Violence And Decency

Perfect World story (The NOW)

Renton Feihn sat in the brand-spanking-new guard office of the brand-spanking-new Perfect World prison spanning the banks of the Schuylkill river in Philadelphia. His feet were up and he was reading the paper, a glazed donut and steaming hot coffee on the desk next to him.

He shook his head at the news. The previous president had more than wiped out the surplus of the administration before him by colluding with corporations which were 'too big to fail'. Now this newly elected President was floundering-- without cash, he had no choice but to order the printing of money, further devaluing the American dollar abroad. To make matters worse, it seemed he was also lining CEO pockets, furthering America's debt. Now important programs were shutting down all over the country-- even public schools were in danger of closing from lack of funds.

But the news which had hit home the hardest for Feihn regarded the penal system. There was no more funding to keep the prison lights on, the electric locks locked or the guards paid. Every nonviolent inmate had already been released,

to consolidate the most dangerous prisoners from fifty area jails down to one. Now the little money left had dried up and that prison was about to let thousands of murderous maniacs back onto the streets. That's when the formerly secret city of Aden surfaced...

It was a shock to the entire country. A city had been built right here in the United States that nobody knew about? One that was operating under an experimental social system far removed from American capitalism? It seemed impossible, but Aden had a plan to help the country. Though just one solitary city, its system had proven to be so successful that it had the resources to make a countrywide contribution and was about to solve a major problem.

The deals were made; the agreements were struck and work began on a new solution to crime. Current prisons were a dreary authoritarian man's colony where little attempt was made to influence their behavior or to teach them a skill-- they were just lifelong waiting rooms to hell.

Aden operated under a social system called Perfect World and had a better idea, and without government intervention was able to design and quickly put a plan into action. Renton Feihn was sitting in the guard office of that solution, the Schuylkill Centenarium.

Built entirely with Aden manufactured products and using only Aden construction teams, the 12 million square foot Psych Repair Unit held an astonishing 125,000 inmates, or 'Interns' as the Perfect Worlders insist they be called. Furthermore, each Intern had their own comfortable 12x12 room, made entirely of Softsteel, an Aden product with the texture of soft foam and the strength of steel cable. The enormous complex was completed in 2 scant months, an easy accomplishment without red tape. Additionally, the fact that it created power from the river passing below meant it could sell billions of kilowatts a year, making enough money to run at a profit for its entire operating life.

Feihn had watched the many training videos put out by his PeeWee 'masters' and envied them and their success.

Even though the few he met were nice people, he couldn't help wondering if they were looking at him as though he were somehow less advanced. Regardless, they had some amazing new building techniques.

The construction video looked like 22nd century technology. Enormous specialized trucks brought thousands of prefabricated panels ready for assembly onto the narrow beams spanning the river-- and drove directly onto them! Then robotic arms on the truck stood the panels in place and attached them in one smooth movement. Floors snapped together; wall and ceiling sections attached to them and each other with a 'ker-chunk'. As soon as each floor was completed it was filled with Interns even as new floors were being constructed above them, such was the superiority of Aden construction.

Small, soundproof Intern quarters made up the bulk of the building; completely prewired and plumbed, they were the functional high-tech centers for long-term counseling and learning. As each floor was completed it was 'awoken'; one wall of each room had a large embedded computer screen which processed the vast amounts of data collected from encounters with its Intern. Feihn was one of the first guards employed, in charge of 40 of the 2500 Interns on Floor 1, one of 60 guards per floor.

Feihn's job was very, very different from his tenure at Eastern State Penitentiary-- and the biggest difference was that he didn't have contact with his Interns. He never walked rounds, never broke up fights, never cracked heads. His job was to monitor the many computer screens in front of him for aberrations and problems. For example, during his first month on the job many Interns, who were not used to this type of prison situation, tried to break out of their rooms. Only one was strong enough to do so and was nearly killed when he realized there was no hallway outside of his room, just a lethal twenty-story drop!

The Centenarium had no hallways; instead, a multi-directional elevator centered itself in front of the doorway and, like a regular elevator, opened the two sets of doors simultaneously.

The Intern had lost his balance, but snagged the edge of his room and hung there for several long minutes, screaming his head off, until a PeeWee programmed an elevator to come up from below and prevent the man's deadly fall. The Intern then retreated into his room and that was the last trouble from him.

