wants, and go the way of blood and death, or should I keep true to these people, to their future, and make who knows what other sacrifice will be asked of me later on? I feel so impotent, so out of control, sitting here, locked in this room. There is no one in my bed for me to talk to, no friend to call to debate with, who would play the advocate to test my decisions. It all is in my mind, in this room, with these four walls. And I can't even get up the courage to sleep in my own bed_. She curled up on the cold ground with only her bathrobe to comfort her, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 15

"You're getting too close to your patients!"

Sarah's words were the first ones to greet her as Elaine sat down for her personal monthly counseling session. These sessions were mandated by the prison board, as any psychological problems left untreated in a counselor could be exploited by the prisoners. Though Elaine despised Sarah, she also knew Sarah was a skilled therapist, and as the only one who didn't hold regular groups she could maintain a dispassionate attitude toward what went on.

But Elaine rarely capitulated to anything she suggested, as evidenced by her angry retort. "What do you expect? Our offices are in the cell blocks – we can't go outside! The only people we socialize with are other doctors, guards, or inmates. You don't tell us what they have done, so no matter how good an imagination I might have, nothing can ever compare to the truth."

"Blake told me of your workouts, of your long talks with Matthew. You can't spend time like this with them – you just can't!"

"Matthew's harmless, and – "

" _Elaine_ ," she said compassionately, dropping the aloof attitude she usually carried. "You know why you're here. While this meditation group you've started has calmed things down, it has come at a sacrifice of your independence. You're now thought of as more an inmate than a counselor—I've heard it mentioned in the other groups. While they trust you more than ever, you are losing whatever authority you have, and those outside of this 'clique' you've established soon won't respond to any counseling you offer. You'll lose the ability to hold others accountable to their actions, be unable to dispassionately analyze a prisoner's mental state. Both you and Oliver just can't seem to keep your distance!"

"Oliver?"

"Yes. I know you don't like him, but he's been as aggressive as you concerning the tension around us. Except he's been trying to break up those who follow Ian and Darren, with limited success. He even has a few informants, who are keeping him apprised of the situation." Sarah leaned back. "Now, why are you so close to these prisoners?"

Elaine gritted her teeth, and tried to calm herself down, though more and more she just wanted to strike out at anything and anyone who frustrated her. Despite her talk with Matthew, she was still full of fury concerning Todd, and her untenable situation as a veritable prisoner, like the others. She worked out more than ever, in the vain hope it would diffuse her tension and stress, but all it did was hone her body into a more effective weapon that begged to be used. "As I said, we've gotten close because the barriers between them, and me, are breaking down. The psychological barrier, that of their classification as 'inmate,' means nothing after the passage of time. The guards have no emotional depth to them, and hold themselves aloof from all of us. And we, that is, the other counselors, we all are too burdened by the things we learn about our patients, that we can't interact with one another effectively."

Sarah nodded. "A good assessment. How do we correct it?"

Elaine let out a long sigh. She hated when a teacher would take this kind of path, a 'you can figure it out for yourself' mentality. _But . . . I have no memories of being 'taught.' I never had a teacher, stand over me, and tell me what to do. A part of me says I did, but now, I know otherwise._

"Elaine? Are you still with me?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, "I guess I'm just tired."

Sarah nodded, as if an epiphany had been reached. "I think you've hit on it! Interacting on this close an emotional level with any patient is emotionally exhausting, and with prisoners who have committed heinous acts, it's even more so. Fatigue is a well-documented side-effect of this position." She wrote down a few more notes and closed her notebook with a snap. "I am giving you and Oliver two days off, the duration to be spent in the detox rooms."

Elaine instinctively wanted to argue, to fight her, to tell her she was wrong, but deep down she knew Sarah was right. Matthew's stature was frustrating her, the attitude of Ian and Darren was frustrating her, even Ronald's absence was frustrating her in more physical ways. She hadn't yet had to face Todd, but she didn't know if she would be able to restrain whatever anger was inside her for much longer.

"Yes . . . alright." Elaine let out a long sigh, glad to be absolved of the increasing amount of responsibility she had accumulated, happy that someone else had solved her problems for her. "But what of the auditors?"

"I think things are going pretty well—we shouldn't have any problems. And this is an _order_ , Elaine. You are to have _no_ contact with any prisoner for the next two days—that goes for Oliver too. And I know you hate him, for whatever reason. But get to know him. You two have a lot in common, and I know if you two were able to form some kind of bond, you could use each other as a support mechanism to weather these times of stress and fatigue better."

Elaine headed back to her office to gather a few things, her path taking her along the long stretch of corridor that just overlooked the lower bank of cells. Tannis coined the path 'The Gauntlet' to every new counselor, as it was a stretch that put the inmate cells into the closest visual contact with the counselors. She allowed herself brief glances at the inmates as she passed them by, and could see the change had already happened. While there was always a good degree of taunting, of catcalls especially to Sarah or Elaine, now there was silence. Deafening silence. Elaine could see the eyes of the prisoners following her, not only undressing her, but defiling her as well. And the grins beneath those eyes revealed they believed their dreams could come true.

_The storm is coming_ , she thought to herself, as she gathered up a couple of confidential notebooks and headed out to her suite to pack the remainder of what she needed. _Somehow, I think Todd knows of it too. That wasn't the act of a man who thought he would be here for a long time – either he's going somewhere, or I am_.

It was then that it hit her, the full force of the conspiracy that was the Manipulator.

_How stupid I've been! Just as we were discovering our identities, Sarah takes me out, and puts me in this confinement? My meditation group won't be held, no one else will learn about themselves, in fact, some may even be reconditioned by the Manipulator_. She rushed to her suite, and into her bathroom, standing in front of her mirror, peering into the depths. _Are you laughing at me? I allowed myself to be raped, and now I'm allowing myself to be fooled_. She pounded on the surface of the mirror, making a few long cracks along its surface. _Are you listening to me?! Why didn't you tell me what to do?! Who are you?!_ She leaned over on the sink, sobbing into the white basin. One of her hands was bleeding a bit from a crack in the mirror, and she watched as the blood mingled with her tears. _Blood and tears, it's what every criminal longs to see from their victims_.

"And you are playing the part of a victim so well."

Elaine jerked up to face her reflection, but found only herself looking back.

It was a short walk to the detox rooms, but one she rarely took. Located just past the medical bay, before the maintenance room for the euals, sat a large suite with two bedrooms. Used for select new prisoners during their first weeks of incarceration, they were meant to ease the transition from the outside world to one of restraint. But as they hadn't gotten a new prisoner since well before Elaine joined, there was never a need to see them.

She opened the door to find Oliver lounging on one of the sofas in the center of the suite. His lanky limbs hung off the edges, and he seemed the picture of total relaxation.

"Hello, Lainey!" he cried, with a lazy wave of his hand. "Looks like we've become prisoners too, for a few days. Kind of ironic, since Sarah said we were identifying too much with them."

Elaine harrumphed as she crossed over to one of the bedrooms. She saw Oliver had already claimed one, so she threw her things in the other.

"Isn't it nice?"

"What?!" she spat.

He pointed upwards. "Look up."

She did, and staggered back for a moment. _The sky_. She had forgotten how long it had been since she had seen the sky through an unfrosted window. Not even Todd's office had an unobstructed view of the outside world, and the central skylight in the center of the prison was frosted. It was apparently a beautiful day, with lazy white clouds drifting across the sky.

"Makes you wonder what's really going on out there," said Oliver wistfully, as he sat up. "We never get any news, only those damned shows on the AVs. I would give anything for any scrap of information about who is doing what out there. We've only been in here for six months, but already I can't remember what was going on, and who was doing what."

She plopped in a chair across from him. "I know there was a civil war, and that one side lost, but I don't even know how it was won or what it was all about."

"It's the damned mental tech they use on us. You never know how it will affect you. One time, when I was speaking with Todd, he let slip that there are suppression fields in place, to negate the part of your memory that deals with non-personal recent events. It supposed to be so that the prisoners won't miss a world they're never going back to, so we won't mention it in a slip of the tongue."

Elaine deigned to sit on the same sofa as Oliver, on the opposite side. "I feel like there are too many mental games going on. From disguising the food, to nulling our memories – it's a wonder they even need the cameras! Why don't they just steal our thoughts while we sleep, to see what we've done?"

"Who says they don't," said Oliver, with a smile. "But, we can't think of that. What we have to figure out is how we're going to survive two whole days with almost nothing to do."

Elaine nodded, as the door slid open. A eual brought in a large tray with what appeared to be stacks of sweetbread with syrup, and grilled sausage with a greenish juice. The eual set it down in front of them, then left.

"That smells really good," said Elaine, suddenly getting hungry. "There can't be enhancers in here, too?"

Oliver reached over, and picked up a sausage. "This feels _too_ real . . ." He rolled it over, sniffing it. Finally, he took a tentative bite. "This _is_ real!"

"Real food?!" cried Elaine, as she dove into the tray of food before her. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all . . ._

It soon was night, and more food was brought in. They spent the day arguing briefly over what station to watch on the large monitor, until Oliver discovered a classical music performance, and they both relaxed on the sofa and let its beauty mesmerize them. Some wine brought mid-afternoon certainly helped, and by dinner, they were laughing with each other, Elaine wondering why she ever hated him.

"You know Todd's really serious about losing weight this time. He's actually running every day."

"Yeah," she said somberly, the accumulated joy from the food and the wine dissipating in an instant.

"You ever notice 'the hand?'"

She spat out some wine laughing. "How do _you_ know?!"

"Sarah might be a little too fat and wrinkled for some men, but nothing female is beyond Todd's desire. I overheard her complaining to Michael soon after I got here about his roving hand."

"It's so damned sick!" she shouted, laughing. She poured herself another glass, and emptied half its contents in an instant, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. It nulled her depression, and as she took a deep breath, she even felt a little better. "I mean, that sick little hand goes under the desk whenever I turn to leave, and all I want to do is vomit."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Oliver dreamily. "We sure got some characters here. I hear you've been working with Matthew and his clique?"

"Yeah. We've . . . made some progress, especially with the meditation I've been teaching them. But what about you? Sarah told me you're actually turning some inmates away from Ian and Darren?"

"Yes, but too few, and not the really important ones. I mean, in Section D9, are those really heinous ones that we aren't even allowed to deal with. Well, they form the core of whatever Ian and Darren are planning."

Elaine leaned forward. "Whatever it is, it's gonna happen after the auditors go."

"What makes you say that?"

"Things are too quiet. Ian and Darren are beyond the planning phase—they're ready. They're just waiting for the right time. Nothing will happen while Todd's getting everything ready—all the guards are too busy doing their job. But afterwards, when everything turns out good, and they relax, is when Ian and Darren will strike."

