2020-03-12 - spike - Trapped again Part seven

Author: spike
Title: Trapped again. Part seven.
Date: 12 March 2020

“Vegan food? That was vegan?” He placed the last of the trays in the food station and sighed with contentment.

“Cell, thank you. And pass that thanks on to the prison cook. That was delicious. I wasn’t expecting that from vegan food.”

“Gratitude accepted and thanks forwarded.”

He drained his hot chocolate, placed that in too and the food station slid closed with an hiss and click.

“Cell, menu. I might as well familiarise myself with everything.”

He went through every option. In Entertainment, there was a huge selection, but much of it required payment in credits. The public domain section however, everything was free. He made a mental note to check that out. The music section? Apart from classical, nothing was familiar. None of the styles. What in gods name was Frambo? Blip? Speedbang?

He chuckled. “I’m not even sure I want to find out.”

Food, he’d seen, communications too, so he moved straight on to self-improvement.

“Might as well see what courses they do run.” He shrugged. “See if I can come out of this with something useful.”

That opened into the three categories described in the induction, science, humanities and art. He didn’t really find anything in the science one appealing, which surprised him. In the humanities… He again shook his head. History? Even geography here would be meaningless elsewhere… But art… Well, he was a master craftsman… He looked more closely at that list.

“Cell, can you describe a self-improvement course in more detail if asked?”

“Affirmative.”

“What does dramatic arts entail? Is it acting?”

“Negative. It is the study of and appreciation for the art of performance. How the plays are constructed and interpreted. No acting lessons are included.”

“Not interested in that one then…”

He continued, but, as he’d thought, none of the practical skills such as woodwork, painting or drawing were available… There was a technical drawing course making use of the computer but… No… Besides, almost every course was flagged as full.

“Open the music category.”

A long list of instruments appeared in various grades, from absolute beginner to advanced.

He looked down the list, but most were full… Then his eyes settled on flute – grade one.

“Cell, flute grade one. Is grade one advanced or beginner?”

“Flute grade one is an introduction to the instrument. The course includes how to read a musical score, how to handle the instrument and how to play the notes, culminating in a performance of five simple tunes. Completion of this course will result in automatic enrolment to the flute grade two course.”

“So, if I sign up for the course, I’ve got no choice but to complete every grade?”

“Affirmative.”

“And there’s no way to back out of a course once signed up?”

“Negative.”

“How many places need to be filled before the course commences?”

“One.”

“How long is each lesson?”

“Request denied.”

“Why?”

“Requests concerning time are not permitted.”

“Damn, of course. Sorry I asked.”

“Apology accepted.”

He took a deep breath. “Might as well bite the bullet. Even if I do hate it, I might get good enough to start to like it. Cell, sign me up for flute grade one.”

“Report immediately after your post-workout shower to corridor A, room nine.”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved to the final menu item. Environment contained two options, temperature, which he lowered ten degrees, and lighting which offered intensity and chrominance. He left that untouched and returned to the entertainment menu and the public domain archive.

“Cell, search and select every book on the craft of woodworking, carpentry, wood carving or joinery. Exclude fiction where a character just happens to work with wood.”

A list scrolled up. And scrolled… And scrolled some more. There were hundreds.

“Cell, can you tag an item in this list, add it to a favourites list or place them in a named folder for later perusal?”

“Affirmative.”

He nodded and opened the first book.
* * *
He’d got a few chapters in when the light turned orange. At the same time, the screen blanked.

“Position in book saved. File closed. Prisoner 50095223. Drink the preparation.”

Eric looked at the table. He’d been so engrossed in the book he hadn’t noticed it, but the food station had spat something out again. A small plastic cup containing a clear liquid.

“Yes, sir.” He drank it and placed the cup back in the station. It tasted minty.

“Prisoner 50095223. Remove your tunic but keep it with you. Lie on the bed and await further instructions.”

He pulled off his tunic and went to the bed. “Yes, sir. Why did the lights turn orange?”

“Pre-sleep routine.”

“And what did I just drink?” He lay down and stared at the ceiling.

“Request denied. You will be instructed when the effect takes hold.”