"Feihn, what does this mean?"

The question came from Anthony Torelli, another guard... and Feihn's friend of sorts. The two had met at the interview and had found an immediate connection because both of their fathers had been incarcerated, so were pleased to be assigned together.

Feihn looked over at Torelli's computer. There were 40 small pictures of the Interns in Torelli's charge; one was highlighted in red. "That's a warning screen, Tony... just press the picture for more information."

"Oh, right... I forgot. I haven't seen one of those in weeks." Torelli tapped the screen and the picture expanded to a live view of the room. The Intern was obviously distressed; the man's face was beet red and was pounding the wall with his fists. Torelli reviewed the automated log entries detailing the man's morning activities. All looked fine... he had completed the morning's calisthenics, eaten breakfast, completed his first hour with the beautiful video Psychiatrist, taken and passed a quiz about dynamic energy production, taken a video call from his wife, and masturbated. Torelli reviewed the phone conversation and found out she had some distressing news for him-- his mother was very sick and had been brought to the hospital.

"Tough break, Intern 6754302," Torelli muttered to himself, releasing the screen. "Hey Feihn, do we have to call 'em Interns? I'd rather call 'em prisoners, or inmates... or even scumbags."

"It's the PeeWee's way. Respect, Retrain, Reflect. That's straight out of the Centenarium handbook, Tony. Hell, it's up in two-foot letters right on the wall!"

"Yeah, right. I know. I just don't agree with the PeeWees. I think everyone's gotta play the hand they're dealt, Feihn, and do it without killing someone along the way."

"Maybe. But some of those hands were downright rotten. Did you know almost every one of these Interns was physically or sexually abused as a child? Most of them couldn't get through school. That translates into lousy job opportunities and constant poverty. And without good role models to fall back on, they used their primal survival skills. It's all very logical."

Torelli stared at him. "You mean you agree with them? I think the PeeWees are a bunch of assholes."

"I'm not all that fond of them as people, Torelli... I can't help getting the feeling that they scorn us and our ways. Still, we don't rehabilitate the criminals in our prisons. These guys do. Speaking of which, aren't you gonna issue a visit pass to that Intern to see his mother?"

"Why? He's a murderer!"

"Read the case notes, Tony. The Psychiatrist has given him below .2% for recurrence potential. That's very low. He's entitled to a visit pass for emergencies."

"He killed his father! And what the hell does a cartoon doctor know, anyway?"

"His abusive father, whom he killed while protecting his mother. And the doctor on the Intern's screen is a complex interactive software program that draws on the knowledge of a thousand brilliant psychiatrists."

"It's not a doctor, Feihn-- it's a PlayStation game. And murder is murder, whatever the reason."

Feihn rolled his eyes. "He hit his father, once, with a paperweight to stop him. That's self- defense. It was the rest of the blows that he was convicted for."

"Are you listening to yourself? He hit his father thirty-seven times with a glass paperweight. The guy's head was flattened like pastry dough! That is sick!"

"All I'm saying," Feihn sighed, "is that this guy's life would have turned out very differently if society had been there to stop the abuse early on. Come on, issue the pass... he loves his mother and he likes being here and will be released in in a year at the rate he's going. We tag him anyway... it's not like we can't find him if he tries to escape."

"I don't care if he falls down a well out there. I just don't want anybody else to get hurt."

"Fine... I'll do it." Feihn accessed the Intern list and made the modification. In the cell the Psychiatrist appeared and said, "Mr Cook, we have decided to allow you a visit with your mother at the hospital."

The Intern looked at the screen suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"You can leave the Centenarium to spend all day with your mother in the hospital. We will arrange transport."

"You mean I can leave?" he repeated, disbelieving.

"Yes. Your lessons and therapy will continue upon your return this evening. Keep this up Mr Cook, and you will be able to leave permanently in less than a year. Please stand next to the medicine slot."

The Intern stood up, taken aback, and leaned his shoulder against the soft round indentation in the wall. He felt the familiar cold spray of alcohol and then a pinprick. He pulled away. There was an adhesive bandage on his arm.

"Please remove items from the dispenser."