Oliver got up, and began to pace around the room. Her eyes lingered on his form, and as much as she hated to admit to herself, she found him attractive. While outside the detox room she felt he was a cloying, mealy-mouthed coward, here she saw confidence and strength in him, balanced by an easy-going attitude that engendered loyalty and respect. "A sound tactic, but . . . what can they do?" he asked. "After the incident with Luke and the gun, any and all technical malfunctions with the prison's computers have been addressed. It would take a guard to let them out now, and I don't think any of them are that suicidal."

Elaine nodded. "True."

They sat in silence, as the classical performance drew to a close. Elaine let out a yawn.

"I think it's time for bed."

"Before you go, could you do one thing for me?"

Elaine glanced at him quizzically, hoping he wasn't making an advance on her, though in her mood, she probably wouldn't turn anything down.

"What is it?"

"Teach me this meditation you've been doing."

Elaine smiled eagerly. "Alright! Sit up straight, and place you hands in your lap."

"Like Todd?"

Elaine burst out laughing. "No, not like Todd!" She hadn't felt this relaxed since she could remember, and hated the thought that it would end in another day. "Just relax, and I'm going to count back from ten to zero."

She went through the steps of the meditation routine, and finally, Oliver sat before her, completely relaxed, feeling the warmth leave his head.

"Now," she continued, "when the color of the space above your head feels cool, feels like the blue of the sky we saw, open your eyes."

Oliver did, as he was looking at her. He almost jumped out of his chair, and she understood what was happening.

"What is it?! What do you see in me?"

"I . . . I _know_ you!" Oliver shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, but he could still see the truth before him. "I've always known you."

"Who am I?!" demanded Elaine, anxious to finally know who she was.

"You're . . . you're my sister."

Quickly, she calmed herself down, and entered into a meditative state. Within a few minutes she opened her eyes, and saw a version of Oliver she had not expected.

He had a kindness to his face that almost brought tears to her eyes. It was a face she had seen too many times to count, one that always gave a supportive word or glance, one that was with her during her brightest moments and her worst failures. She knew he was someone who would never leave her, who would sacrifice his own life for her. He was younger than her – her baby brother – but he had a passion and ferocity that could have catapulted him well above her. He was her brother, Olymphant Abraham, son of . . . son of . . .

_I almost know_ , she thought to herself. She strained harder, focusing all her energy on his face, on the feeling he conjured within her. _There is a face that brings me even more joy than his. A face I saw when I was first born, a face who taught me to be a woman, taught me compassion and loyalty._

"I can feel your struggle," he whispered. "I also struggled to see the face of our mother, when I recognized you. But I couldn't make the image come clear. It's as if—"

"Wait!" She shouted in a hushed whisper. "Listen!"

Outside the door of their suite, she could hear the sounds of footsteps passing by.

"What is it? Probably just some guards."

"There's nothing to guard here," she whispered. "The only thing past these rooms is the eual maintenance facility."

"Well, maybe they're just euals, returning to power down."

"Their footsteps are too irregular to be governed by artificial sentience."

Oliver was shocked by her observation. "How can you tell?"

"I just can. Come on."

She crept to the door, with Oliver close behind. It was a sliding door, that had a proximity-based opening mechanism. She disabled it, opening a small panel nearby to open it by hand.

"Take a look out," she said, as she groaned with a lever that probably hadn't been used for many years. "Do you see anyone?"

"It's dark," he whispered. "Someone's talking." He suddenly darted back it. "Close it!"

She strained with all her might to quickly close the door. As it shut, a silhouette could be seen walking by.

"Here, let me," said Oliver, as he took over at the lever. "You look."

He opened the door, and Elaine peered outside. In the darkness she could make out one tall figure speaking with someone inside the eual maintenance bay. She leaned slightly against the doorsill, and focused on his words.

". . . and this is the last night we can be doin' this, a-ffermaitve?"

"We're payin' you enough," said a voice she knew to be Ian's. "And when the time comes, you'll get it all! Todd'll be dead, the damned docs gone, and we can make our own little paradise."

Elaine pulled back in, and motioned to Ian to close the door.

"Who was it?"

"Ian. And Blake. I now know how they're going to take over the prison."

"How?"

"They'll use the euals. They must be reprogramming them. The euals will open the cells, possibly even slaughter us. And with us dead, along with Todd, control will fall to Isaac and his little band of thugs."

They sat up a little while longer, but the mood was shot. For a short while, Elaine related to Oliver all she had been doing with the prisoners, to make them recall their identities. Oliver grinned in admiration at all she had accomplished in secret, and at the end hugged her, as a brother would a sister. She hugged him tightly back, even shedding a tear, as she finally knew who she was, and had a connection that went beyond friendship. _I have family, and this bond can never be broken. No matter what they do, what they throw at us, we will be there for each other. I am not alone!_ Suddenly, Elaine knew what had to be done.

"We must reprogram the euals."

Oliver nodded in agreement, but had some reservations. "What if they come by tomorrow night? What if they decide to double-check the programming?"

"Then we die, a little earlier than we should have. We must do this, must reprogram the euals."

"Why not just tell Todd? He can have Blake and Ian terminated."

Elaine sat back, rolling over in her mind Todd's . . . visit, to her quarters. "Because Todd is our enemy too, or have you forgotten? We are people who have had their memories changed, their identities wiped. And Todd is the only one who knows all about it. No, we must turn this into an opportunity for us. We may supposedly be counselors here, but something tells me we won't be released in another six months like we should be. Six months is probably how long we have to live."

Oliver sighed, acknowledging the truth of her words. He then gazed at her for a few moments, as a gentle smile came to his lips.

"What is it?"

"Something in my mind tells me you were always the pacifist – my older sister who didn't like killing. How is it you're so . . . mercenary now?"

"Because the time demands it of us. We _must_ escape!"

"Where would we go?" asked Oliver, bringing up a nagging doubt in Elaine's mind she had tried to avoid. "History had been written against us, and we have been judged to be the vanquished."

"We wouldn't be alive if there weren't any supporters for us – there is a place, somewhere for us. If we had been executed, we would have become martyrs. As it is, if necessary, the government can draw us out, and parade us around as prisoners, humanely treated. Or drug us, mentally recondition us, and have us say whatever propaganda they wish. There is a reason we're still alive, and I feel sure it lies outside these walls."

"I feel so good in this room," continued Elaine, as she raised her fists. "I feel as though this room is utterly clean of any mental manipulation. I'm sure Todd would never have put us in this room. We should thank Sarah, because unwittingly she has sealed the fate of our jailers."

In the morning both Oliver and Elaine woke early to witness the rise of the sun. While they couldn't see the horizon line, they could watch as the sky transitioned from dark blue to light blue, to a faint orange. They sat and marveled in silence as lazy white clouds drifted across the small viewport they had into the world, and it mesmerized them like primitives watching a moving picture.

A eual came to bring them breakfast, and Elaine and Oliver took the opportunity to re-familiarize themselves with its inner mechanisms. All counselors had a mental download of the fundamentals of the euals, for in the extreme emergency of a total prison takeover by the prisoners the euals would immediately switch to pacification mode and work to defeat the inmates.

"We only have about five minutes. That's the maximum delay time euals allow before alarms start going off."

"I _do_ remember _some_ things," rebuked Oliver gently, as he pried open the machine's back cover. "I got the same download as you."

With the cover off, several complex motherboards were visible, along with a small interface for a terminal hookup.

"Did you see them with a terminal?" asked Oliver.

"No, but it was dark, and I only got a brief look at them. They probably used the one in the maintenance bay, and rewrote the commands by hand."

"That would've taken them almost four hours."

"Who knows how long they've been working on this." Elaine prodded some more into the eual. "This sure is primitive stuff."

"Primitive?" asked Oliver, shocked. "These are ninth-generation OLMAC meta—you remember the download. The only thing more advanced is restricted to military use."

"I know, I know, it's just . . . where are the laser-coded relays? And this still uses micrometa processors—I don't see any EM processor spheres." She sighed. "No wonder they're so slow."

She felt Oliver's eyes on her. "You really believe what you're saying, don't you?"

"Yes. I know it to be true. Come on, we've got to let this thing get back on its way."

After they put its cover back, and the eual left, Elaine sat back down, thinking for a moment.

"What's my name?"

"E—oh, you mean your real name?"

"Yes. You never told me, brother."

Oliver chuckled. "Iona Abraham, daughter of the . . . daughter of the—president?"

Something clicked in both their minds.

"Yes! Now it makes sense. President Abraham . . . was our mother. You were her . . . advisor, and I was . . . I was . . ."

"A senator," he said confidently. "The first daughter of a president elected in the Imperium." Oliver took a deep sigh, with a wide smile. "Good thing we hated each other. I would've hated to have had sex with my sister."

"Now, that can't be a coincidence. And no one ever questioned why I hated you, or you I. Todd has many, many secrets, and we must find a way to pry them out of him."

Oliver sat next to her, close, almost intimately. "Give me your hands."

Elaine's interest was piqued, and she placed her hands in his. He squeezed them both, not hard, but firmly.

"Can you feel this," he asked, "this connection? How many times have you held my hand, in the course of your life? How many times have we waved goodbye to one another, with these hands. I can dimly recall you helping me to my feet, after I fell of some kind of bike. I see, through a haze, these hands of yours wearing white gloves at your ceremony of joining, and wiping a tear of joy from my eye. No matter what may happen, sister, my love, we shall always have this connection. Reclamation of our title or power is irrelevant, compared to this familial bond."

"Oh, Oliver!"

She embraced him tightly and wept openly into his shoulders, and for a brief moment, he wept into hers. Her chest was filled with a love she had never known before, with a warmth that gave her strength. She may have lusted after Ronald, or felt pity for John and Luke, but something deep inside her knew, that never before in her life had she ever loved anyone like she loved Oliver.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. They hurriedly pulled away, each wiping their eyes and struggling to collect themselves.

"Expecting someone?" asked Oliver, as he went to open it. In barged Sarah, Michael, Simon and Elestor. Simon plopped down on the couch next to Elaine.

"Looky at you two! Man this is the good life."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah, as she sat in a chair and Michael grabbed a nearby bottle and poured two glasses of wine, "but we just couldn't stay away – not on your last day! Do you know how impossible it is to get real food and alcohol in here? And this is the only situation I'm allowed to get it."

"I see," nodded Oliver knowingly. "You condemned us here, just to get some good food."

"What of it?" demanded Michael, as he sat next to Sarah. "You two have gotten your rest, and we get some good food! The auditors see Sarah's treating her counselors well – we all win!"