“Denied?”

“Files indicate you have now been here long enough to know that everything you are ordered to do is mandatory. You have questioned the reasoning behind many orders. You will not ask again. No more explanations will be given. You will just obey. Further questions will result in severe punishment.”

“So, I was given a grace period?”

“Yes. All prisoners are given a period after first activation to accustom themselves to the routine. Yours has just expired.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Gratitude accepted.”

It wasn’t long before he realised what the preparation was for. He felt a stirring downstairs which quickly became an erection that caused his trousers to tent.

“Sensors indicate engorgement is at maximum. Bring yourself to climax, but do not ejaculate until ordered. When you do, capture the result in your tunic. Do not allow any to spill onto the bed. Begin.”

“You want me” he bit his tongue. “Yes, sir! But I don’t know how. When it comes, it comes. I can’t control it!”

“Request for further instruction accepted. Begin.”

He gripped himself and before he even pumped once, a buzzer sounded.

“Release your grip. Stroke, gently.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sensation he’d normally experienced as one violent outburst increased slowly. Incredibly slowly, but at the same time, the pleasure that went with it…

He increased the speed of his stroking and there was another buzz. “Slow down.”

Over the next he-didn’t-even-care-how-long-anymore, he received further instructions. When he felt like he was on the verge, the instruction was “Eemove your hand.” which resulted in the sensation retreating. The instruction to continue, a few more to slow down, two more to stop… He felt like it lasted for hours.

“You have ten seconds to ejaculate.”

He was near the edge as it was and it only took a few more strokes to fall off the precipice. He gathered his tunic and just before he came, he placed it around himself and exploded with a roar.

He stopped stroking and collapsed onto the bed.

“Continue until instructed to stop.”

“What? I… Yes, sir!”

He had no choice, but the sensation was still powerful in his groin, a few more strokes, and he came again, to a far lesser extent. There was no instruction to halt his activity so he continued. Five more mini-orgasms later, each one smaller than the last, the computer finally issued the command to halt.

“Discard the tunic, strip, urinate and enter the cubicle.”

He did as he was told, of course. He staggered around the cell, more exhausted than he’d felt in years, but how did… He shrugged. It was right. He didn’t know if it was a result of the concoction or the activity that followed but he definitely needed to pee.

“Cell, thank you. Oh my god, thank you. That was the most amazing experience in my life. I never realised I’d been doing it wrong all this time.”

“Gratitude accepted. Privilege protection reinstated.”

“You what?”

“Repeated genuine expressions of gratitude indicate you have accepted your place. Your third lock to protect privileges has been reinstated as a reward.”

“Oh god, that’s a relief. Thank you, sir.”

“Gratitude accepted. Further instruction will not be given after each first new instance. You will be expected to follow the routine from now on without being ordered, but failure will result in severe punishment.”

“Yes, sir. I think I know what to do now. At least for this part of it. I’ve not experienced a wake up here, yet.”

“And for that, orders will still be given. But only once.”

Eric shook himself, stepped into the cubicle and stuck his arms through the ceiling.

At least this time the ring didn’t emerge from the floor. It was just soapy water followed by a rinse. The moment he was dry, the cabinet door slid open and…

“Go to bed.”

“Yes, sir.”

His head hit the pillow, the lights went out and it didn’t take long for Eric to follow.
* * *
“Prisoner 50095223. Dress and make your bed.”

Eric snapped awake with a smile. He stretched, said “Yes, sir.” without even thinking and got out of bed. God, he felt good.

Dressed, he worked on the bed, making it with his usual military precision. He was done in ten minutes and stood to attention next to it.

“Prisoner 50095223. Select breakfast items.”

“Yes, sir. Cell, menu. I thought… The tutorial said make bed, stand to attention.”

“The tutorial is outdated. Several items have been changed or added.”

“Including the… enforced masturbation last night?”

“Affirmative.”

“Cell, select food and drink.”

The list was different this time. Toast and marmalade or jam, various breakfast cereals including porridge… There was no full English option, but then, Eric hadn’t expected that. The one they’d served Cal the morning after his arrival was the first the doctor had had in his life.

