Authors: Luca Rossi
The smile on Narios' face disappears.
“Yes, yes,” I babble. “I want to appeal.”
The robot silently moves away from the cell.
I stretch out on the cot. I thought I'd feel bad, but I actually don't feel anything.
Narios leaves me alone.
I'm calm. I'm not overcome by sorrow.
Seven years and two months
. I don't feel rage or discomfort. Now I know what I'm in for. I feel like a soldier who, when wounded in battle, doesn't feel real pain until he's sure that he's safe in the trench.
I lie on the cot for hours. Irrelevant, tiny, scattered thoughts cross my mind. I force myself to not think about my family.
6
New day, same routine. I thought that I would be overcome by pain, but still nothing. It's as if I was anesthetized. Actually I don't know what I feel.
Two robots stop in front of the bars. I go out as I am. This time, unshaven and with messy hair.
What do they want from me?
We fly up and pass the opening that leads to the hearing room. We go up further.
How high is this place?
The walls are now smooth, we've left the lower cells. There are fewer robots up here. I see above me the large cupola that separates the chasm of the prison from the planet's toxic atmosphere. Just twenty yards below the top, we go through an opening, similar to the first one. Even the corridor we walk down is identical to the one that led to the courtroom. The robots stop in front of a door. I understand that I need to go forward and enter a rectangular space, with metallic walls and white furniture, ceiling and floor. The design is sparse and minimalistic.
On the left, two armchairs and a little sofa form a sitting room. At the back of the room there's a desk with a pair of two office chairs in front of it. I see a woman with long, smooth, dark hair down to her shoulders absorbed in reading. She's dressed in a slightly dated grey, simple suit with a white shirt and black low-heeled shoes. Her face is slightly rotund, and she's not wearing much makeup, if any at all. She's pretty.
“Germil Isiek, I presume.”
I observe her silently.
“Please, have a seat.”
I sit down.
“Among thousands of prisoners, we don't have many engineers at your level. As a matter of fact, I think you're the only one.” A smile slips across her face.
Who is this woman? And why is she smiling at me like that? She seems like the kind of woman who has a lot to hide.
“You're in luck,” I respond. “Now if you have a problem with your solar panels, there's someone here who can take a look at it.”
I don't laugh at my joke, because it wasn't funny. She, however, lets out a shrill peal.
“I think the robots take care of the maintenance around here, actually, I've never worried about it.”
I start to really feel irritated and fear that my eyes betray my disgust.
“I'm the Director of Varcoria, Ally Bristis,” she says. She noticed my glaring expression and wants to make our respective positions clear, but immediately resumes her little smile.
In return, I pretend that this is a normal conversation.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bristis.” I respond, in a formal tone of voice.
“Six years and two months,” she says, thoughtfully. “Your appeal should come through in eight weeks.”
“Well, in the end, it's not too bad around here,” I say, ironically.
Is she really a fool or is she only pretending to be one? Maybe it's just prison policy to torture each detainee with her stupidity.
“Alright, we'll have an opportunity to talk more later, but now I have a few things to take care of. Have a nice day.”
Now she's really being a jerk. Does she realize that I have to go back to a cell?
As we go back down, I wonder if it's worse to spend part of my life in a cell, or an entire life as stupid as Ally Bristis. After all, one day I'll get out of here. She'll probably work in this prison all her life.
7
I tell Narios about the surreal encounter. He remains silent, like he does every time he can't figure something out. From his expression, I understand that meeting with the Director is a rather unusual thing for a detainee to do.
“Well, maybe it's a good sign, bro.”
He always tries to emphasize the positive aspect of every situation. I feel very selfish: even if he constantly strives to make me feel better, I really don't think much of him. But I'm beginning to like him a little.
A deadly boredom assails me. The routine completely floors me. Narios tries to keep my morale up any way he can. All I want to do is read. The holobooks are the only thing that capture my interest and help me escape from all of this. Narios, however, interrupts me constantly. I almost feel guilty for how irritable I am with him. I know that he does it because he wants to be close to me, but I really need to throw myself into reading in order to forget about everything.