"Not all of us," moaned Elestor, as he took a drink of the wine. "There have been some . . . deaths."

Elaine grew serious. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing – nothing!" assured Sarah, in a broken voice. "It's just that . . . well . . . Albert and Donald were both found dead last night. None of the cameras showed anything out of the ordinary. No one went to their cells but the euals, to bring them dinner, as they both were on solitary."

"Why were they on solitary?" demanded Elaine. "Both of them were in my meditation group—they both have been model prisoners."

"I don't know. Isaac put them on solitary."

"And that isn't all," said Michael. "Whenever we walk down the hall, by the cells, some of the inmates have taken to 'whooping' at us."

"Whooping?"

"Yeah," said Simon grimly. "They shake their bars, and whoop at us, confronting us with their gaze. It clearly is an attempt to throw us off balance, and shift the balance of power."

"What are the guards doing about it?"

"What can they do? There are too many of them, and Todd is too busy working out to care. I think he wants out of here—that's what all his exercise was about. He wants to put on the best impression for the auditors. He'll probably have the guards do a beatdown the night before they arrive, so the inmates'll be docile and tame."

Sarah let out a sigh. "But we didn't come here to bring you two down—honest!"

"No, you just came to steal our food," said Oliver.

"True, true. Come on you all, let's leave them to their little utopia. Enjoy it, because I have a feeling things are about to get much worse out there."

Finally the night came, and Elaine and Oliver slipped out of their suite and entered the eual maintenance room. Thankfully the only camera was above their room, and turned towards the prison. Oliver kept watch at the door, as Elaine began the slow process of accessing the eual's control program.

There were almost twenty euals in storage, and she knew another ten were in use now, carrying supplies and disposing of trash. At first she hoped to be able to change their programming entirely, but as the night wore on quickly and she had only processed ten euals, she had to switch tactics.

_It takes too long to erase the changes made by Blake, and write a whole new program. As much as I hate doing it, I only have time to change a few lines if I'm going to get through all the euals._ She decided on simply changing the target names. Blake had input the euals were to terminate Todd, herself, Oliver, Sarah, Simon, Michael, Elestor, Matthew, Luke and John. She altered the names, so now all euals save the first ten she altered would attack Ian, Darren, and Isaac.

I hate to do this, but it's either you or me. And I sure want to live.

As she finished the last eual, and was about to leave, a shadow stopped her suddenly. She froze next to a eual, and knelt down to the ground. She saw the shadow move, but saw no footsteps. It came to rest in front of her, and though her eyes saw a figure standing above her, none of her other senses registered its presence. There was no heat from the form, no sound from its clothing or breathing, no sensation of the displacement of air from its volume. She looked up, and saw a face she couldn't name, but that she knew as if it were a reflection.

You've forgotten about me.

Elaine tried to speak, but found she couldn't form the words. She had never felt fear like this, but it consumed her whole.

You always were a whole lot of trouble. You never knew what was best for you.

Elaine couldn't help it, but tears ran down her face. In the distance, a white obelisk seemed to appear from the air itself. It throbbed with life and light, though it cast no shadow, illuminated no eual or table. Elaine felt a terrible pull from the object, not on her body, but on her very soul, and the longer she sat, motionless, the more it hurt her in her core.

_You don't know who you are, don't know where you are, and yet you think you can change things for the better?_ The figure, whom Elaine now recognized to be a woman, let out a long, shrill laugh. _You don't even know who's using you, who's got you trapped! You are the essence of a pawn, my child, and you know not who moves the pieces. Who is Manipulating you?_

"The . . . the Manipulator?" she managed to ask. "Are you saying that all this, this . . . chessgame, is a product of the Manipulator?" She sank onto her knees, lowering her head. _With every step forward, there has been a corresponding step back_. "Then how do I know what actions are truly mine, and which are those precipitated by the Manipulator's control?"

_How do we ever know what actions are the product of our free will, and are the product of the Master-Creator. Except while you could never destroy the MC, you can destroy the Manipulator_.

The woman faded, but the obelisk remained, pulsing now with a bloody light. Elaine knew the woman to be an aspect of herself, but it seemed so different from the image she confronted in the mirror.

Who was I? Who am I? Who will I be?

Elaine's heart pounded within her, the veins in her face felt full and heavy, and she began to lose feeling in her arms and legs. The obelisk seemed to grow in size, and as it did, the euals turned to face it, and knelt before it. She could see words within its surface, words that hovered like a mist and shimmered in the darkness. She couldn't make them out, but she knew they meant something terrible was coming, something she wouldn't understand until it was all over.

"Elaine!"

She was shocked back to reality by Oliver's voice. She shook her paralysis off, and rushed out the room with him, not daring to look back to see what position the euals were in now.
Chapter 16

The morning brought release from their temporary prison. Oliver hugged Elaine, outside her suite, and kissed her lightly on her cheeks.

"No one will know what I know," he said softly. "No one will know of the love I have for you."

She gazed deep into his eyes, holding both his hands in hers. "And none shall know of my love for you."

She could feel the Manipulator's influence, working to alter her feelings toward Oliver, but somehow, her love for him was the anchor needed to rebuff its effects. No longer did he nauseate her; no longer did she despise him. As he walked away, she felt another key had been found that could be used against her jailers.

All the confidence won vanished when she stood above her bed once again.

Can I really let him win?

She came close to the edge of the bed, with the sheets and blankets still in the same position from that fateful night. A faint smear could be seen on the sheets, and the memory of the event almost made her vomit.

_Let me_ , said a voice inside her. _Let_ _me deal with this. I'm very good at dealing with . . . loose ends._

"No. I must take responsibility for what I have done, and see things I've started through to the end."

She whipped the sheets and blanket off with one motion, and threw them in a corner of the room. Gradually, she flipped not only the mattress over, but the box spring as well. Finally, she gradually sat on the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath. _How do the prisoners deal with a sexual assault? They don't have even this luxury of throwing away the sheets, seeking comfort outside their rooms_.

There was a knock on her door.

"Lainey, we're getting' together for some morning chow – met us in the cafeteria," said a voice she knew to be Simon's.

"Alright, I'll be right there."

"Oh, and be on your best behavior. Todd said he'd join us."

She clenched her fists together, and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She gripped the edge of her sink tightly, and gazed into her reflection.

_Let me out!_ screamed her inner voice. _Let me kill him! Let me make him pay, let me make them all pay!_

"How do I know you're not just a product of the Manipulator? That this isn't another wrinkle in its map of our fate?"

One thing you should know is that I am outside of your life. My words, my desires, my thoughts, exist above all your petty influences and imperatives. When I speak, know it to be uncensored, unadulterated, and pure.

Elaine squeezed the sides of the sink even harder. " _I_ am in control, no one else, but me. _I am in control!_ "

The cafeteria was quieter than usual, with most of the prisoners keeping to themselves, sitting in relative silence. Elaine gazed around at them all as she sat down, and found most were stealing glances at her. And as she glanced at the guards, Blake and Colin, she found they were doing the same thing.

_I wonder who knows about what_ , she thought, as she smiled and nodded at Sarah and Michael. _I wonder who knows when it will all happen_.

The tension was only heightened when Todd slowly made his way in, accompanied by Isaac. A couple of the prisoners jeered as he passed by, with some even drawing a finger across their necks, in imitation of slaughter.

"Greetings all!" said Todd, as he managed to sit in one of the regular chairs. It creaked a bit, and he looked a little out of breath, but from a distance, he looked like a normal person, not some hideous freak of nature.

"Todd . . . well, you're looking quite well," ventured Oliver. "How did you do it?"

Elaine was amazed at how quickly a large part of her still wanted to hate Oliver. Even now, the sound of his voice grated on her, no matter what they had been through in the detox room. She took a deep breath, and focused her mind on the face beneath his face.

"Yeah, Todd, how'd you do it?" added Michael, never one to refuse an opportunity to curry favor with a supervisor.

"Willpower, my friends, willpower. Although I admit, I didn't quite lose as much as I would've liked, I think I've made satisfactory progress. Wouldn't you agree. Sarah?"

She nodded approvingly. "Yes, indeed."

As they began to eat, more inmates filed in for breakfast, many of them moving slowly, holding their sides or groaning as they sat.

"Another beatdown?" asked Oliver.

Todd grumbled, as he forced himself to push away his plate of food, after only eating a third. "Yes. As Sarah has probably informed you both, some things have happened during your . . . convalescence. They have developed a particularly bad attitude and some repugnant habits, and I instructed Isaac to break them of their misguided endeavors. No blows to the face, mind you, we wouldn't want the auditors to be offended. But they needed to learn."

They all nodded mutely, knowing it had to happen sometime.

"So, I hope we are all on our best behavior today! Today is our audit, and our guests should be here in one hour. Make sure your groups are up and running on time, and for Holis-sake, keep your stims out of sight! We don't want to give the wrong impression."

"Then don't blame me if I pass out from exhaustion," quipped Michael. "I mean, after all, I didn't have a nice rest-cure like Lainey and Oliver."

"Yes. I would've thought Sarah would have informed me of her decision," said Todd, his demeanor turning dark and serious. "Two whole days in the detox room? You should both be thankful I've been distracted, or you wouldn't have been in there two hours."

Todd's eyes met Elaine's and they both stared at each other for a moment. Oliver noticed, and broke the tension.

"Fine," he spat, swallowing the last of his drink, and banging the glass on the table. "Anything else?"

"Make this _work_ , today," pressed Todd with the most evil eyes he ever cast. "I don't want _any_ fuck-ups. Do it right, and things'll get easier around here. They'll have a brief session with me, then a little trip around our quaint little village, then spend a little time with each of you. Make me look like a pile of shit, and I guarantee this place will make a real prison feel like a rest-cure."

Elaine gathered her supplies and headed down the corridors to her first group. She heard a helicopter set down, and felt it was the beginning of the end. _I wonder who these people are_ , she thought to herself. The vision she had of a woman telling her she was a pawn stuck with her like nothing ever before. _They must know who the political prisoners are. Could it be time to execute them? Execute me? Could Isaac's little revolt actually be sanctioned?_

She was about to turn a corner, when something bid her stop. She could hear two sets of footsteps approaching, and Philip's whining told her who one of them was. For some reason, she felt she wanted to hide, not to let those two know she was there. Behind her was a depression in the wall, which delineated a storage closet. She pressed herself back into it, bringing her hands tightly to her chest, turning her feet sideways.

_Am I actually going to try this, at nine in the morning, with all these lights on?_ A part of her thought it was utter foolishness – she was sure to be spotted. _I can do this . . . I must do this._

Philip stopped just further down the corridor.