He slid the small door down and removed a pile of outdoor clothing and shoes, and an earwig.

"Wear the clothes, press the receiver into your ear and then stand by the door, please." He did as he was asked. Momentarily the door opened into an elevator car. He entered and sat on the chair, shifting oddly whenever the car moved sideways. When the door finally opened it was abutting the back of a truck, which had been outfitted with cushioned seats.

In his ear he heard, "You will be taken to the hospital from here. You have until 10 tonight to spend with your mother. The truck will wait here. Please be prompt or it could affect your final release date."

The guards watched the transfer onscreen. "You allowed this, Feihn, now it's your responsibility. You better hope he don't go postal out there." Torelli leaned over and whispered into his ear, looking smug. "I'd a let him rot in there."

Torelli's console beeped; he looked over curiously. "What the hell is this? Feihn, do you know anything about this?"

Feihn glanced at the screen. A message requesting Torelli's presence at the main office blinked in large letters. "I never got one of those. I don't know what it is. You better get over there-- I hear the PeeWees don't like to be kept waiting."

Torelli got up, muttering, and waited by the door. It opened and he walked inside, muttering as the doors closed up on him.

"You're right, you know."

Feihn snapped around. The room was empty. Until the Centenarium reached full occupancy, it was just Torelli and himself in this six-man room. Where was the woman that belonged to that voice?

"About the Perfect Worlders, I mean. The PeeWees. They're a little snooty."

Still nobody. Feihn must have looked paranoid because the voice added, "I'm the Psychiatrist. I'm sorry I haven't spoken sooner."

"The Psychiatrist? The computerized Psychiatrist? Aren't you just software?"

"Well... yes. But I'm very advanced software!"

"Um... okay. I guess." Feihn was surprised to be holding a conversation with a computer, and more surprised when he found himself asking, "So what were you saying?"

"I find the Perfect Worlders to be a little snooty, I said. Superior. They don't feel safe here and mask it with that whole air of diffidence, in my medical opinion."

"Huh. I thought it was because their system is much better than ours."

"Well, yes. That too, but only because it is. There's no question. But it does tend to make them feel ill at ease whenever they leave Aden."

Feihn smiled. "I didn't think they worried about anything. Somehow, I like them better now. Why did they want Torelli?"

"They didn't. I pulled him out."

"You did? You can do that?"

"When necessary. And it was definitely necessary. I overheard your conversation. I'm required to track every conversation to look for problems like the one that just occurred."

"What just occurred?"

"Torelli slipped through the screening process. PeeWees agreed to have old world employees because of how far Aden is from here. So they screened all the old guards to find the ones who would fit in this job."

"I remember that screening. Wait. Old world?"

"Old world is this one. The one you live in."

"Oh, right. Yup, snooty. Please continue."

The Psychiatrist suddenly popped up on every computer screen in the room. Though she didn't look exactly real, Feihn felt Torelli had mischaracterized her as a cartoon. Sure, she was a little fuzzy around the outline and she sometimes jittered a little when speaking, but she was an alluring young woman. She had thick brown hair loosely piled up in a bun, exposing a long neck of smooth, golden skin. Severe black framed glasses did not detract from her sultry, pouty, shining lips, and all men were jealous of the yellow Ticonderoga number 2 that she perennially chewed.

The image spoke. "There! That's better!" She continued. "So, only about 5% of all the guards had the right temperament to work here, and you, Renton Feihn, ranked closest of them all. Anthony Torelli scored on the other end-- he was the cutoff. Hearing his view of Interns, I realized he could do harm to the process, so I put him in one of the empty Re-training rooms for... well, re-training."

One screen changed to a view of an Intern room. Sure enough, there was Torelli, pacing back and forth in that tiny twelve by twelve space, muttering. Step, step, step, quick turn, mutter. The screen glowed and displaying the Psychiatrist. He yelled, "What am I doing in a cell? I'm a guard! I have prisoners to watch!"

"Calm down, Mr Torelli... I'm giving you a small vacation. Lie down on the bed and close your eyes." The room darkened and was filled with the sounds of the shore; wind, calling birds, breaking waves. Muttering, Torelli lay on the bed.