“Cell. A round of toast with lemon marmalade and a cup of coffee, please.”

“Select type of milk and sweetener.”

He studied the screen again and sagged. Of course. No cow’s milk. Just Soy, Almond and a few he’d never heard of. “Almond milk, half a teaspoon of sugar.”

“Sugar is not available.”

Again he looked at the screen. It was just a list of incomprehensible brand names as far as he was concerned. Sweetly? Disak? The list went on.

“Just select the sweetener that most closely resembles the sweetness of sucrose without any nasty aftertaste.”

“Meal is being prepared and will be ready when you emerge from the cubicle. Toilet.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was ready for it this time. Even looking forward to it a little, so, when the chair locked him down and the thing probed his anus, he imagined himself taking a dump and it relaxed enough for the pop not to cause any pain. After that, everything was as it had been before. He relaxed into it even more, allowing his bladder to empty, the cycle completed, he had his wash and when he emerged, his breakfast awaited him.

He dressed, sat at the table and ate, careful not to allow anything to fall onto the table, finished his coffee, discarded the tray and its contents and waited. Then he remembered the tutorial. Might as well be thorough. He stripped, used his uniform to wipe down the table, discarded it and dressed again.

“Cell, is it now I should stand to attention?”

“A brief time to relax after breaking your fast is permitted.”

“Cell, resume the book I was on last night.”

He managed to complete the chapter he’d been on before the order for attention came.
* * *
There wasn’t a boom, he didn’t even hear a click when the door slid open and the guard entered. He must’ve been standing to attention for at least an hour, maybe longer. Eric remained as he had been. Staring forward in the stiffest attention he could muster.

He followed the guard with his eyes as best he could, as he ticked this or that off on the screen that hovered before him.

He stepped in front of Eric and stared up his nose.

“So, you’re the newest arrival.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Name?”

“50095223 Unknown, sir.”

“I asked for your name.”

“If I’d given my real name, every computer in the place would’ve accused me of lying, sir. You can thank the police for that. They had a little… fun at my expense after my arrest, sir. They fixed the name Unknown onto my chip so securely, a laser couldn’t remove it, sir.”

“That’s… That’s disgusting!”

“Not as disgusting as my conviction record, sir. According to them, I committed my first murder when I was six months old and my first rape when I was three, sir. The governor’s trying to schedule a retrial, sir.”

“What crimes do you believe you’re actually guilty of?”

“Theft and actual bodily harm, sir. I stole a few computers and unintentionally injured a man’s hand in the process, sir.”

He held up his computer. “Place your hand on the computer.”

“Yes, sir.” Eric did as he was told.

“Computer, access the records associated with this chip.”

Personal profile, list of convictions, lack of any information at all apart from the name Eric. At the sight of it, the blood drained from his face.

“Blood and shit! You’re tellin’ the truth an’ all! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s OK sir. If it wasn’t for the threat of block eight hovering over my head…” Eric took a deep breath. “I know I can survive, here, sir. Even started to enjoy bits of it and I’ve only been here a… well… I won’t say day because I’ve got no idea but that’s what it feels like.”

“But it says you’ve been here longer.”

“I was in the prison hospital for the first four, unconscious, sir.”

“Ah… Yes, there it is. And I see you’ve decided to involve yourself. Flute lessons?”

“I figured, why not? I might be here for the rest of my life, so, I might as well make it as interesting as possible, sir. Besides, every other course seemed to be full, sir. I only got onto that one by the skin of my teeth, sir. I’ve also offered to teach, sir. The governor should be arranging it.”

“Really diving in headfirst. Bloody good attitude.”

“Why wallow in self-pity? I prefer to make myself useful, sir.”

“And you made that bed yourself?”

“No-one else has been in my cell, sir. Yes, sir.”

“Did you sleep on the floor?”

“I’m sure if I’d tried that, the cell would’ve detected it and punished me, sir. No, sir. I made it.”

“This is the best-made bed I’ve seen in a long time. Explain.”

“I’m a soldier, sir. Military discipline includes the making of a perfect bed, sir.”