"Why are you telling me this?" he whined.

"Because the time has come," said a voice she knew to be Colin's. "A whole lot is going to change. You can either be part of what survives, or what dies."

"You . . . you wouldn't kill me, would you?"

"No, no! Don't be silly. But a whole lot of prisoners are gonna be runnin' around for a little while. You wanna make sure they know they can count on you, or they _will_ get rid of you."

"What about the docs?" pleaded Philip. "What about . . . Lainey?"

Colin chuckled. "You really _are_ sweet on that little bitch! Maybe we should keep her, so you and Ian could share. But I don't think you'd want what's left after he finishes with her. Sorry, wish I could help her, but that little bitch has got her ass all done. If she doesn't die tomorrow, then she surely will tomorrow night." He pushed Philip hard, his gaze narrowing. "Now, you in?"

She heard Philip let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I suppose."

They walked a little further, this time just in front of Elaine. She could smell the stench of Colin, the fear on Philip. She had a brief fright, wondering if she put on too much, or too little deodorant. She pressed the worry to the back of her mind, and slowed her breathing even more.

"They're all gonna fuckin' get it!" cried Colin, as he slammed his fist into his hand. "It's gonna be so _sweet_! No more of this damned bullshit Todd does. Isaac'll run this place the way it was meant to be run. Don't worry 'bout people like Ian or Darren living too long. After the Union –"

the Union?

"–gives control of the place to Isaac, he's gonna wipe away all the shit that's got dreams of power. Any inmate steps out a line . . . _wham_! The hammer comes down." Elaine shifted and twisted a minuscule amount, just enough so that she couldn't be seen by the corner of Colin's eye.

Philip managed to speak. "And . . . you're really gonna be able to get . . . women prisoners?"

Colin let out a loud laugh and darted his eyes darted back and forth, just to make sure no one was coming. He backed up a bit, and Elaine tried to squeeze even more into herself, but there wasn't anything else she could do.

"You're some sick shit, aren't you? Yeah, we'll get some pretty little things in here – Isaac'll see to that. And you can roll around in their damned laundry, if that's what makes you happy." He leaned forward again. "But if you breathe one word of this to anyone, 'specially your precious little Lainey, I'll personally shove every piece of dirty, filthy underwear in here down your sorry throat until you choke up blood and die. You got it?"

Philip meekly nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," said Colin, throwing an arm around him, as they moved off down the corridor. "Now, we gotta figure out what we're gonna have for dinner, to celebrate!"

When they were well out of range, Elaine took a deep breath, and fell to the floor, as she felt lightheaded.

I wish I had reprogrammed the euals to kill you, Colin.

She had decided on a sing-a-long for her group, as it usually got the prisoners in better moods. It was a holiday medley, as few prisoners knew exactly what date it was. They sung of the Forgiveness Festival, chants from the week of Redemption, and a couple of choruses from the Day of Enlightenment.

All through her group she kept thinking on the impending death of Isaac, Ian, and Darren. Ian and Darren didn't concern her, but killing Isaac, no matter how corrupt he had become, seemed to be outside of her bounds. She kept kicking herself that she didn't think of it earlier, to give herself more time and reprogram the euals to restrain Isaac instead of killing him. She knew he had a family outside of the prison, and regretted that some nameless child would now grow up without a father.

_But it was just like that for you, wasn't it?_ said a voice inside her head. She stopped playing, confused for a moment, as the prisoners wondered what was going on. She smiled and continued, and it was then that an auditor came in.

She was a short woman, with long, curly red hair. Dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt, she wasn't heavy but very hippy, to the point that she waddled into the room. She was older, with a small jowl hanging from under her neck. She had a mean expression, and Elaine could tell in an instant that she was used to getting exactly what she wanted. She had small hands that led to long fingernails, and Elaine knew they would rasp on a desk or scratch into flesh if she was irritated or angry.

And yet . . .

There was a shifting to her face. Elaine knew this woman wasn't quite what she seemed to be.

"Alright group, as you may have heard, we're having visitors today, and—"

Suddenly, about a third of Elaine's group, those she knew to be all true murderers, stood up, pulled their pants down, and lifted their shirts up high. Elaine was utterly shocked, until she understood what they were doing. Their bodies were covered with bruises, thick, purple ones, that were caused by Isaac's recent beatdown.

"Please, please!" yelled Elaine. "Put your clothes back on—now!"

"Do it!" shouted Philip, yet without raising his baton. He stood there, relaxed, as the prisoners exhibited their bruises for a few minutes longer. Finally, they pulled up their pants, and down their shirts, and sat back in their chairs, their heads hung low.

To her credit, the auditor seemed completely unfazed, but she did spend a full minute furiously writing in her notepad.

_This was part of it!_ thought Elaine. _This is what's happening in every group, in every cell, when the auditors pass by._ Her mind moved like lightning. _When the prisoners revolt, and Todd is murdered, it will seem like it's because of his own violent policies. Isaac will plead that he tried to countermand Todd's order, but knew he was the final word on authority. And our deaths will be an unfortunate side-effect of Todd's policies._

She gritted her teeth and smiled at Philip, who didn't know what to do with himself under her gaze.

After her group, the auditor sat down with Elaine for a short one-on-one session. They pulled two chairs to face each other, and the auditor shook Elaine's hand with a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm Carol Foster—it's good to meet you! You conduct an excellent group."

"Yes, with some exceptions, of course. That little display isn't what normally happens."

"Elaine, we rarely ever see what normally happens in a prison. Whenever we come, the guards are on their best behavior, the counselors are brow-beaten into submission by the warden, and as for the warden, well, let's just say Todd isn't the first to lose some weight before an auditor's visit."

Elaine let out a chuckle, as did Carol. But Carol quickly got back to business.

"So, why were they all bruised?"

"The inmates have taken to trying to challenge our authority. The prison has become split, between inmates who choose to follow the rules and try to maintain an ordered existence, and those who despise order, and seek chaos. I genuinely think Todd was unsure of what to do with such a large population problem this close to the audit. He ordered the beatdown mainly as a short-term fix, and kept the beatings to below the face for obvious reasons. I'm sure he has some plan to deal with the population problem."

Carol nodded, scribbling more in her notebook, though it sounded more like chicken-scratches than human writing. "I understand you have tried your own method of fixing the problem. Meditations?"

"Yes. It has helped to unify those who want order, and has given them a tool to negate the stress of being incarcerated."

"I don't think meditation will work with your hardened sociopaths, but it certainly has helped the rest." She sat for a moment, gazing at Elaine, before closing her notebook. "Well, that's all I have time for."

"Wait," said Elaine, deciding to take a gamble. "I know you aren't who you seem to be."

"What do you mean?" asked Carol, genuinely shocked and confused. "Who do you think I am?"

"Let's just say, I know who _I_ am, and who others are in here." _This is a big gamble—I better be right_. "I can see in your face that you're not like the others. Why are you here?"

Carol scrutinized Elaine once more, before allowing a brief smile. "It isn't who you are, but where you'll go."

The words triggered something in Elaine's mind. She knew them to be a code, a prompt that demanded to be answered.

"And . . . where you'll go," said Elaine haltingly, the words coming from deep in her subconscious, "is by far a better place."

Carol beamed a wide smile. "As I said, you've done a great job with your group! We will be leaving after dinner—all of you counselors are invited to dine with us and Todd, though I'm sure he won't be in the best of moods."

Carol walked out, as Elaine gathered her supplies, her mind churning with thoughts she barely knew.

_A war? A battle? Many battles? I have seen her face before, at a bad time, in a bad place. Was it a face that brought me hope, or despair? Damned this place!_ She paused for a moment, as she desperately wanted to throw something. _How can I overcome this mental manipulation? How can I find out who I am?_

_Who you are, depends on the moment you are in,_ said a voice within herself. _To think that there is a constant 'you,' is to limit your self and your actions. To be what you were, is to forget all you have learned, and to doom yourself to repeating your mistakes._

At the end of a long day, filled with surprise after surprise for the auditors, they all sat in the cafeteria, at three tables turned to join one another. Carol suggested the counselors sit with the auditors who sat in on their sessions, while Todd sat at the head of the table.

Elaine had never seen him more nervous. Each group played out exactly the same as hers, with a third to a half of the inmates stripping to show their scars. When the auditors made a tour of the cellblocks, many of the inmates did the same, staring at the unwanted guests with evil in their eyes. No one wanted to broach the subject, until Michael stumbled into it.

"So, you see, we normally have a very uneventful day around here."

Todd snapped down his knife and glared at him. "Yes . . . well, it just goes to show the myriad of unpredictables that can surface at inopportune times."

Oliver chuckled under his breath, as Todd straightened even more in his seat. Yartis, the lead auditor, wiped his mouth, and leaned forward.

"While we'd love to sit here and watch you twist in the wind, we really were rather impressed."

Todd glanced around at the other auditors, who nodded their heads in approval.

"You see, we've been to a lot of prisons," continued Yartis, "and what we've found, is—"

As Yartis spoke, Elaine felt a tapping on her foot. She immediately knew it was Carol, and that it was code.

We have been searching for all of you for quite a while. We feared you had been separated, and disguised. This is one of the last prisons I decided to try.

_Are you the only one sympathetic in this group?_ asked Elaine _._

Yes. I need to tell you that this is the worst place to be in, a place we hoped we wouldn't find all of you in.

Why?

This area has some . . . unique properties to it. When we've used satellites to scan for mental signatures, this place, more than any other, has the most amount of distortion along mental wavelengths. We wondered why none of you tried to escape, but being here I understand. Mental manipulation is amplified by the properties of this area.

"—and I must say, this has been a very enjoyable visit!" cried Yartis, as he wrapped up his assessment. Elaine got anxious, and pressed forward.

Is there a way we can destroy the Mental Manipulator?

There was a long pause, then; _this is by far the largest scale we have seen mental manipulation affected on. If you can't find the physical unit, then search for power cables leading to it, or fiber-optic cables leading out. A device such as that would need at least ten emitters to thoroughly blanket a facility of this size_.

We don't have that kind of time!

_Then_ , quickly tapped Carol, as hands were bring shaken and napkins brought up onto the table, _as a last resort, you need to overload its processors. Like I said, it has to be a relatively new machine, and I'm sure it's being taxed to its limit. Have you ever noticed any gaps, in coverage?_

Elaine thought back to the food in the cafeteria, how sometimes she could see or taste the protein paste.

Yes, I have noticed some lapses.

_Then you need to get a sufficiently large number of people to mentally focus against it. To overload it. They need to struggle to remember as much about their past selves, all at once. Hopefully that will trip its failsafe, and send it into default mode, temporarily switching off its effects_.