I hear the bars open, I turn around and see two robots, immobile. Trying to contain the feeling that some bad news is on its way, I go towards them and step out onto the platform. We start rising upwards.
Let's hope I don't come back from this!
Instead, they take me right to the Director.
She's busy doing something at the desk. Then she looks at me and, with her big fake smile, encourages me to loathe her even more.
“Hi, Germil. Please, have a seat on the couch. I can call you Germil, right?”
No, actually!
I think. We're not friends and I doubt we ever will be, but for now I abstain from telling her so.
“Hi, Ally.”
“Can I offer you something to drink? Actually we don't have a whole lot here. Wait, I'll order something.”
She comes and sits down on the sofa, next to me. Her steps are calm but a little too controlled.
“I saw the deposition you made at the hearing. You don't know how sorry I am that you ended up here.”
I don't comment. I think my silence is starting to embarrass her.
A robot brings us two tall, narrow glasses. Her glass is full of a shiny green drink, and mine is a bright blue. I've never seen any beverages like these before.
“I imagine this would be a pleasant change of pace compared to the food pills and water from the sink.”
Well, you're the Director, if you want to serve me a nice plate of pasta with a good bottle of wine, go right ahead.
She lifts her glass towards me. “Cheers!” She gives me a foolish smile.
“Cheers,” I respond.
I take a sip and immediately feel looser, at peace, calm, a pleasant sensation. The room is warm and welcoming. I wonder if the beverage is some kind of drug, but I've never tried any and wouldn't know how to guess. I feel really good.
“That's just what you needed, right?” she asks me.
“Not bad, Ally. Not bad at all.”
She smiles.
What the hell am I doing?
asks a little voice from somewhere inside of me.
“Let's talk a little bit about you,” she says.
The voice inside of me doesn't want to say anything, but I reel on for several minutes about everything that comes to mind about my life. The words seem to come out on their own. She wants to know about my wife Sofia, and I tell her how we met, the engagement, our marriage, the kids. Ally looks at me, interested. Talking about my family now isn't painful. I feel like I'm at dinner with friends.
Ally's legs are crossed. Her foot bounces up and down.
Are those the same black shoes she wore the last time?
I wonder. When I lift my eyes again, I realize she noticed what I was gazing at.
“Have a seat on the floor, you'll be more comfortable.” She smiles.
On the floor? I don't usually sit on the ground.
I get up from the sofa and start to bend my legs.
I don't want to do this, why am I doing this?
I think as I get down on the ground, my head near her shoe.
I look around, searching for something to help me understand.
The drink!
I look at the glass that contained the blue beverage. Then I turn towards the Director. She says: “Nothing wrong with a little fun, right?”
I'm not having fun, but the sensations in my body are pleasant.
“If you like my shoe, do whatever you want with it.”
I don't want to do anything with it. The tip of her shoe comes towards my lips.
“You want to kiss it, don't you?”
Yes, I mean, no!
I have no idea what I want to do.
The effects of the drink seem to intensify in my body. I put my lips on her shoe. I kiss it in several places. I rise towards her calf. I stop.
Maybe I should lick it?
I stick out my tongue and start to run it down the leather of her shoe. I look up at her, she's nodding. I set myself to the task at hand. She points her toe upwards. I look at her, surprised. She nods, indicating I should go on. Her approval makes me more enthusiastic. I pass my tongue vigorously along the sole of her shoe. It's like I'm trying to clean it. “Take it off...”
Her bare foot seems like a conquest to me. There are no more contradictory little voices inside of me. With my lips and tongue, I go up her calf, reach her knee and linger along the inside of her thighs. I don't dare go further. She raises her skirt a little with her hands and then places a palm on my head. I let her push me. With her other hand, she pulls her panties aside a little. I start to really get into it. She lets out soft, throaty cries. Then she places a foot on my forehead and pushes me away. With one finger, she opens the buttons of my uniform, from the neck down to the waist. I don't understand. I go back to my first position. She puts her right foot behind my neck and again pulls me between her thighs. I see her place one hand behind the arm of the sofa. I realize that she's holding a whip in her hand.