“Military?”

“It’s complicated, sir. If you have a free few hours sometimes, I might be able to explain it, sir.”

“I might take you up on that. Sounds like an interesting story. Very good. Get yourself down to the gym. I expect you to remake your bed again when you get back, before your shower. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Tipping a bunk’s nothing new to me, sir. Another aspect of army life, sir.”

“How did you know that’s what I was going to do?”

“The tutorial was quite explicit about how illegal it is for me to possess anything, sir. Stands to reason you’d conduct a thorough search, sir.”

“And that doesn’t even upset you?”

“No, sir. I’m treading on eggshells in ‘ere sir. Very careful. I know what happens if I slip up, so I won’t sir.”

“Good. Very good. Now, out.”

“Yes, sir.” Eric did a swift left turn marched a couple of steps, stamped to a halt and placed his hand on the door. “Open.”
* * *
Eric entered the gym to find all the blacks loitering near the door.

“Col, Howard…”

Col turned. “Ah, our newest recruit… What are you smiling about?”

Eric hadn’t even noticed he was. His grin grew wider. “Last night.”

“What about it?”

“Bloody hell, it was the most amazing…” he looked at each of them, at their confused expressions. “You didn’t find anything about last night unusual?”

“Seeing you get knocked off your feet and” Col made air quotes “interviewed by the police was a new one. What was all that?”

“Wait… what? I never got that. I was talking about the pre-sleep routine.”

Col shrugged. “Why show us though?”

“I think I can guess. The governor, remember. He saw that list of fake charges, he saw who ordered it. Apparently he’s been trying to gather evidence against that fuckwit for a long time and now he’s got it. Probably thought showing everyone what they did to me, they’d see me as… Well… Not something to be scared of. I might start making friends among the greys. Better than them running away in terror at the sight of me, I suppose.”

“They’re not worth it. None of them!”

“I think they are.” Eric tapped his temple. “Use this, Col. Everyone’s useful in one way or another. Why not make friends with 'em? You never know what they’re capable of!”

“Most of them, they’re nothing but network bullies. Too cowardly to even face their victims. They do it all behind their bloody screens, hiding, picking on someone thousands of miles away. Insulting, belittling…”

“Not total cowards if they know they can get sent here for doing it. Even them, though… Trolls, we call them up north. Even they could be useful if you put your mind to it.”

“Why trolls?”

“The more you feed ‘em, the bigger they get. You could argue until you’re blue in the face with one and all they’d get out of it is the satisfaction they got someone angry. But think… You know a troll, you point him at the right place… Perfect distraction. While that security guard’s busy arguing, you could sneak past… Well, you get the idea. You could defame someone you don’t like, ruin their lives, all kindsa things. Besides, I bet only the lightest greys are trolls, right? Hardly a serious offence?”

“That depends if they bullied someone into suicide or not. Grey three for them if not darker. Let’s backtrack, what about the pre-sleep?”

“I never expected it, that’s all. Wank on command and god, the technique… I’d been doin’ it wrong all these years. Self-taught, so I was using the grip’n’pump method. Never lasted more than a couple of minutes.”

How smirked. “No wonder he’s smiling. I had a similar experience, but… Didn’t you find it the least bit… well… humiliating?”

“I’d already accepted I had no control over my life anymore. Why dwell on the irrelevant? I’m here, I follow orders, that’s my life now no matter what the order is. Not like I have any choice in the matter.”

Don nudged Wall and nodded. “Shit, he’s a fast learner. It took me weeks to come to terms with everything here.”

“It’s more than coming to terms with it.” Eric shrugged. “I like a lot of it. I’d be content here if it weren’t for bloody Damocles threat! So what if I never see the sky again, there’s enough here to keep me busy for years.”

“Busy?”

“Signed up for flute grade one. Why not? A few years from now I might end up playing in an orchestra. Also volunteered. I offered to teach something I’m good at.”

“You’ve not even been here a day and you volunteered!?”

