Henry Gant, Man About Town. This Episode: Twenty four hour short story writing contest. "The Prisoner of Nomti."

The Prisoner of Nomti

“Who were my worst prisoners? That’s easy, it really boils down to one. He represents all of his kind in this prison.”

Warden, Jerry R. Muad'Dib, sat back in his oversized leather chair, making his already small stature seem preposterously tiny. He shot a glance left, and then right, “I know that’s a racist statement . . . or rather species-specific; but, it’s true. It also explains how he was able to escape, and how we were able to recapture him, and eventually how we put an end to all the escapes.”

" In this politically correct galaxy of ours, I shouldn’t say anything; but, I’m retiring, and I will be returning to my home planet soon. Let’s face it . . . certain traits of beings from other solar systems define who they are; and, to a great extent . . . “what’’ they are”.

Janet Sapiens-Savant sat across the desk with her notepad. She was interviewing the prison warden from the planet, Nomti. Janet was human. Humans had become the builders of the Galaxy owing to their specialized abilities, large brains, forethought, but most importantly, opposable thumbs. Janet was interviewing Jerry Muabi’Bid to gain some insight into making other prisons as inescapable as this one had become. Something had changed at Nomti Prison - once the worst in the galaxy- and it is because of the legendary, Jerry R. Muad'Dib.

“Please continue, I’ll be discreet with my writing." Said, Janet.

Muad'Dib continued, “I like to walk the halls at night in the darkness, and I could hear him literally hiss and say the vilest things to me as I passed his cell. In fact, they are all like that, if they could get their claws on me they would tear me apart. I'm quite certain they would just eat me on the spot." Muabi’Bid visibly twitched at the thought.
"I never got close to them, the entire time I have been here has been more than frightening."
Muabi’Bid leaned forward as if to reveal a secret, “His name is Tommot. You will notice that his name is a palindrome . . . it is spelled the same coming as it is going, so to speak.”

Janet smiled pleasantly.
“I’ll see if I can work that into the story”, she said, politely.

Muad'Dib smiled brightly, showing his large front teeth, “Oh, don’t worry it works its way into the story nicely.”

He went on. “We in the prison industry have nick-named this rat-hole planet, the Ball of String; because, nobody except their kind would want it. I’m sure that you have noticed that it is filthy . . . overturned garbage pales everywhere. I honestly think that the inside of my prison is the cleanest place on the planet.

Muad'Dib adjusted himself to look out of the window. “You see . . . the inhabitants of this planet have tried to change their old ways, they want to grow and become a more civilized culture. So they have done their best to instill the idea of beauty into this entire population".
"That’s why this prison was built, for those who violate the Higher Thought."

"In a few words, how would you describe, Higher Thought?" asked, Janet.

Muad'Dib answered without hesitation, "Well, I think it should be along the lines of resisting the urge to disembowel and eat your neighbor."
He pointed out the window, “Those statues . . . The Founders of Higher Thought . . . they show of these creatures' true elegance. And even I have to admit that they do possess a grace and dignity unmatched in all the galaxy . . . if you can get past the evil intent in their eyes.”

Muad'Dib turned his attention back to Janet. “Not every creature here has been able to attain Higher Thought.”

“Tommot?” asked, Janet.

“Tommot," answered, Muad'Dib.

Many of our inmates seem to have reverted to their base nature. We try to rehabilitate them . . . keeping the prison clean, warm, and if we can get them to stop knocking over trash cans; then, we have achieved something. Our trash cans are anchored into concrete and the lids are welded shut.”

Janet noticed that Muad'Dib had a nervous continence, with his voice occasionally breaking higher. She wrote it on her notepad.

“Tommot would literally go on a rampage trying to overturn the garbage pails. You could see that the frustration turned him more animal than a being of the Higher Thought. "

“Maybe that’s why he kept escaping.” Muad'Dib mused.

The newswoman leaned in . . . genuinely interested now, she asked, “Tell me about the escapes.”

Muad'Dib answered, “He escaped twice the first week I was here. He was unstoppable. In all, he escaped 25 times my first year.”
“I thought I was going to lose my job.”

“How did he keep on escaping?” asked Janet, puzzled.

Well, to start with Tommot isn’t very big. He is extremely agile and intelligent. His senses are super heightened: Hearing, smell, taste, he can literally see in the dark; and, of course, this prison was built by the Monkey People . . . Oh, I’m so sorry . . . I mean, Humans.”

“That’s alright said Janet, “I understand.”

“Well,” he went on, “it’s not built for the type of beings that inhabit this place.”

Muad'Dib continued, “During the day, Tommot would be walking slowly through the prisoners’ yard and the next moment he was jumping up a wall and running along the ridge of a building and then leap to the ground . . . disappearing into the woods.”

Janet sat back giving some thought to what Muad'Dib had said.
“He sounds like he is descended from cats,” she uttered over her notepad.

Instantly, Muad'Dib exclaimed, “You said it . . . I didn’t!”
“On this planet, you can’t just go around saying that they evolved from a common cat ancestor.”
"You cant even mention Evolution in public."
"The inhabitants of Nomti are said to have always been the image of the Founders of Higher Thought . . . . End of story."

Muad'Dib shook his head back and forth and Janet took notice that his ears continued to sway a moment after his head came to rest.

“Just like on earth, where you are met with fierce opposition for saying that you humans are descended of a common ape-like hominid . . . well, you know what I mean.”

“I understand,” she said.

“But, that’s how we got him.” Muad'Dib's nose twitched. “Don’t write this down, it would outrage the citizens of this Ball of String to learn that I used their base nature against one of their kind”.

Janet sat back and said, “I’ll just write that you used dogs with baseball bats to hunt him down.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Said, Muad'Dib, literally squeaking with delight. "Dogs . . . they never change."

Then, he went on with his story, “We put all the other prisoners in their cages . . . we simply left the front gates of the prison open; and then, at dinner time he came back to his cell.”
Muad'Dib added, "After about a year of this, I was fed up. One night I marched down to cell and looked into those vertical pupils, and asked him point blank . . . "So what's it going to be . . . do you want In or Out?! I need to know right now!!"

Silence.
Not a creature was stirring, not even Muad'Dib.

Janet broke the stillness. “He escaped twenty-five times . . . how did you finally put an end to it?”

Jerry Muad'Dib’s head darted to the left, and then to the right, his large ears waivered. His nose twitched again, he smiled his big two-front-teeth-smile as he brought his hands up to his chin, thumbs and forefingers lightly touching."
Then, he said in his high pitched squeaky voice, “I used his inner nature against him . . . now, we leave a large cardboard box in his cell.”

“Tom hasn’t tried to escape since.”

Janet sat back and then wrote the title of her article on her notepad.
She said, "Thank you so much . . . I have my story. I'm calling it. . . . The Adventures of Tom and Jerry."

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This is my entry for the "Twenty Four Hour Short Story" writing contest.
The point of which is to create a story from a prompt in the space of a day.
You can find the post here:
https://steemit.com/twentyfourhourshortstory/@mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-24-hour-short-story-contest-march-27-topic-10-the-warden-from-the-most-difficult-prison-in-the-galaxy

I hope you enjoyed it.

H. G.