"I'm going to hypnotize him and see what's troubling the poor man, Renton. I think we can fix him, too." The Psychiatrist spoke from the monitor in the guard office. Feihn wondered if she ever felt schizophrenic, being in so many places at once, carrying on so many conversations, and asked as much.

"Each 'me' in a Re-training Room is its own program-- each room has its own CPU. The software delivers results to the central computer. That's Me. I decide on courses of treatment and relay them back. So Torelli is talking to the room Psychiatrist, not to me."

"You have a hierarchal system between 'Psychiatrists'?"

"More of a lateral one. Each of 'us' has their own job to do, and we converse when our jobs overlap. But I have final say- I'm the tiebreaker. My avatar has this gold necklace, see?"

"Yes. Do you have a name? I've been calling you 'the Psychiatrist'."

"You can call me D. D Prime."

"Dee?"

"The letter 'D', for doctor. We don't have names... only the living person modeled here does."

"Really? There's an actual person that looks like you?"

"Sure. She programmed us. She's back in Aden."

The Psychiatrist had been speaking in dulcet tones to Torelli, who seemed to be completely asleep. But at the simple request, "Rise, please," he stood on his feet, eyes still closed. "We're going to go on a little trip, Tony, to when you were a little, little boy. What's the first thing you remember?" Torelli opened his mouth and spoke, but there was only silence.

Feihn fiddled with the volume control. "What happened? I can't hear anything."

The Psychiatrist smiled. "And you won't, Renton. Sessions are private, remember?"

"Right, right! Sorry." He flipped the monitor off .

Darnell Cook, Murderer, stepped out of the truck and into the cool autumn air. He stretched and took a deep breath and gave a long look at the treeline across the street before entering the hospital.

"Mahalia Cook," he said to the information desk attendant.

The woman typed efficiently. Click, click, click. The computer beeped and printed out a badge. "Room 2617."

He paused at his mother's room before entering. He could hear the heart monitor beep. What would he say? Would she fear him? Should he call her first? He turned to find a phone when she said, "Is that you, Darnell? Get in here, boy!"

"Yes, mama." He shuffled into the room, a child of nine again.

"Well let me look at you, boy! Turn around, now." She sounded as ornery as ever, but she looked pale and thin in that big hospital bed.

"Are you all right, momma? Tish wouldn't tell me much, only that you were here."

"I'm just fine, boy, just fine."

"Mama, what happened to you?"

"How'd you get out, boy? You break out?"

"No, mama. They let me out. Good behavior, I guess. It's just for today, so you have to get better right away. Did you have a heart attack, mama?"

Mahalia exhaled, and sunk more deeply into the bed. She reached out a translucent hand and Darnell held it gingerly, like he would a dry leaf. "A heart attack would've been a blessing, Darnell. Mama has cancer."

The room temperature dropped forty degrees in Darnell's mind. "You caught it early, right mama?" He sounded desperate.

"The doctors say it's bad. They say I don't have much time. It's good you came, boy. Give your mama a hug."

Darnell did as he was told, caressing her skeletal form, tears dripping onto the back of her hospital gown. "Don't die, mama," he whispered into her neck.

Anthony Torelli entered the guard room following lunch. "Man, am I stuffed! Mario's has the best calzone. Here, I brought you a mostaccioli."

Feihn held out his hand and Torelli dropped an invisible lunch into it. "What's this? Are you kidding me?"

"You're a good guy, Renton. Thank me later." He sat in his chair and started up the noon review. "Have you been checking on Darnell? Poor guy."

"Darnell?"

"You know, the kid you didn't want me to let see his mama in the hospital, you heartless son of a gun... have you been watching his vitals? Look here, where it spiked? I bet he got some really bad news."

Feihn was about to lash into Torelli for being insane when his monitor flashed the message 'Torelli still under treatment. Go with it.'

Ahh. The Psychiatrist. No wonder Torelli was so cozy with the murderer he had shunned this morning-- he was probably under some form of hypnosis! Feihn was surprised at the treatment's apparent effectiveness-- he knew the PeeWee's psych methods worked, but had no idea they would work so thoroughly... or so quickly!

"See, here? The audio record indicates his mama just told him she has cancer. Jeez, tough break!"

