"The Bulwark's Shadow" - A Novel in Progress via Steemit (Part I, Chapter 8)
(Screengrab from "Skyfall")
I'm posting up the chapters of this uncompleted book as I hope the Steemit community might offer up its criticism (which would force me to finish it, honestly). Started in 2008, this was my first foray into novel writing and was my undergraduate thesis required to graduate. The story is about an executioner in the not-too-distant future. Executioners are highly trained individuals with extensive educations built to help them execute their prisoners in the exact same manner that the prisoner's victims died. This is called the law of retaliation or lex talionis; you may know it better as "eye for an eye."
Because I was also getting my degree in philosophy, I wanted to explore the ethics involved. While I feel I'm a better writer now and could certainly expand most of this book, I also really enjoy criticism as I'm usually too close to the work to see what's working and what's not (though in this case, there's plenty that I feel is not working). So please...feel free to criticize the work if you'd like, but be constructive about it. Simply saying "this part isn't good" doesn't tell me much; don't hesitate to tell me why it's not good or offer up possible alternatives to make it better.
Thanks in advance!
Previous Sections/Chapters:
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter One
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Two
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Three
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Four
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Five
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Six
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Seven
Cell technology hasn’t changed much since the prisons went subterranean. Metal bars are easy to make and work just as easily as they have the past several decades, but we use bulletproof, triple-reinforced hard plastic for the Violents. Bars can sometimes block the view of the guard at the worst time, thus, the safety factor rises when there are no surprises and they’re able to see what the inmate is doing around the clock. There is a two way speaker in the front of the cell controlled by the guard immediately outside, but they’re rarely used.
The temperature within the cells is maintained at a slightly lower temperature. This was thought to improve their behavior when they do get to leave their cells. For the most part, the idea has worked, but it’s obvious to us that it just pisses most of them off more than anything. Take a swing at me in a seventy-three degree hallway, see what happens. I’ll throw you right back in the cell and let you rot in a sixty-seven degree room you can’t leave for another month. What do I care? You’re the one the guards are watching shit, piss, jerk off, and sleep. I’m just doing my job.
We keep the hallways dark and the cells well lit in this part of the prison. It’s been said that this gives the prisoner a sense of physical solitude in their cell. Almost like a social deprivation tank to the nth degree. They feel like their cell is the only one around for miles because they never see or hear anyone else. Not even the other guards. Just another asshole in a well lit room surrounded by an ocean of black and a matching hard plastic cot.
This part of the prison we call the Catacombs, and is less boxy and more circular, spider-webbing out into about a hundred concentric circles with wider hallways. The guard stations are round rooms that have a 360 degree view of about 28 cells at any given time and four hallways cleave the cells into sections that lead off towards other Violent units and all of them feed off into a main hallway that leads to the rest of the prison. There is an override mechanism in each guard unit in case of a breakout, which is practically impossible. As a backup, the entire area shuts down the main hallway if one of those mechanisms gets turned on, providing a dual level of defense for the rest of the prison to organize and prepare on the very off chance that some Violent escapes.
The guard units themselves go into lockdown as well, preventing the Violents from entering into the viewing station. The guards stay safe while the Violents run around the concentric circles like lab rats on acid trying to find a way out. When the main hallway goes into lockdown, it looks just like any other part of the wall. Couple that with the already dark hallways and the ability of the guards to watch the entire episode unfold and you’ve got a small margin of error for letting guards and executioners from the outside in through the main hallway. Once inside, they electraprod the Violents into submission and ultimately back into their cells with more bruises and broken bones than they had planned. This is the idea anyway.
I walked through the main hallway and into the catacombs. Some of the other guys get freaked out by the initial darkness for the first fifty feet or so, but then they see how the cells keep the place well lit and they stop worrying. It takes the new guys a few visits to really get comfortable with the idea. I swiped my keycard at the entrance of the main hub and walked in, greeting the other guys with a wave.
The entire main hub is adorned with several large video screens positioned just above the top of the windows so they don’t block the view of the cells. Each cell has its own screen and four others continually flash to different parts of the other hubs in 3 second intervals. If a problem occurs with any one of the videos, the main hub goes into immediate lockdown until repairs can be made. Thankfully they don’t happen for long or even often, but the boys were locked in one time for two days straight. They came out a little disgruntled and smelling pretty horrible. No shower to speak of, but at least they had a toilet to use. After that, the prison commissioned some new repairs to the room which included more digging beneath the hub and a larger room with bunks and showers just in case it happened again. The spiral staircase in the middle of the room still looks out of place, but it’s functional.
Simon was one of the oldest guards in the prison. Older than the warden himself, even. He had made the transition from Warden of his own topside prison to Head of Violent Security down here. An old-schooler with a lot of stories from “way back when,” Simon understood why the guards now were so lax most days. Security and technology had made things easier. The government had also helped give us a little more leniency with prisoner treatment when they got out of line, but Simon didn’t hesitate to kick a guard’s ass if he acted out of line.
