Incarceration

Chapter Two

The cool metal cuts into my flesh, unpleasantly digging into my skin and coming to rest on the bone. As the blindfold wraps around my eyes, I remain silent, unpleasantly conscious of the surprised, judgmental, and angry eyes surrounding me. My cuffed arms are suddenly shoved upward with enough force to dislocate my shoulders and I forcibly double over into the submissive prisoner position, giving the guard complete control. I'm forced forward through the crowd of my peers—their whispers following me out of the room and echoing in my ears.

The guards jolt me to the left, right, then left again, and it doesn't take long before I lose all sense of direction. But I don't need my eyes to know where we're going.

An alarm sounds and I can hear the large latch being lifted, allowing for the heavy metal doors to swing open. The fresh air, damp from the recent rain, rushes over my face, leaving a nice cooling sensation as the sweat clinging to my skin begins to harden and chip away. I breathe in. The cool air fills my lungs and calms my racing nerves.

A harsh hand shoves me upward into what I can only imagine is a Prisoner Transport Vehicle. It leads me to a bench and as I sit down, two thick buckles are strapped across my chest and tightened to the point of suffocation. I sway awkwardly and blindly as the PTV makes its way to the courthouse.

The harsh words, muttered under the breath of the driver, float along the air and resonate in my ears.

"Esma?" my voice cuts through the air and I am surprised but proud to hear that it remains strong and steady. The murmurs stop and we continue for a few minutes in silence. Then I feel myself lurch forward as the PTV comes to a sudden halt. There's a rustle of movement and then a sharp pain across my face. The blindfold is ripped away. I blink violently, cheek stinging, to find myself staring into hateful dark eyes outlined by a ring of black.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, traitor!" Esma hisses at me. The words pour out of her, coming impulsively and passionately. "The prison gave you so much—a life, a family, a place to live. And you throw it away! For what? That scum? I know you're young, but I would think that by twenty you'd have some sense. You ungrateful," she pauses, apparently at a loss for something vile enough to call me. Instead she decides to punch me again, this time in the nose. I feel myself grunt and double forward as the cool rush of blood runs down from my nostril and piles into the creases of my lips. She ties the blindfold over my eyes once more and climbs back into the driver's seat. The PTV starts again. I bite my lip to keep silent.

The next time we stop, the door to the van slides open and I am once more forced out into the air. Somehow it doesn't seem as sweet.

I'm dragged up a flight of stairs, tripping over my feet, and back into a building, the door swinging loudly shut behind me. I'm forced into a chair as my ankles and wrists are buckled tightly to the wood. The blindfold is untied, gently this time, and I find myself before a large judge podium that towers several feet above my head.

The man on the podium stares down at me, his dark skin covered by a silk black robe. I look around and spot Esma standing in the corner of the otherwise empty room.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Calling the case of the People of Madina City versus Harriet T. Maxwell. Are both sides ready?"

I look around the empty room. Esma is leaning hatefully and silently against a wall, staring down at me. I look away, then back to the man in black who continues without an answer. His body twitches in and out of focus momentarily and then disappears to be replaced with a breathtaking, bird's-eye view of the city suspended in midair. The hologram continues to move, the lights dim, and suddenly music bursts through surround-sound speakers.
"This is our beloved city. . To keep our beloved citizens safe, city manager and renowned engineer Mr. Barnaby Hendrix invented The Hendrix Simulator . By creating simulations that emulate real feelings and situations, The Hendrix Simulator is an intelligent, humane way of teaching prisoners morality and humility, while allowing victims to seek closure from their traumatic experiences by acting as Master Game Players.

"The city is now crime-free and relies on us to keep them safe from the torment, danger, and crime that you have demonstrated today. After this video, your trial will commence and you will be assigned a game based on the severity of your crime. The Hendrix Simulation will teach you to withhold your barbaric behaviors and become a functioning member of society once more. Good luck on your journey back to humanity." The holograph disappears and the man in black appears on his podium again. The lights come up. My hair stands on end.

"After a detailed review of your actions, we have decided to assign you to Cursus. This game will suit you well. We hope to see you back in the city soon."