Elaine nodded to herself, as she knew it was a plan she could accomplish. _Do your people have a way we can get out?_

We are prepared to storm this facility. It will take twelve hours for a team to be in position.

There is a riot being planned for tomorrow night, at 9pm. I have already diffused most of it, but that would be the right time for an invasion.

_We will be ready_ , were the last words Carol could tap before she and the other auditors stood, and left the building, with Todd seeming to bounce along behind to see them out.

The counselors sat at the table for a while longer, relieved at how well things had gone. Only Oliver and Elaine knew that the true trial had yet to begin.

"We have a _lot_ of work to do," groaned Sarah. "We're facing a true crisis. We can't allow half the prison population to exist in defiance of authority."

"I think it's finally become something out of our hands," said Simon. "I mean, we do have our limitations. We were not sent here to cure anyone, or make them repent their murderous ways. We were sent to improve the quality of life of as many inmates as we could. We were sent to make as many inmates as we could more cooperative to a community based on order and accountability. If and when an inmate refuses our help, or acts in defiance of it, is when we turn that inmate over to the corrective actions of the guards and the warden."

"Don't quote SOP with me," snipped Sarah. "You want them dead—case closed! You're not willing to push, to try harder. You have the highest corrective rates in group—the most inmates get beatdown in your sessions than in any other!"

Simon replied calmly; "discipline is the foundation of respect."

"So you would side with the guards you hate now?"

"I would side with those who haven't yet murdered, against those who _have_ murdered."

Sarah sighed. "I never should've let you see those files."

"What do you mean?" demanded Oliver, perking up. "Does Simon know the crimes of the inmates?"

"Now hold on, Oliver," interrupted Michael. "Simon had a certain problem with a few when he first came here. We had just sent the other three counselors home, and the guards had lost two due to promotion. It was a week before you and Elaine came, and the inmates were restless. We had to get Simon up and running fully, no matter the regulations."

"Damned," said Oliver, sitting back. "So Elaine and I have been the only ones in the dark? No wonder we work harder than any of you to help the prisoners."

"And that's another reason I gave both of you the days off in the detox room," replied Sarah. "Now that you've been here six months, I can finally share with you all the details about all their crimes."

"Dammit!" shouted Oliver, as he pounded the table. "All this time – all this time!"

Elaine motioned him to be quiet. "Enough. We need this information, sooner rather than later. Do you have a download?"

"Yes. I can give it to you first thing tomorrow morning."

"Ahh, my wonderful staff!" cried Todd, as he lumbered back into the cafeteria. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

"So they actually liked this shithole after all?" quipped Sarah.

"Yes indeed, yes indeed! After all these many years here, perhaps it's finally time for me to move on. I so grow tired of only seeing sociopaths each and every day, with only you few as a pleasant diversion."

"You've really put in for a transfer?"

"Damned right!" he cried, with an expression of utter relief on his face. "And they seem to think I should definitely get it within a week. One more week!" Todd stood tall, gazing around the cafeteria at the sad souls seated around him. "Seven long days, then freedom! I have felt as though I would never serve the end of this term, but at long last, I have been granted a reprieve."

Sleep was elusive for Elaine, as she tossed and turned in her sheets. She felt she could hear every sound of the prison, from the guards walking back and forth, the euals twisting their metal heads in acknowledgment, to the inmates shaking the bars of their doors, testing to make sure they were secure. No matter how much she told herself that tomorrow would be a big day and that she needed her rest, her body refused to cooperate. Her heart throbbed in her chest, her legs scissored back and forth under the sheets. She kept tensing her arms and fists, trying to work out the last bit of energy that refused to leave. Finally, three hours after she lay down, sleep overcame her.

And as suddenly as she closed her eyes, she seemed to open them again. There was a presence in her room, a dull throbbing terror that demanded to be seen.

" _Your time has finally come."_

Elaine sat up slowly, and at the foot of her bead hovered the faceless woman she had seen before. She was dressed in black—a tight fitting combat uniform Elaine had never seen before. Her mouth and nose were as a single, blank tract of skin, but her eyes blazed like a pair of infernos. Behind her sat the obelisk, but this time it only glowed a blood red. It was small, yet blazingly hot, and to look on it gave Elaine an overwhelming sense of not only dread, but guilt, and shame.

"I . . . don't want to," ventured Elaine, managing to speak. "I am happy with who I am."

" _Happy?!"_ guffawed the woman. _"_ _You are nothing! You placate one, to disappoint another. You hide in the shadows, and watch, but don't have the strength to act. Do you even know what you're going to do tomorrow night?"_

"The euals will battle it out. I'll get the other counselors, and we'll hide somewhere."

" _Hide? Hide?! I don't hide, I stalk, I prey, I conquer! I am who you are to be—a terror the likes of which none can oppose."_

"You are all darkness," whispered Elaine. "There is no pity within you, no compassion. There is no regret, only this fatalism that leads you to murder and death."

" _You speak of death? You will die, if you refuse me. And you cannot refuse me."_

The woman vanished, but the obelisk remained. It shook the ground with its throbbing, burrowing into Elaine's mind and bombarding it with its presence. Elaine fell to the floor, and crawled over to it, seemingly against her will. She reached up a hand, and ran it over the object's surface, her hand covered in blood. She yanked it away quickly, and scurried into a corner, as the object grew in size and influence.

"No, no," she moaned, rocking back and forth, "I don't want to be about death! I am surrounded by people who are about death, and all I see is misery in their eyes.

" _You see yourself reflected in their eyes_ _,"_ said the woman, her thoughts seeming to float in the air around her. _"_ _You are of them, their sister, yet better than them, for you use death with a surgeon's hands, dispensing it only when necessary."_

"No! There must be a better way, a different way!"

" _You are only here because of me. Because I sacrificed my self to do what needed to be done."_

"If you have sacrificed yourself, then how can you ask for thanks? How can you act as if a debt needs to be repaid?"

" _How dare you?!"_ bellowed the unseen voice, as Elaine felt the pull from the obelisk grow even stronger. She felt herself crawling along the floor, against her will, her limbs, her mind, her very soul summoned into the depths of the object. _"_ _You are mine—I cannot be refused!"_

"And . . . yet I . . . must . . ."

Elaine looked up at the obelisk, and saw the words written on its surface with greater clarity than before, yet, seemingly written in a language she couldn't comprehend.

" _You don't know what it says, do you?"_

"No! And yet, I know it means so much."

" _It means nothing_ _,"_ spat the woman. _"_ _It just means you can't read, cannot understand, what is right before you_ _."_ In an instant, the obelisk changed from bloody to shining white, gleaming like a new sunrise. _"_ _This is so far beyond you, you will never fully understand."_

"Elaine?" said a voice, seemingly in a dream. "Elaine!"

She opened her eyes, and found herself in her sheets, on her bed. The room was as it always had been, and standing over her was Ronald, with a worried look on his face.

"Are you alright?" He ran his hand over her face, wiping away what she thought to be tears. "You've been crying out ever since I got here, and I've been trying to wake you up."

"How . . . how long?"

"For ten minutes, at least." He put his arms around her, and drew her close. "Oh Lainey, I'm here now! I don't know what could've been troubling you, but I'm here," he said softly, kissing her forehead. "I'm here."

She slowly came to her senses, and pushed him away. "But how?"

"Philip!" he cried, with a wide smile. "Since the auditors left, and things went well, he said he wanted to thank me, and let me out to come here." He paused for a moment. "You _do_ want me here?"

"Yes— _yes_ ," she said, with growing enthusiasm. She kissed him deeply, and in moments, his clothes were off, and he was inside her. She was tired—actually exhausted, but she needed this closeness more than anything else right now, to banish her terrible dreams. He kissed her face often as they played, and sexed, never seeming more gentle, more attentive to her needs. But as he climaxed, she never felt that it was more wrong. Something about having him on top of her, dominant, and her submission to him, gnawed at a part of herself like few things ever had. But she pushed away the irritation, the hesitation, and welcomed him in, ignoring the smell of death that hung all over his body.
Chapter 17

The chime woke Elaine just before she vomited on her sheets. She felt sticky and foul, inside and out, laden with a heavy fatigue that would not be shrugged off.

The day has finally come.

She raced into the shower, as the nausea threatened to build again. She scrubbed herself almost raw, spending most of her time on her face, almost using her nails to scrape it clean. The water couldn't get hot enough, the pain strong enough to make her forget, to cleanse the sickness from her mind. As she turned the water off, she was blinded by terror for a brief instant.

"Ronald?!"

She had a moment's doubt as to whether he left or not, but it came to her, as if from a thick fog.

He did leave. Just a few hours ago.

He had kissed her face, over and over again. She laughed,

— _I laughed!_

at his gentle, reassuring words. Then, he told her what he thought would be a terrible secret.

Lainey, I've heard, from around, that there's going to be some trouble tomorrow.

_Oh?_ she had asked, appearing dumb.

Some of the inmates are going to riot. I think, they mean to do you counselors some harm. Is there any place you could hide?

_Don't worry, love,_ she had said holding him against her. _I already know. They will be in for an awful surprise._

_But . . . you'll be hurt!_ he had cried. _Wouldn't it be better to just hide, until it's all over?_

What about you? They seem bent on killing all those we have awakened to their new identities.

I'll be alright. Some of them don't mind me, and I think, when the time comes, that they might even choose to overlook me. I'm just worried about you.

Don't be, don't be! In fact, you may taste freedom, before all is said and done.

_What—what do you mean?!_ he had asked, utterly shocked.

_There will be an invasion tomorrow,_ she had said in a low whisper. _You, me, and the others will be freed._

But I . . . I don't even know who I am! All the others know who they were, but you, and I, we don't!

I know who I am. I discovered it a couple of nights ago. And I believe I know who you were.

He had come close, his hands on her shoulders. _Who was I?_

_You had to be my husband_ , she had said, like she was reminding him of his own birthday. _We are too close, not to have been connected before this place. No matter what happens, you are with me_. She had pulled him close. _You are mine._

She watched as his face melted into comfort. A part of her looked even closer, and saw a wry smile, underneath it all.

Thank you, Lainey, thank you! I haven't had someone believe in me, in so long.

_Someone to believe in me_ , she thought to herself, as she buttoned her last button on her shirt. She felt as if she was putting on a uniform of war, though it was the same outfit she wore every other day. _Time to do this. I must remain true to who I know myself to be._

The guards were all naked in their expressions and words. For the first time she saw the true, undistilled hatred within them. Any pretense of civility or respect was gone. She passed by Colin, on her way to her office, and he laughed at her, pushing her through the entrance like she has being herded to slaughter. Blake was leaning against one of the cells, talking casually with an inmate, and didn't even dignify her presence with the smallest glance. She saw Philip dart into a storage room as she approached, and decided to let him hide. Isaac announced the start of the day, in his typical fashion.