“They’re serving their time, which means you don’t get to beat up on them indiscriminately,” he told one guard after he’d beaten an NV into a bloody, apologizing mess. The NV had been mopping, minding his own business and accidentally got some dirty water on the guard’s shoe. “Down here, there’s a fine line between savagery and justice. Best not to cross it while I’m in charge,” he said quietly as he took away the guard’s key card and electraprod. Two other guards had escorted him out of the prison while Simon himself escorted the broken NV to the infirmary. Incidents like that were virtually nil while Simon was on watch. He wouldn’t put up with it.
He was at the big desk in the middle of the room and stood when he saw me come in. “You’re not takin’ one of my guys today are ya, Brein?”
“No, no. Janus just finished up this week’s body. I’m just here on a kind of personal issue. I’ve got the Towalski file and he’s not due for several weeks yet. Just came by to give him a once-over. Where’s his cell, by chance?”
Simon sat back down at his desk and scrolled through the large computer screens. “Looks like he’s in Hub 4, Cell 16,” he said, looking more intently at the screen. “Damn,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Guy’s been in there a long time.”
“Yeah, he used all four of his appeals, so I’m sure that helped a little bit,” I replied, trying to be blasé about the fact.
“All four, really? Wow. He must’ve heard some stories about us before he got here,” Simon said, laughing. Some of the other guards heard the quip and laughed silently as well.
“Guess so. Thanks, Simon,” I said as I walked out of the main hub and headed over to number 4.
It’s a five minute walk from the main hub to any one of the four adjoining hubs. If one were to look at the Violent holding area from the top, it would look like a big “X” with a large circle in the middle and smaller circles on each of the ends with one extra long hallway (the main) leading from the center of the “X” back to the rest of the prison. The long hallways were another escape precaution, assuming an escapee would get tired before reaching the main hub, so by the time I got to Hub 4, I had essentially walked the entire length of the prison. I may not be working hard today, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t getting some much needed exercise.
I swiped my keycard at the entrance of the hub and saw two guards from the station giving me friendly waves as I stepped through the glass doors. I waved back as I walked along the doorway and headed to Cell 16, still unsure as to what I had planned or what to expect.
He sat in the lotus position on his bed, staring at the opposite wall. His eyelids fluttered as he realized someone was outside of his cell, but they never moved to register me in full. His beard and mop of a hairdo had both gone gray and shaggy over the years and you could see the beginnings of liver spots along his forearms which faced the sky in a kind of weird Zen worship. The bare cell held little more than a thick book and a roll of toilet paper as I watched him through the plastic walls. His bed was perfectly made; the sheets were military tight along the corners and folded over ever so perfectly near the pillow. At first glance, you would think he was at a Buddhist resort.
I folded my arms and leaned back against the wall, debating on what to say or whether I should try to say anything at all. This guy had been in here almost since its inception nearly two decades ago and for some reason I found it hard to fathom. Maybe because I did actually have my doubts about his innocence. It was hard to say. He shut his eyes and stood up in the middle of my ruminations, stepping to the glass near the speaker. Eyes still shut, he cocked his head to the side and tapped at the glass as if I were a curious captive reptile. I decided to step forward and pressed the speaker button. “Towalski?” I asked in the strongest voice I could.
His eyes popped open and he looked me dead on with his slate-gray eyes. “You’re looking at me like you want attention,” he replied in a cold, unwavering voice. “You’re not my dog and I’m not your owner, so what do you want?”
His prison jumper gleamed a pure white in stark contrast to his hair and beard, which were thick matted and unkept. A shower would do him some good. At first glance, one would think the outfit an oversized infant’s outfit, but the top of the white orthopedic shoes were hidden by the overlong pants. He had shrunk in his later years and never resized for pants apparently.
He kept his head cocked to the side and tapped on the glass again, mouthing the word “hey,” keeping the neutral expression of pure apathy on his face. I pressed the button again. “I asked you what you wanted.”
My breath caught and I found myself unsure of what I wanted from him. I hadn’t thought it through this far. “Not sure yet,” I muttered, letting my finger slip off the button, cutting off the speaker again. He rocked his head to the other side like a dog hearing high pitches. It was all I could do to not break eye contact. After several long moments of unblinking silence, he shut his eyes, turned around and went back to his bed in slow measured steps. He sat down and put himself back into the lotus position when I realized I did have something to ask him. I pressed the button again.
“Towalski. Did you testify at your trial?” No response. I kept my finger pressed to the button hoping for an answer, but he sat there in a blissed out state of forced deafness. He seemed to blend into the white sheets of the bed as I stared at him waiting for an answer. One of those funny tricks the brain plays when the eyes relax to a certain degree. When I realized he wasn’t going to answer me, I stepped back into the shadows and walked away more confused than before.
More Chapters:
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Nine
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Ten
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Eleven
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Twelve
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Thirteen
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Fourteen
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Fifteen
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Sixteen