My tongue and my lips go back to pleasuring her.
The first lash arrives unexpectedly, strong and extremely painful. She screams, apparently out of her mind with pleasure. I stop because of the pain.
“Don't you dare stop. Continue!”
Her imperious tone forces me back to work without a second thought.
The other lashes arrive in a violent, steadily increasing rhythm. The pain almost makes me faint. My back seems to collapse. I feel the blood trickle down my skin. But I don't stop doing what I'm doing and she, with every lash, seems full of a savage joy. The rhythm of her hand increasingly intensifies, just like her pleasure. She explodes in an intense orgasm and shakes with violent tremors.
I stop. Her screams of pleasure seem further and further away. The image of her skin covered with pleasure and sweat starts to grow fuzzy. The pain in my back disappears. I feel my forehead hit the floor when my body collapses, senseless.
8
I feel the shape of a pillow under my right cheek. The pain is atrocious in my back, it seems like I'm in a haze. I try to figure out where I am. I open my eyes: I see the cot and part of the greyish, dirty wall.
I'm still in this filthy cell
. I turn my face. The movement stimulates the muscles of my back, which scream out in pain. Narios notices this. He turns and smiles at me. He grabs the stool and sits down next to me.
“Hey, bro, what did they do to you? Two robots carried you into the cell, you were unconscious and stayed that way for two days. The wounds are a little better now. I tried to do what I could, but we only have rags and water here.”
“Narios...”
It hurts even to speak.
“That bitch.”
My voice is barely above a whisper.
“The Director? Her again? What happened?”
“She made me drink something blue...I don't know what it was...but afterwards it felt like I was...a robot...under her command.”
He looks at me, perplexed. I tell him what happened. He listens without interrupting, his face darkens.
“No, bro, shit, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Why did she pick you? We're all monsters here, human wrecks, criminals, racketeers, dealers, murderers, junkies, thieves! Why you? I don't know what to say, bro. Come here!”
I look at him, terrorized. He understands that maybe this isn't the time for a fraternal hug.
Over the next few days, Narios tends to my wounds, soothes them and keeps them clean, helps me with everything. I stay lying down, but every once in a while I pull myself up to a sitting position.
After two more weeks I feel like I'm almost normal. I start to do push-ups, sit-ups and other exercises to stay in shape. In the mirror, I can see there are still a few scars.
If I could only get my hands on that subspecies of a bitch!
Two silent robots stop in front of the bars of my cell.
Her again, I know it is!
She waits for me, standing a few feet away from the door, with an apprehensive look on her face.
“How are you?” she asks, in no uncertain terms.
“Well...”
“I monitored how you were doing from the video surveillance of your cell. I'm
so
sorry about your wounds. Good thing Narios was there to take care of you. He didn't take his eyes off of you from the moment they brought you back to the cell!”
“I don't think he had anything else to do.”
“Come on, you understand what I mean!” she says in a friendly tone, patting my arm.
Is she insane? Isn't she the one who whipped me until I almost dropped dead?
“Maybe it was worth it, though, right?” she asks me, tenderly taking my hand and bringing me to the sofa.
“For what?”
She acts embarrassed. “You were good, really good. And your Director really likes you. So we had to wait a little longer so you could get better.” The seductive tone again.
I don't understand if I'm dealing with some sort of evil genius, a schizophrenic criminal or a complete imbecile.
“And,” she continues, “I think that you really liked it too, right, Germil?”
“We need to get things straight, dear Ally.” I emphasize her name. “I have a wife, two children and a nice life. All of a sudden you locked me up in this hell as punishment for I have no idea what. One fine day the director,
you,
decided to whip me unconscious, leaving me incapable of movement for days with a back that looks like a battlefield. What part of this do you think I find pleasant?”