"Attention cuntselors and inmates—we got another great day to do!"

She moved like lightning through the hallways, worried the keg could ignite before she was ready. She unlocked her door, flung it open, and slammed it shut, only to find someone was waiting for her.

"Hello, Elaine."

She was genuinely shocked, but knew if he meant real trouble, she would've sensed him earlier. "Tannis – why are you here?"

"Because I know better. I know right from wrong, and something's coming that is _very_ wrong."

Elaine motioned him over to a chair, as she sat behind her desk. "You know they can hear us."

"There's no one in the camera room!" he cried, with a mean laugh. "Isaac _should_ be on duty there, but he just doesn't care anymore. When you're about to release the entire prison population, there's no need to sit in front of a monitor anymore."

"Why are you doing this, and not stopping him?" she demanded. "What do you expect to accomplish, being here?"

A wave of realization spread across his face. "You already know, don't you? Somehow, someone squealed to you. And you're ready for it, aren't you?"

She clenched her fist. "Damn right!"

Tannis laughed. "How is it I always knew you weren't what you appeared to be?"

She sharpened her perception of him, and suddenly wished she could have seen him under her meditation. "What were you, Tannis, before this place?"

He leaned back, pensive. "I forget how little you know about everyone in here. I hear Sarah's gonna give you the master download of the prisoners?"

"Yes."

"You sure won't like what you find. You've befriended a lot of them, and when you know what they've done, well . . ."

"You let me worry about that. Now, who were you?"

"I was a general, in the war. I commanded the second largest platoon of the Union army, and helped us win the final invasion. You have no idea the number of men that know me, that followed me. Philip was one of my best, most loyal men. That's why he's here."

"What happened to him?" she asked, shocked of thinking as Philip as anything other than a weak-willed coward. "He's nothing here."

Tannis took a deep breath as his gaze grew distant, as if looking out on a smoky battlefield of war. "Sometimes you don't find out what truly makes up a man until you see them out of a familiar environment. When there is a clearly defined hierarchy, Philip is absolutely loyal, and able to accomplish great feats of bravery. But if there is doubt, indecision, like there is here, with multiple factions vying for control, and no clear dominant force, he becomes impotent, unable to decide whom to follow. I'm sure I'm to blame for that. I lost my way a long time ago."

"What happened?" she asked.

"There was a power struggle, after the war. This mental manipulation technology was at the center of it. I was opposed to its use against the civilian population, but the majority was for it. I was shuffled to the side, assigned here, in disgrace. I'm sure if I weren't such a good general, if so many men didn't know about me, they would've executed me, or nulled my mind. As it is, I languish here, steward of these bastards."

"If you were a general in the Union, then you must recognize some of these inmates!"

Tannis nodded, as he lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, and gazed at the floor. "When I first came here, I thought I did. But no more. This place, it makes you forget, and I am all too willing to forget about who I was. I may not have been on the losing side in the war, but I lost all the same, and can never go back to who I was."

Elaine sat back, thinking on his words.

Tannis took another long drag before dropping it to the floor and grinding out the fire with his boot. "Well, I don't know what you have planned, but call on me, if you need me. I haven't forgotten all I have done."

Elaine debated with herself, before deciding to take a chance. "What if it meant helping an old enemy—one your men fought against in the war?"

"I'm not sure the right side won," he said with a wry smile.

"Tannis, listen, we need something done that we can't do on our own. We need the Manipulator shut off."

Tannis nodded in admiration. "You _do_ know a lot."

"I don't think you or I even know all of it. I think the Manipulator has been orchestrating it all, and that it means to have all the captive soldiers of the Imperium killed. I think it will get you and Todd killed as well."

"If I were a counselor, I might say you have a bit of a persecution complex."

"I know, I know, but this is the truth. Too much has happened, like moves in a chess game, for there not to be an intelligence behind it all."

Tannis nodded, thinking back. "I think I see some of the patterns you speak of. The Matthew clique, the division of the guards and prisoners – even the bickering I see every day that keeps you counselors divided. It's as if we're being played against one another."

"Can you do anything about it?"

Tannis shook his head. "The Manipulator isn't on prison grounds. They anticipated this scenario, and decided to house it off the grounds in case of a severe insurrection."

Elaine cursed under her breath. "What about emitters around the prison, or data cables connecting to the mainframe?"

He shook his head again. "I've been in too much in a fog to even think about noticing those things."

Elaine crossed her arms, and thought for a moment. "Then we will need to use the last resort. I was told that if we all concentrate at the same time, we might be able to mentally overload the Manipulator. Do you think you can organize it, among the prisoners? I could tell you who to concentrate on."

Tannis smiled. "I've been watching you, more than you know, Elaine. I know those you speak of. What time?"

"Eight o'clock tonight."

Tannis laid a hand on her shoulder. "Consider it done."

Her group was a quiet one, and she felt as if she was just going through the motions. A third of them, the same ones that bared themselves for the auditor, sat back in silence, refusing to even participate. She saw on their faces they believed change was coming, and that they would inherit all.

Philip, though, was all smiles and encouragement. He laughed nervously at the slightest humorous turn of a phrase, paced awkwardly while Elaine spoke. During one of the breaks, she tried to approach him, but he busied himself with lecturing one of the silent inmates. Matthew came to speak with her.

"Are you ready for tonight?"

"Yes. The question is, are you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Matthew.

"One of the auditors is one of us. She promised a strike team will be here at nine, to free us."

"Why are you saying this out in the open?!" cried Matthew in a hushed whisper. "They watch all–"

"Don't worry. They think everything will change tonight. No one is watching the monitors."

"Who will take care of the inmates? The strike team?"

"No. They will be undone by their own weapons. Tannis is also helping us."

"Tannis?!" said Matthew in a hushed scream. "He's a Union man! He fought against—"

"I know, I know," she said, motioning him to calm down, "but he regrets his actions. He is going to coordinate out group of inmates in hopes of disabling the Manipulator."

Matthew gritted his teeth and folded his arms. "I wish you had consulted me about this."

For a second, anger welled in her chest at his arrogance. Yet as quickly as it came, she smothered it, knowing it was not her true reaction.

"Matthew, I respect you – you need to respect me. I have been very careful in combing through the population to find those sympathetic to our cause. I think you know you can trust me now, in this."

Matthew relaxed. "Yes, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"The Manipulator. The sooner it's disabled, the sooner we can truly act united, and get out of this accursed place."

"Ohh . . . uhh . . . it's time," interrupted Philip, with a quick wave of the hand.

Matthew harrumphed with derision as Philip walked away. "Is he part of this mess?"

"Yes. And I pity him for it."

As she and the other counselors walked back to their suite, they were greeted by a raucous cacophony from the cells. The inmates yelled at them, cursed them, shook their bars and threw anything they had inside at them. It was finally all out in the open, and the inmates laughed as they walked to their supposed deaths. Elaine heard from a dozen men what they would do to her, how they would make her beg, and cry. At the exit, Blake stood, leaning casually against a post. He chuckled to himself as they passed through, shaking his head back and forth. After they got to their suites, Sarah came and took Elaine aside.

"What's going on?" she asked, desperate. "They mean to murder us, and I feel as though nothing will stop them. It seems like everyone knows, except me."

"Now you know how _I_ felt these past six months," quipped Elaine. She shook the darkness off, and her expression softened. "I'm sorry. Listen, just stay in your suite, with the door locked. I have learned of a few things, and I assure you, nothing will happen to you."

"How could _you_ promise _that_?!" demanded Sarah. "You don't have a gun, shit, you don't even have a mean look. I need to tell Todd! He's the only one—"

"Todd sold his soul to Isaac and Blake and Simon long ago. There's nothing Todd could do but get killed."

"No, no, no! You don't know what you're talking about! Why didn't you tell the auditors when they were here? Damn Elaine, I oughta—"

"Shut up?" Elaine pushed Sarah against a wall, and let her darker impulses take over. Her arms were as steel, her eyes like the points of bullets, and from her mouth issued the sound of death. "You have no idea what's going on here. _I do_. Without evidence, the auditors would have done nothing. Todd would have done nothing, but pass it off as delusions of counselors who are overstressed and overworked. Do you know what Todd did? He raped me, Sarah. _He raped me_!"

Sarah searched Elaine's eyes, and knew it could be only truth. "When?"

"Just before you put me in the detox room. He waited till I got back to my suite, and he raped me."

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," she cried, her eyes filling with tears. "Why didn't you –"

"Tell you? Because it wouldn't have done any good. Listen, as much as I appreciate your sorrow, your pity, we have no time for this. Tonight the inmates and guards take off their masks, revealing all the pent up evil they have yearned to share. Tonight they mean to feast on us, and we cannot run to Todd, Isaac, or anyone else."

Something in Sarah knew better than to challenge her, and she backed down. "So, I should just hide?"

"Yes. A lot will happen tonight, and I assure you, you will want none of it."

Sarah grabbed onto Elaine's arm, and squeezed hard. "You seem like the kind of person who only wants to do what's right. Well, I'm telling you, one woman to another, that no matter what else happens tonight, Todd _needs_ to die. _That_ would be _right_!"
Chapter 18

Timepieces, whether worn on a wrist or hung on a wall, have little significance in a prison. No inmate bothers to mark the passage of time when no week, month, or year would bring them closer to release. If the hour of the day is forgotten or an appointment missed, a reminder can easily be given by the wrong end of a guard's baton.

Yet on that night, the hour of day was of paramount importance to a large number of inmates. They counted down the hours, minutes, and seconds, until the display showed seven o'clock, cheering mightily when the appointed hour had arrived. For it was then that the euals began their assault.

Twenty metal feet marched in perfect unison, devoid of anger and malice, oblivious to the roles they were to play. They appeared to be singularly focused – even determined – but it was all an illusion. They had no free will, no choice, merely the overridden directive that pushed them forward, step by step. Down the hallway near the detox room and out into the Hub they progressed, their ovoid bodies reminding one of a carton of eggs let loose on a tabletop. Except these eggs split at some unheard command into groups of five, with one group heading for gate control and the other three marching with haste to the cellblocks.

Doors swung open, releasing Ian, Darren and three dozen others who represented the worst of the worst, the most malicious and vengeful of the criminals. They all stepped out slowly yet confidently, relishing their freedom, breathing air that, though the same, seemed infinitely sweeter. Ian cracked his knuckles, Darren cricked his neck, and they broke into a joyful run, as the others followed and cheered them on. Out through the main entrance they ran, into the Hub, on the hunt for the counselors.