“Why not? I like to keep busy. That arrest on screen last night’ll help no end. Bet none of the greys would’ve signed up for what I’m offering if they’d not seen it. Now, they might, and it’ll certainly keep me in the governor’s good books. Never mind all that though… why are we all standing by the door? Expected it to be a hive of sweaty prisoners.” Eric looked around the room for the first time. It was large, open, but there didn’t seem to be any machines. No dumbbells, no running machines or weighs on the frames for pull or push-ups… The room seemed to be empty. “And where are all the weights?”

“We’re waiting for the instructor. Can’t do anything here without him. As for the weights, there aren’t any. This is prison, remember. Everything’s controlled by the computer.”

“I’ll have to ask this instructor how, then, cos… I’ve got no idea how to use whatever’s here in that case.”

Col nodded. “That’s what he’s paid for. Should warn you, he’ll have you on your knees by the end of it.”

Eric laughed. “Oh god, I’d love to see him try. I work and work hard. I’ve only been reduced to my knees a couple of times in the past few years and one of them was after a serious bout of the flu.”

“What… what exactly have you volunteered for?”

“Carpentry and Woodcarving. Something they stopped doing here years ago, but, it might not be a useful skill, but bloody hell it’s satisfying when you’re good at it.”

“And the governor agreed?”

“When he saw what I was capable of, yes.”

“How could he even see that?”

“The police locked my computer before they arrested me. After the trial I never even got to attend, it was unlocked and the doctor downloaded all the content. Lots of images of my work on there.”

“But you said you were an electronics dabbler.”

“A man can have more than one interest, can’t he? My dad taught me. He learned it from a woodsman in the Canadian wilderness and passed it on to me. And yes, I did use real wood. Here though, they’ll have to use fake wood, printed to be as close to the real thing as possible.”

One of them he’d not spoken to yet sidled up. “Sounds interesting. When do you think you’ll be ready?”

Eric sighed. “Apparently, the workshops are just used for storage, now, so first on the agenda will be to clear the one they used for woodwork out. I’ll be doing that soon, hopefully, and I’m sorry… But… He made one thing quite clear. What I’ll be teaching… Very sharp tools, so no-one with violence in their history… It’ll only be the lighter shades of grey allowed.”

How chuckled. “After what you told us last night?”

“He doesn’t know that! I know everything’s monitored but you can’t expect them to pick up on every conversation. I hope to god my admission last night doesn’t make it to him… Suppose I’ll have to hope none of you lot are vindictive cunts either.”

All of them shook their heads. “The one rule every single one of us, from near white to black as pitch knows is… You do not squeal to the screws! We might not be able to make their lives unbearable, but the greys can. And they do.”

“Good. I was hoping that might be the case. You said you’d introduce everyone else?”

Col nodded and pointed at each. “Our friendly rivals here… We only stick to our little groups because it spreads us around a bit more. More room on the floor for us. Otherwise, we’d just push the tables together. We talk using the table. This short arsed shit is Cheb. He’s one of our lot. When you approached, he’d gone to his cell for a piss and a relax.

Cheb was indeed short, at about five foot four, but he more than made up for it in muscle. He extended his hand and Eric shook it.

“And these six… He pointed them out in turn. Zub, Mak, Mal, Ben, Ford and Vex…”

Eric looked at Vex with a grin. “I know not to get on your bad side.”

Vex chuckled. “I did live up to my name outside.” He sighed. “Here, I can’t even lose my bloody temper.”

Eric shook his head. “This is the perfect place to lose that temper. But use it.”

“What do you mean, use it?”

“I learned a long time ago… You can use it. God, it gives you a boost when you learn how to let it out. And here, you can let it out safely.”

“I… how?”

“Exercise. If you’re doing push-ups, imagine the people who annoyed you and don’t just push down… Punch down, full force. Let it out. Massive increase in strength when you’ve got anger to back it up. Running? Just imagine the person in front of you, fleeing in terror. You might even impress this instructor of yours and get a privilege out of it if you’ve not got them already. Or a lock on them if you have.”

“Blood and shit! I’ll have to give that a try! Why couldn’t you have been here five years ago?”

Eric chuckled. “So that’s what accounts for friends here. Wishing another five years onto my sentence. Where the hell is he? Is he always late?”