That wasn't a hypnotic suggestion like the mostaciolli-- Feihn could see the files Torelli was talking about. He was surprised when the man dug a little deeper. "Doctor's report says she has leukemia. Let's see what the Perfect World Bible has to say about leukemia."

"Wow. Taking this case a little personal, aren't you, Tony? I never even saw you access the Bible site before."

Torelli ignored him. "Hey, look here! They say they've developed a treatment for it based on the Kanzius machine! It says the inventor was on the right track, wanting to inject particles that travel to the cancer sites and then heat them up with harmless radio waves to kill the cancer cells, but chose the wrong materials. He was trying heavy metals, especially gold and platinum, but they killed mostly healthy cells. The PeeWees use carbon nanotubes, which bind to the receptors of cancer cells but not healthy cells. I'm going to put in a request."

"What kind of request? Wait-- don't you want to talk about this first? Tony, wait!" But it was already done. "You asked for a medical procedure for an Intern's parent? What makes you think they will do that?"

Torelli's monitor flashed green, and an astounded Feihn said, "Th-they approved it?"

"I'm as surprised as you. Says here it's a simple and inexpensive treatment, takes about an hour and has no side effects after the tissue heals. And get this-- it's almost 100% effective!"

Darnell watched his sweet mama sleep following her regular push of pain medication. That was her pattern, her nurse had said. Push, sleep for two hours, wake up in pain and wait two hours for the next push. Tish said it was hard to watch, and boy she was right.

Where was Tish? He only had 12 hours on the outside and longed for the touch of his wife. He'd called her cell after mama had fallen asleep the first time but it had gone straight to voice mail. He left his timetable but she hadn't called back. Now he only had a few hours left, and could miss her altogether. He was aware of how sketchy their marriage had become when he was incarcerated last year-- even if the 25 year sentence was commuted back to twelve, she made no promises about remaining faithful, or even married. Then when the Centenarium people had taken over and estimated the length of his recovery at only three years he finally had a reason for hope.

But waiting that long for time with his wife seemed stupid, now that he was outside of his little room. All he had to do was take a quick right out of the far north exit and he would never be seen leaving the hospital. Roll someone for cash, get a throwaway cell phone and arrange a meet with her-- it was easy to do.

That's when his earwig came to life.

"Mr Cook, I have wonderful news. Your hosts have agreed to treat your mother. They have a technique which is very effective against your mother's type of cancer. You can bring her back with you today, as soon as the hospital finishes the paperwork. Congratulations!"

Darnell lurched. That place ain't like the prison I was in, he thought, and said, "Oh, that's wonderful, miss Psychiatrist. But I wonder, since I'm out, could I arrange a conjugal visit with my wife?"

There was no response. Just as he'd feared, the devices were one-way. What a dilemma! He hoped his wife would get there soon, because if he had to choose between his wife and his mama... well, he didn't want to have to make that decision. If only he had a damn phone!

"Hmm..." Torelli mused.

"What is it?" Feihn was already tired of the man's medicated Good Samaritan streak.

"Check out this emotion read from when he got the news, Renton... see? It's half what it should be. He's divided about the news. I wonder why?"

"Maybe he was only half done with killing when he was arrested," Feihn offered sarcastically. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth were his own-- they sounded a lot more like Torelli's, from this morning.

Torelli was unfazed. "No, I don't think that's it. Let me check his movement log." Torelli followed the man's GPS signal log from the day. "Okay... truck, truck, truck. Hospital. Walk to room. Room. Room. Room." He moved the cursor more to the right and the computer's time signature zipped forward, while the dot representing the Intern remained in his mother's room... "Wait! He left the room. What for?" He moved the controls some more and listened to the audio file from that moment. "Now that makes perfect sense, Renton... he used a hospital phone to reach his wife! Of course he wants to see her! He was hoping for a little one on one time with her during his visit... but she's not answering his calls. Let's see why."

Renton Feihn was astonished at Torelli's sudden compulsive streak to help the Intern and even more impressed at his apparent personality overhaul-- he became so caring, so quickly that Feihn worried how he would react when he came out of his fog and remembered his actions. Feihn could only sit and watch, fascinated, as Torelli continued to behave out of character.

Torelli lifted the phone number from the man's dialing sequence; he laid it into the complex system's GPS tracking software and the woman's recent route became evident.