The euals regrouped, as their programming progressed into the second phase of their mission. They moved quickly down the cellblock, stopping in front of several cells occupied by Imperium prisoners. Doors opened, screams were heard, and blood was spilt. Limbs were torn off, heads smashed, and before long those still locked-up were banging on their doors, begging to be released.

Suddenly, all the doors swung wide open, and the halls were filled with inmates running and shouting. Isaac had left his post, and Tannis decided to level the playing field, and give those Elaine sympathized with a chance. Matthew struggled out around a eual and motioned to Luke and John, who in turn rounded up the remaining Imperium prisoners. They fell back to a position near the stairwells, where they could outmaneuver the machines. A few of inmates tried to attack them, but Luke, John, and a few of the stronger men easily kept Matthew safe.

The other inmates, seeing the euals press forward against the Imperium prisoners, cheered and began to head for the main exit. They were confronted by a wall of ten euals that refused to move.

"Move aside!" cried one of the men.

"Go kill the docs!" cried another, "we're your masters!"

Instead, the euals pressed forward. A few of the inmates ran in fear, but most of them saw freedom as too close and too attainable a goal. They attacked the euals, beating on them with their fists, trying to pull off their limbs. But these euals were made specifically for prisoner pacification, so their heads retreated into their egg-like bodies, their limbs shortened into thick stalks. The euals were now half the height of an average man, but possessed with ten times the strength. Their metal hands struck out at the legs of the men, either breaking bones or severing tendons. They crippled many of the prisoners, their cries resonating through the darkened complex, as their friends finally decided to retreat.

Some of the euals that Elaine reprogrammed reached Matthew and his group, and began to assault their brethren. The euals engaged in an odd battle, both using tactics meant to be used against soumans. They slashed at each other's legs, tried to punch their chests, but both sides were locked in a stalemate.

The escaping inmates, now utterly frustrated in their attempts to escape, decided to vent their anger on Matthew and his men. Viciously they attacked one another, using parts of the fallen euals to try to gain the advantage. While Matthew's men may have been fewer in number, they possessed years of experience in battle, in hand-to-hand combat. The two tides of soumans clashed against one another, with neither gaining the upper hand.

Though there were no alarms sounded, the cries of the fallen men brought Todd out of his suite to see what was going on. He reached the gateway to find Isaac examining a fallen eual, discovering its reprogramming.

"Damned Lainey," he muttered to himself.

Todd scanned the area anxiously, in a state of near-shock. "What's . . . what's going on here?"

Isaac rose, and knew the part he must play. "Something's happened to the euals. They're out of control. You need to initiate a termination procedure of them."

The sight of several dozen prisoners lying in bloody pools drew Todd's attention, and he staggered back, confused as to how so much could have gone so wrong in so short a period of time.

"Turn off the euals? Without any idea what the situation is?"

"They're _killing prisoners!"_ cried Isaac. "We _must_ shut them down."

"Why is the gate open?" wondered Todd in disbelief. "Where are the alarms? What is happening to my prison?!"

A shot rang out, and Todd fell to the floor. Isaac turned and found Darren and Ian approaching him.

"Glad you decided to come back to check on things," said Ian to Darren. He leveled his gun at Isaac. "You fuckin' betrayed us!"

"Get some sense!" bellowed Isaac. "The euals were reprogrammed, probably by Lainey."

Darren laughed. "That little piece of shit? You expect us to believe that?"

"She's smarter than she looks," said Isaac, not liking his particular view of the gun Ian was holding. "She brought you down with no problem, and—"

" _That_ was a _lucky punch_ ," spat Darren. "Kickin' someone and reprogramming a eual are two different things. How'd she get access to them? How'd she find the time to change 'em all? And most of all, how'd she even find out about our plan?!"

Something clicked in Isaac's mind. The image of her, standing in the hall, listening to him speaking with Philip, now came back to him.

"She must've—"

Another shot rang out, and Isaac fell to the ground, blood pouring from his head.

"Sooner, rather than later," said Ian, with a gleeful grin.

"Now, onto the real fun."

As the euals were locked in their stalemate, fighting near to Matthew's men, word spread of Todd's apparent death. The prisoners abandoned their fight against Matthew's men, and managed to run out the main gates and into the rec area. Matthew's group chased after them, pressing through the euals, and they became locked in a long, difficult battle.

Elaine heard all the commotion in her suite.

_How many must die today,_ she asked herself, _and how many must I kill?_ She could feel a hunger rise within her, a need for vengeance. As the prisoners fought themselves, so she fought herself, making herself stay in the suite, rather than grab a gun and whittle down their numbers. She stood before the mirror, and both images looked on one another in utter disappointment.

You damned coward. You would rather sacrifice your friends than foul your supposed moral core.

I have faith in them. They fought battles, are trained soldiers, and know what it takes to prevail. I am not some savior. I am an outsider.

She understood herself, in that moment. No matter how Oliver recognized her, no matter what identity he thought he saw, it still wasn't her true face. She was a being who existed outside of their war, outside of their prison.

So why care about them? Why not leave, and let them be?

Because that's what you would've done.

The door slid soundlessly open, and Elaine turned to find Ian standing in her doorway, with Darren hanging just outside.

"Can you come out and play?" cooed Ian, with a toothy grin. "I've waited so long for this day, sweet meat! I'm gonna enjoy breaking that superior attitude of yours, enjoy plunging myself, and my blade into you, until I rise, and you die!"

Elaine stood in the dim light of her suite, her face bathed in shadow. "You should leave, Ian."

"And where would I go? Mr. Toad is done, and his asswipe Isaac too. You did a great job turnin' the euals against us. I didn't believe it when Isaac told me. But seein' you standing here, waitin' for me, tells me you were smarter than I thought." He shrugged. "And yet, dead just the same."

He took one step in, and Elaine settled into a combat stance. Darren harrumphed, while Ian chuckled to himself. She stated plainly; "I don't want your blood on my hands."

"That's good, because I'm not the one who's gonna be bleedin'."

A shot rang out, and Darren fell to the ground. Ian whirled, and saw Tannis in the doorway.

"His blood's not gonna be on your hands," said Tannis, as another shot rang out, and Ian fell dead. "It'll be on mine."

Elaine stepped over the dead body, resisting the strong urge to spit or kick him, and came close to Tannis.

"Any progress?"

"I got to most of your group, before the riot began. I freed all the prisoners, so your people would have a fighting chance." He glanced at his watch. "It's about eight. Do you wanna try this?"

"We've got to. Kneel with me."

Oliver suddenly appeared in the doorway. "You getting' started without me, sis?"

Tannis glanced at them both in shock.

"We found out in the detox room."

Tannis shook his head in amazement. "Here I thought you two were sweet on one another."

Elaine's expression softened and she reached for Oliver's hand, squeezing it. "We love one another – just not in _that_ way. Now come on – we must focus!"

Oliver knelt with them, and together, they focused their minds on their past. In the Hub, Matthew motioned to his men to withdraw from the fight, and while Luke, John and a few others held them off, the rest knelt and focused on their pasts. All around the prison, almost a third of the population was doing the same thing.

"Focus your mind," said Elaine. "We must think on our past – every detail we can remember! Our mother, our father, going to school, our first kiss – everything!"

Oliver reached over, and held Elaine's hand tightly. Some part of her swooned with thick sentiment, remembering their childhood and all the long hours they enjoyed each other's company. His face suddenly exploded in a joyful grin. "I think . . . I think I can feel something!"

Elaine could feel it too. It was as if a veil was being withdrawn from her perceptions. Memories of the Imperium, of the long war, of the sad defeat flitted by in her mind's eye. Faces started to coalesce, along with identity.

Suddenly, an explosion was heard from within the prison bloc. The ground rumbled, bringing most of the soumans to their knees. Tannis got to his feet quickly.

"Something _more_ of your doing?" he asked.

"Possibly." A part of her wanted to stay in her mind, to understand more, but she knew time was growing short. "We need to get to the Hub! Freedom is very near . . ."

She and Oliver started off, but Elaine saw Tannis wasn't following.

"Come on, Tannis!"

"This is . . . this is your freedom, Elaine. I have no place with you and your kind."

"You have done so much for us – I will make a place for you!"

"And be branded a traitor among my own people? No, I think not. Just go, Elaine. Go and be free!"

The Hub was a cacophony of battle. Matthew's men not only fought other prisoners, but euals that had broken free of their own battle. Above the upper window of the Hub was broken, along with much of the ceiling. The hum of a heavy engine could be heard, and a black shape blotted out the moonlight.

"Look!"

Suddenly five ropes were unfurled through the hold, almost reaching the ground. Ten soldiers in black fatigues, with what Elaine recognized to be Imperium insignia on their shoulders repelled down their length, with a couple of them using a small device to scan prisoners.

Elaine yelled and waved her hands to get their attention. "Hold on! Here we come!"

A few of the prisoners fighting Matthew tried to scale the rope, only to be knocked off by the Imperium soldiers. Matthew motioned his men towards the rope, but just as they started to break free of their battle with the prisoners, a small force of euals came in to the Hub. They started to fire bolts of electric current, stunning any prisoner that was hit. Matthew pulled his men back under cover, as the team in black reached the ground.

Suddenly she saw Ronald peek his head out from around a corner near the invading force. Elaine waved him on. "Take him! He's one of us!"

Ronald waved to her, as he ran towards the Imperium soldiers. As he neared the ropes, several gunshots rang out. Elaine turned to find Todd pointing a small pistol, his left shoulder wrapped in a thick, bloody bandage. Five euals marched alongside him, each armed with heavy weaponry.

"Stop right there!" he bellowed. "Get back in your cells!"

"Never!" shouted Matthew defiantly. "We know who we are, and we will _never go back!_ "

"Then you will die."

He motioned to the euals, who opened fire on Matthew's men. Ten were killed instantly, and they scrambled backwards, overturning tables to try to escape the hail of bullets. The Imperium soldiers fired on the euals, disabling two of them, but losing five of their men in the process.

"Hurry, Ronald – climb the rope!"

"He's _not_ _leaving_!" pressed Todd, as he motioned to the euals. "Repel the invaders!"

His euals moved with remarkable speed, and engaged the Imperium soldiers directly. Ronald scurried back as they fought. Finally, a few men signaled up, and another cable came down. They went for Ronald one more time, and a blast from Todd's gun took out a segment of concrete near their heads.

"He's not leaving!"

Elaine snatched a gun from one of the fallen euals near her. It was heavy, but she managed to aim it at Todd's head. "Move away, Todd – move away!"