“Usually complains about traffic.”

He didn’t know how long it was before a man in athletic shorts and a vest entered the room. He didn’t say a word as he put his hand on the panel beside it. “Activate and lock.”

He turned and glared at them, still waiting.

“Well, don’t just stand there! You know where you should be, so get to it!”

All twelve of them rushed off to different parts of the room.

Eric watched them with interest. There hadn’t been much of a change in this room. A few things seemed to have dropped from the ceiling but apart from that, he couldn’t see anything different.

“Well?”

Eric turned. “Sir?”

“I said get to it!”

“Get to what, sir? I don’t see anything to get to, sir.”

He looked at the rest, then at Eric. “Thirteen? Since when were there… Why wasn’t I informed we had a new inmate?”

Eric shrugged. “We just get told where to go and what to do, sir. No-one ever tells us anything else.”

“So you have been here a while? So you should know what to bloody well do!”

“No, sir. Still my first day. Well, I got my cell yesterday, but it’s my first time here, sir.”

“So how did you”

“I have a mind, sir. I know how it is just from yesterday, sir. I know how it’ll be for the rest of my stay, if not the rest of my life, sir. I just need instruction. I’ve never seen a gym like this before. Every other one I’ve been in had weight sets, rowing machines, treadmills…”

He sighed. “Right. You need more than instruction. You need a full evaluation, so I know what I’m dealing with.”

“Thank you, sir. I almost hope you do have me on my knees, sir.”

“Oh, I will.”

“I doubt it, sir. But it’ll be interesting to find out.”

“Come with me.” The instructor crossed the room, heading for a door at the back. A swipe of the hand, he entered and emerged with some kind of tablet.

“Hand.”

Eric placed his hand on it.

The instructor didn’t look at it, he just walked over to a part of the room with a target on the wall. “Five kilometres, fastest time. Begin.”

“You want me to run around the room, sir?”

He rolled his eyes. “Shit, you’ve really haven’t seen equipment like this?”

“I don’t see any equipment, sir. It’s just a wall.”

“Just… walk forward.”

“Yes, sir.” Eric did, but the target didn’t get any closer. He looked around in confusion, then at the floor. It was moving. “I… So this is a treadmill?”

“Yes, and the closer you get to the target, the faster it goes, so don’t trip up over your own feet at full pelt.” he sighed. “Gym. Activate safety nets. Just in case. As you’ve never used it before I suppose it’ll be prudent.”

Eric glanced over his shoulder as two poles rose out of the floor. Between them, what looked like a nylon mesh.

“That should catch you if you do stumble. Better than being shot across the room. Now run!”

Eric nodded and bolted towards the target. He knew how to run. He knew how to pace himself and he knew exactly how far five k was, but, as it was his first time and it was the first exercise he’d had in a week, he decided to push himself, just as the induction had said he should. To his limits. He ran.

A screen appeared indicating time, distance, heart rate and several other statistics. His only concern, the distance. He focussed on it. He dug deep. He released his bottled up emotions and pushed himself even more.

The miles flew by and he felt bloody good in doing it. He loved the freedom of the run, even if there was no freedom and, fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds later, he crossed the five-kilometre threshold and slowed to a trot, then a walk, then stopped and turned to the instructor. “What’s next, sir?”

The instructor walked over to the display with a dazed expression… “Your VO2, your lactic acid, your heart rate… Even your recovery time! What the hell are you?”

“I’ve had a lot of unusual things happen to me over my life, sir. Some of them, you wouldn’t believe but I got some massive benefits from them, even if they were hell to go through at the time. I’m at the peak, sir. Of physical fitness. I know that much from my doctor when he examined me. When he saw what I was capable of he had he me loaded up and run into the ground, sir, while I was carrying his scanner and computer. I might be fit, sir. But he said I can’t get any fitter.”

“How…” he shook his head. “Weights.” He walked down the wall a few steps and pointed. A metal pole the length of a barbell lay on the floor. “That pole is connected to resistance equipment under the floor. All bars are. We don’t use weights, here. The computer’s far more flexible. Bench press that bar. I will increase the weight until you can’t handle it anymore.”