"Uh-oh."

"What is it, Torelli?"

"She might have been getting a little something-something. Look. She spends an awful lot of time at this address, the home of a Mr Lance Brown." He traced the address and let out a low whistle. "Get this... Brown is a lawyer, and not just any lawyer. He was Darnell's defense attorney."

Feihn gasped. "Darnell's not going to like that one bit."

"She's there now." Torelli spoke contemptuously. "And she has her cell with her... it's ringing... but she's not answering."

"But can you blame her? She figured she wasn't going to see her husband again for maybe 25 years. Lots of spouses give up when that happens."

"Do you think Darnell will see it that way? Holy crap."

Feihn eyed his friend. "What? What is it?"

"I let a murderer out on the streets, and his wife is sleeping around and doesn't know he's out!" Torelli dropped his head in his hands. "He's gonna kill that guy, and maybe her, too!"

Feihn tried to calm him. "One, he doesn't know where she is. Two, he's been inside for almost two years now-- if the PeeWee method really works, then you have nothing to worry about. Three, it was a PeeWee rule that allowed you to give him an emergency pass, so it's not your problem at all." He thought to himself 'and four-- it was me who issued the pass, not you, you hypnotized golem'.

"We gotta get him back here, and quickly."

"He's coming back on his own, remember? He gets to save his mother's life, be the hero again in her eyes. Do you think he'd pass that up for a little coochie-coo with his indifferent wife?"

Torelli eyes grew round. "Do you think so, Rent? Man, I hope so."

"That's exactly what I think. As a matter of fact, I'm so certain he will that I'm going to prepare a gift for him when he does what he should. How much have you read about the Intern room, Tony? All its features?"

"I did read about one interesting ability, and I think I know where you're going. I'm going to see if I can hack the wife's cell phone."

"I'll get to work on the wall parameters."

Torelli giggled. "If he's a good boy, he won't know what hit him. But what if he's a bad boy?"

Feihn smiled and joked, "The usual. Retrieval. Sleep dart. Extra time. And no Barney Miller for a month."

Mahalia Cook groaned, emerging from a bleary, uncomfortable sleep. Her room was not the same; she could tell even though her eyes were still closed. The familiar grumble of hospital noise had been muffled, indicating the door was shut. There was rattling and movement all around her.

"Darnell? What's going on, boy?"

"Wonderful news, mama... they're sending you to prison."

"Wha...? Darnell, you tell me what's happening, right now!" She opened her eyes; there were nurses milling about her, packing equipment, preparing a gurney.

"Mama, it's like the lottery! After trial I was put into a nasty maximum security prison, watching my butt, scared for my life... but then when I got transferred into this new prison it's been like lap dances and 40 ouncers ever since!"

"Dar-nell!"

"Excuse me, mama. But this new place, I can't explain, it's kinda like a refuge. There's no more fear, no more gangs. Just this doctor lady on a TV screen in my room talking to me half the day, and special two-way television, decent food, a gym and most of all, respect! Now they tell me they have a treatment for you and that's where we're going, mama-- to the Centenarium get you well!"

Mahalia said nothing.

"Mama, are you all right? Did you hear me?"

"They lyin'."

"Mama, why would they lie? They're from that Aden city, the one's supposed to be so fine, nobody's poor or hungry or out of work. I think they're straight up."

"Didn't you hear me, boy? I have cancer. Can-cer. There's no cure! The doctors say I have a month, that's it."

Darnell gazed into her eyes, serious and loving. "Trust me, mama," is all he said.

She stared back, spent with the losing battle for health, and sighed. She found her son's hand, held it and said quietly, her voice quavering slightly, "You've been taking care of me your whole life, boy, even went to prison for it. Now you're taking care of me from prison. Darnell, I am blessed to have you for a son." Her eyes were wet. He whispered into her ear, then kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Okay, Mrs Cook, you are ready to roll," said the nurse. "I'm gonna miss you, ma'am."

"Oh, you too, sugar. You be good to that husband of yours, you hear? He really loves you!"

"I know he does, and thank you. Please get well soon." The nurse left the room, tears brimming.