"Lainey," shouted Todd, over the gunfire, "I will not allow these murderers to go free! Not while I still live!"

As the euals shifted their attention to the Imperium soldiers, Matthew's men were able to come out of hiding and work to disable the euals. With their combined strength, two of the euals fell, but the remaining opened fire once again, forcing Matthew's men into an adjacent corridor.

"Get back, all of you! _Get back!_ " screamed Todd.

Elaine glanced over, and saw Ronald had been attached to one of the cables, and was being hoisted out of the prison. Todd turned, and raised his gun, but with one shot, Elaine dropped him to the ground.

"Come on Iona!" yelled one of the Imperium soldiers. "We can't maintain this position much longer."

She ran through, motioning to Matthew to bring his men in, but by that time more euals had arrived. They fired relentlessly on the Imperium soldiers, sending them back up the ropes. Heavy anti-aircraft fire could be heard from outside, and as the hovering craft pulled away, only four of the soldiers still clung to the ropes, with Ronald disappearing with them. Over the strain of the engine Elaine could hear him yell; "Thanks Lainey! Thank you!"

"Anything for you, my love!" she cried, as he rose through the roof. Nearby, Todd floundered in a pool of his own blood. Elaine stood over him, still holding the massive gun, debating whether or not to put a final bullet through his skull.

"Guess . . ," he coughed up some blood, as he tried to speak, "guess you think I had this coming."

Something within her laughed at his words, begging to be allowed to kill him. Elaine slowly moved her finger off the trigger. "Guess you did, filthy swine. I almost had some respect for you – why did you cross that line?"

He coughed again. "Maybe because I know who you really are. I lost a lot of friends in that war, to you and your kind. I _needed_ to make you pay."

Elaine fingered the trigger again, and aimed it at his skull. "Any last words?"

He smiled and laughed through the blood oozing up out of his mouth. "How long you think you've been here, Lainey? Or rather, _Iona_? Six months?" He lay back with a smile. "Try six _years_. You and I, we've been in that bed together more times than I can remember." He wheezed, and grimaced in pain. "And it was sweet every damned time."

He faded away, his head lolling to one side. Elaine screamed as loud as she could, and fired bullet after bullet into his skull, pulverizing his head, until she could fire no more.
Chapter 19

The prison was in utter chaos, but most of the inmates were caught by the euals, and pressed back into their cages, including Matthew's men. Elaine learned quickly that not only were Isaac and Todd dead, but the euals she reprogrammed also killed Blake. Colin was missing, and Philip was found cowering in some waste container. Tannis told her that a call for help had gone out, and that within one hour reinforcements should arrive. She headed back to her suite with Oliver, when something stopped her.

"What is it?" asked Oliver.

Elaine stood still, glancing at one of the doors that had a camera on top. She could see the power was down, as it hung lifeless and without the small glow of the status light. She crept closer, her eyes darting back and forth, half-expecting Blake to appear out of nowhere. Finally she stood close to the door, and ran her hands along its surface, as Oliver looked on, confused.

She muttered, "I'll never get another chance like this."

"What is it?"

"This door leads somewhere—somewhere I've never been."

Oliver understood her meaning. "Then let's go. "

They forced open the door with strong, eager hands and the butt of a gun, revealing a dank, brick-lined passageway with a few dim overhead lights guiding their way.

"We can't be careful about this," said Elaine. "We need to move as quickly as possible. Those reinforcements could be here anytime, and when full power comes up, the system will come up, and we'll be done."

"I'm with you. Let's move."

The corridor was narrow and dank, with pools of stagnant water along its length. They ran at breakneck speed, knowing they would never get another chance. Elaine felt like she needed to crouch down, even though the ceiling gave her ample room. She could feel it was leading them away from the prison in an almost straight line.

If this is behind this door, what's behind the others?

The corridor began a downward slope after they had been running for a few minutes, eventually running into stairs. They could make out a door just ahead, metal, with a sunken-in center and framed with large rivets.

"Must be a blast door," grunted Oliver. "Hope it opens—I'd hate to have come all this way for nothing."

They came to a stop in front of it. Oliver pushed it with his shoulder, and he felt it give a little.

"Gimme a hand."

They both pressed on it with all their weight, and after a few tries, it finally opened wide enough for them both to slip through. A cloud of dust rushed out, and for a moment, they both choked on it. As they went through, Elaine noticed the room they entered was older than the corridor. She could see signs of construction at the entrance.

"This place is old," said Oliver, as he managed to take a good breath. "I feel as though . . . like I remember this place."

The room was a large one, with a vaulted ceiling and thin arches rising from the floor and meeting in the center. Several consoles were arranged together as if it were a command center, with one chair set higher than the others, and a large display set in front of them all. Oliver walked along the lower consoles.

"These screens must be either voice or touch activated." He examined them closer. "Voice activated—I see the microphone."

Elaine could feel revelation was close, and shouted; "system, identify!"

"I am . . ." replied the machine, with the last words unintelligible.

"Repeat, and enhance the resolution of your voice processors."

"I am Axe-Nine," replied the machine, in a clearer, male voice.

"Are your display screens functional?" pressed Elaine.

"Checking . . . checking . . . work console three is active."

"Illuminate, and display home page."

A screen nearby came to life, with an insignia of some clawed creature bearing its teeth set on a blue-colored diamond background.

"That's . . . that's the emblem of the intelligence wing of the Imperium!" cried Oliver, as more memories flooded back.

"Do you remember any commands?"

"No," he shrugged miserably. "It's just as more is revealed so more of my mind clears."

"What is your function, Axe-9?" asked Elaine.

"I serve as database."

"And what data is within you?"

"Maps, troop disbursements, financial records, personnel files, strategy for—"

"Wait—personnel files?"

"Yes," replied Axe-9.

"Display hierarchy of the Imperium, limit to upper seventy-five members."

The screen flickered, as the command was processed.

"Select display option."

"Damn, I hate machines," said Oliver. "Slideshow – speed five seconds."

An image appeared on the screen.

"President, Mary Abraham."

Oliver took a deep breath as he remembered more of his mother. Elaine also recognized the face, but for her, it held little sentiment.

"Vice-President, Matthias Ruliche," said Axe-9, as a picture of Matthew came up.

"At least we know we're right, and not insane."

Elaine smiled slyly. " _I_ never doubted us."

"Lucas Druche, General-prime. Oliver Abraham, Senator-prime."

"Axe-9, do you have optical sensors?"

"Yes."

"Recognize my face."

A scanning laser appeared out from two corners of the room, passing over her face, and moments later, a picture of her appeared on the screen.

"Senator Iona, daughter of President Abraham, sister to Senator Oliver."

Suddenly Elaine felt something in the pit of her stomach.

"Axe-9, display top three-hundred pictures of Imperium hierarchy, thumbnail view, on one page."

Instantly they appeared. Oliver and Elaine recognized many from the prisoners they had worked with. Elaine scanned down the entire page, but didn't find what she was looking for.

"Damn!"

"What is it?" asked Oliver, suddenly worried.

"I don't see Ronald. Axe-9, do you have access to the files of the system located in the structure adjacent to this room?"

"Working . . . working . . . infiltrating system hierarchy . . . working . . ."

"Come on, come on!"

"Working . . . bridge achieved. Link stable. Access achieved."

"Access, and find the file for Ronald . . . Ronald . . . shit! I don't know his last name."

"Ronald Friedlauer," said Oliver. "I have a very good memory."

"Done."

"Is he in your database?" asked Elaine, now equal parts anxious and frightened.

"Yes."

"Show record."

Ronald's picture came up, surrounded by a red background. Elaine read some of the text beneath.

Lucius Heeld: a convicted mass-murderer before being recruited by the Imperium as a spy. Convinced by Union agents to switch sides, he served as one of the most notorious double-agents, suspected in the murders of several dozen Generals and Senators in the Imperium. One of the most intelligent and persuasive of the Union spies, he excelled at gaining confidence of his victims. He has been called 'the empathizer,' as his tactic as a murderer was to gain the trust of his victims by learning of their problems, commiserating, then killing.

Elaine stumbled back from the screen. "I let him go? I risked my life . . . for him?"

Oliver sat in a chair, unable to speak, unable to help her.

_What kind of fool am I?_ A cackling roar surfaced from the deep recesses in her mind, building from a dim noise to a deafening roar.

"No!" she screamed, " _it can't be!_ " Oliver tried to hold her, but she pushed him away, screaming and wailing. "I let him _touch_ me – I let him _sleep with me_! Who am I to have been that _stupid_?!"

She kept screaming, until Oliver knocked her unconscious, giving her temporary peace.
Chapter 20

Elaine woke in some dreamscape, lying in a warm darkness.

"How could I be responsible for so much death?" she asked herself. "I thought I had changed, thought I was able to reject what I once was."

The voice inside her screamed in her mind; _you can never reject me – I am a part of you. I am you, before you ever were!_

"No longer! You know you have longed to change – I can feel it inside you. I can feel the hatred you had of yourself –"

Shut up!

"I can feel even that you tried . . . you tried – to kill yourself!"

"No!" screamed the old Agilia, breaking down. An echo of herself appeared in front of Elaine, glowing softly, resting on her knees. Dressed in a black uniform that spoke of murder, Elaine approached cautiously.

"You did, didn't you? You tried to get yourself killed, tried to take the worst assignments you possibly could. But this power inside you, this ability to avoid danger, kept you alive, even when you wanted to die."

"Yes! Yes, it's true. My hands are so soaked with blood, they will never be clean."

"They why refuse me? Why refuse this life, where there is . . . balance, where there is some calm. Where there is even . . . hope."

"Because I've failed," said Agilia quietly. "I tried to change the world, tried to make things better, but I failed, and ended up there, as you."

"You can't change the world, make things better for others, when you can't even change yourself." Elaine reached out her hand. "Apparently I have been imprisoned for six years. Six years! Perhaps . . . perhaps you were sent, into me, to finally break me free."

"And yet I have failed. Miserably. A traitor has escaped, and we still remain in bonds."

"It is irrelevant. We, that is, I, am stronger because of you. With this union of you and I, we just might not only escape, but accomplish the task you were sent to do."

Agilia stood, and looked in her own face. "Why are you so different than me?"

"Am I really that different? Or would you have become me, if you grew up and lived in a different time, a different place." Elaine drew Agilia closer. "Come, let us become one."

"I . . . I think I'd like that."

They stepped into one another, and their bodies glowed with a terrible light. Agilia's memories fleshed out Elaine's, while Elaine's emotional health strengthened Agilia. The newly formed woman stumbled, almost fell, then with Oliver's help she steadied herself, and stood tall.

THE END