“Yes, sir. But there isn’t a bench, sir.”

“There’s no need for a bench. The padding on a bench is just for the comfort of the gym customer. You’re a prisoner, you don’t deserve comfort. You will also not be equipped with a weight lifting belt. If you suffer any injuries you just report to the prison hospital and they’ll fix you up again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eric picked up the bar. Two steel cords emerged from the floor. He lay down, moved under it and put himself in the optimal position.

“Gym, position five, ten kilos on each side. Unknown, ten reps. Begin.”

Of course, twenty was nothing to Eric but after each ten repetitions, the instructor added another ten kilos. Eric performed them with ease, forty, fifty… It wasn’t until seventy that he started to struggle until he felt the need to dig deep, to roar as his emotions were released, as he forced the bar up. Finally, he began to sweat. When it got to ninety, he really struggled and one hundred, he’d reached his limit. Combined with all the other reps at all the other weights, he only managed one before the bar slipped out of his grasp.

He yelped as it plunged towards his chest, but when it hit, there was no weight to it at all.

Eric struggled to his feet and stared at the thing. “When I lost my grip… Fuck... me. I thought I was dead! So, I… I don’t even need someone to spot for me?”

“An offer of sexual”

“No! Sir! It’s just an expression. Of shock! Speak to the governor or Doctor Conrad, sir. They’ll explain.”

“And how do you explain it?”

“Expletives picked up from a place much more sexually repressed than here, sir. Along with a whole heap of religious ones. From America, sir. My parents lived in Canada near the border for years before they had me. I got it from them.” Eric lowered his voice. “That’s what I tell them, anyway, sir. Doctor Conrad and the governor know the truth, sir.”

“Five minutes rest before the next exercise.”

“Thank you, sir.”

They moved around the room, each pole or pair of shorter ones to mimic dumbells, either connected by a cord to the floor or dangling from the ceiling, each time, a display appeared showing vital statistics as the instructor pushed him to his limits.

The poles replicated every possible exercise for arms and upper body. For legs, Eric had no idea.

He gasped for breath recovering from the latest exercise. “Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“What about legs? Every gym I’ve been in before offered total body. Everything we’ve done so far…”

“For those, we have squats and we can strap the tension lines to your ankles while you lie on your back or stomach. Yes, it’s not ideal but it’s good enough for you.” He pulled one of the long ones from the floor. “Hold this across your shoulders. Gym, station one, ten kilos on each side, Prisoner, 10 squats, go.”

“Yes, sir.”
* * *
“Unknown, that… Was…” the instructor shook his head. “Well, the computer’s stored all your results now, so there’ll be no need for me to set anything up. You’ll have everything configured to your profile the moment you step into the specific area.”

“Tha… thank you, sir… That was the hardest I’ve been pushed in a long time. Damn, I wish I was a grey. I could learn to love it in ‘ere.”

“You still can. It is your life now.”

“Unless I fuck up, sir. If that happens, you’ll never see me again unless you run the gym in block eight. That’s what’s stopping me from loving it.”

He sighed. “Yes. Well. You know the rules. All very easy to avoid. My advice, just in case you do rub someone up the wrong way…”

“Sir?”

“When you leave your cell, always lock it. Prisoners can’t get in without an invitation, civilians can.”

“Civilians, sir? How the hell do they get into the cell block, sir?”

“The guards are in the employ of the prison service. I and other trainers, teachers, office workers and various others are not. We’re contractors. Obviously, we would require a guard to escort us, but… Well… Lock it, and you’ll need a guard to open it and a guard should not do that at the request of civilian.”

“So, I couldn’t even unlock it myself?”

He shook his head. “It is an extra layer of security, though. If you can’t get in, you can’t be accused of putting something in there after inspection and as you don’t have pockets, the guard who unlocks should be able to back you up.”

Eric took a deep breath. “I just hope that’s enough. Thank you, sir.”

“Stand by the door and await the others. You won’t be permitted to leave until everyone’s finished.”

“Yes, sir.”