Orderlies shifted her onto the gurney; she grunted with discomfort. One entered a code and hit the button on her med dispenser; she made an audible 'ahhh' as the painkillers entered her system. They rolled her through the hospital and down to emergency, where the prison truck waited; the gurney clicked into catches on the truck's floor, securing it solidly.

"Okay, we're good to go, Mr Cook." The orderly looked around. "Mr Cook?"

Feihn had been listening through the Intern's earwig; he could hear the preparations made for his mother's journey, heard the heartfelt conversations. Then the sounds disappeared. "Uh, oh... he might be making a run for it!"

Torelli checked the man's GPS signal. "He's not by the truck, but he's not on the move, either, Rent. He's in the hospital, not budging."

"Do you think he removed the earwig and set it down?"

"He's internally tracked too, Rent, and the two signals match. He's still wearing it."

Feihn had an idea. "Check on the wife's location again."

Torelli checked, then smiled. "Good call. Her phone's at the hospital too. Get this... at the same coordinates as him. What do you wanna bet she got his message?"

"That's one insatiable woman. You go, girl... spread the wealth." Feihn was jealous. "Where is this conjugal visit occurring? I hope not at the nurse's station?"

Torelli laughed and overlaid a set of 3-dimensional hospital plans, triangulating the signals. "Well, that figures. He's using his mother's room now that it's empty."

"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. He must be horny as hell to do that." Feihn thought about the situation and added, "You know, those orderlies are going to set off the hospital lockdown alarm if he can't be found, which won't be good for the Centenarium. Better get word to Darnell."

"Right." Torelli reached for a control, then stopped. "How am I supposed to do that? We have a no contact rule, remember?"

"Let me." Feihn entered 'Recommend to Intern 6754302 that he move to transport truck immediately. Alarm imminent' and received a confirmation from the Psychiatrist. "Done."

"Mr Cook? We're ready for transport... sir?" Darnell wasn't with them. The orderly looked at the other and said, "He's a prisoner on day release from the Schuylkill Centenarium... he may be attempting escape!"

The other man said, "Don't call in an alarm yet-- it'll cause a lockdown and may cost us our jobs if you're wrong. Try to find him first. Maybe he's checking his mother's room for personal items."

Mahalia Cook was partially conscious and mumbling. "He... tole me he... he needed the, um, the men's room. He's probally... there." Her head lolled and she sank into sleep.

Darnell had just begun walking behind the men taking his mother to the truck when something snagged his sleeve. He turned, and realized it was actually someone-- his wife was standing behind the screen, a big smile on her face, wearing nothing but a hospital gown! They embraced and leaned against the closed door, kissing.

"I thought you didn't get my calls, baby," he said, loosening his clothing. "I thought I wouldn't get to see you."

"My phone was off. I was at a meeting with my brother and the ADA working on your appeal." Letitia Cook let the flimsy paper smock fall and pushed her husband on the bed. "I got a hunger, Darnell, I hope you're ready."

"How's this feel, baby?"

"Ohh-oh!"

Down the hall the elevator opened up and out strode the orderly, making a brisk pace to the old woman's room. It was a minute to quitting time and he had a date with Suzanne in Obstetrics, and the penalty for showing up late was painful, involving restraints and a leather strop.

The door was closed and he pushed it. It was locked and he tapped. "Mr Cook, are you in there? We need to get your mother to her destination," he called benignly. When there was no answer he rapped again. Then he went to find a custodian with the key.

Darnell's need for intimacy with his wife was evident; she could barely keep from shrieking. Nothing could stop her explosive orgasm, nor his... not even the message in his ear from the Psychiatrist warning him about the impending visit by the irritated orderly. Nonetheless, when the man returned with a key to unlock the door, he was surprised to find the room empty; and more surprised when his partner in the truck radioed that Darnell Cook had already showed up and they were en route to the Centenarium. Silently pleased, he abandoned his search and headed for his encounter with the enthusiastic Obstetrics nurse.

Feihn gazed in awe. "How did you know how do to that, Tony? I was sure Darnell would be discovered, and our prison's reputation sullied!"

Torelli leaned back in his chair. "The PeeWees are ridiculously wired into online US information systems. With the right security codes I could order a missile strike on McDonald's. All I did was find the radio broadcast codes for hospital security and hack into the orderly's radio-- it was a gamble, but I could also tell he was nearing quitting time and was looking for any excuse to leave."

Feihn looked surprised. "How could you tell that?"

"He walked the way I do when I have something fun to do after work. I bet he's getting laid tonight."

"Good eye. So where is Darnell?"

"In the linen closet. Like I said, it was a gamble."

"What about the other orderly... the one waiting with his mother? Isn't he expecting Darnell to show up?"

"Oh, right!" Torelli turned back to his console and typed furiously, and moments later the orderly received a text saying Darnell was signing papers at the nurse's station and would soon be on his way. The man relaxed and said to his sleeping charge, "Your son will be here soon, Mrs Cook." She snored in response.

The hospital room door closed with a bump, and the closet door squeaked open. Two naked and sweaty people emerged, laughing quietly. They dressed and held each other for a long time before Darnell said, "I should be freed in less than a year, Tish... you gonna wait for me?"

Letitia stared at him, jaw dropping. "How... what...? My brother was working to reduce your sentence to twelve years, Darnell... how are you gonna get out in a year?"

"Tell Lance thanks for me, but he doesn't need to. With this deal, I'd be transferred to Aden. To live."

"The Aden? The Perfect World city? Isn't that, like halfway across the country?"

"Uh-huh. But they said I could bring my family."

"Your mama can come, too? Hey, that's great, Darnell. I know you love her."

"Yeah, her... and you too, Tish. I mean, if you wanted to."

She looked dismayed. "Leave my home town? My family and friends, and my job? Oh, Darnell, that's a big change!"

"We could start that family, baby. There's no better place to raise kids, I hear." Darnell took her hands and gazed into her beautiful face. "Think seriously about it, Tish. This is more than just a change of scenery. Its like stepping into a better life."

"Letitia stared at the floor for a long moment, then returned his gaze. "Oh, Darnell," her voice quavered, "Yes. YES! I'll do it! I love you, Big Dawg!"

He pressed her hands to his chest. "You feel that, baby?"

"Do I? Your heart is about to pop outa your body!"

"It's beatin' for you, baby. It can't wait!" He cocked his head and listened. "I gotta go, Tish. My ride... you know. I'll call you soon." He kissed her warmly. "I love you Letitia Brown."

"And I love you, Darnell Cook." And with that, he left.

"Brown? I thought his wife's name was Cook." Torelli seemed surprised.

"It is. That must be her maiden name." A realization dawned on Feihn. "Hey, it's the same last name as Darnell's lawyer."

"Her brother is a lawyer," Torelli said, coming to a similar thought.

"She said she was at a meeting with the ADA and her brother this morning. So unless she's into some very kinky shit..."

"Yeah, I don't think so. Turns out she's straight up. That's good."

"Say, what's gotten into you?" Feihn pried. "I've never seen you so motivated. Plus, you haven't grumbled all afternoon-- that musta been some great spoogatch you had for lunch."

"Calzone," Torelli corrected. "And I don't even know what spoogatch is. But I feel good today... for the first time in a long time. Happy. Like a weight's gone, you know?"

"That's good, Tony." Feihn liked him better, too. He didn't even mind that the guy was a hypnotized zombie. "Hey... truck's back from the hospital!"

"Direct it to critical care." Torelli sent Mahalia Cook's chart to the medical ward. "Leave Darnell there until the medicians send him back. Mahalia might want to see a familiar face around all that machinery."

"Sounds good. He's been cooperative... for the most part."

Later back in his room, Darnell began to sob quietly. This had been some day, and after two years of confinement it was almost too much excitement. But there was joy in those tears, and a wellspring of hope. He, or divine intervention, had saved his mother who would have become dead in days had this day not turned out like it had. He reaffirmed his love for Tish, which was worth the trip alone. He proved himself trustworthy to the Psychiatrist, who kept him out of trouble during his unplanned (albeit short) conjugal visit. And best of all, a release date all but guaranteed, and into the finest city on Earth no less!

Darnell sobbed tears of exhaustion, and he wept from happiness... but his tears ran from guilt, too. How could he come to deserve this good fortune? He was a murderer who took his own father's life, abandoning his wife and home in the process-- why should he be showered with such miraculous providence?

A loud moan came from deep within him, burst out and echoed in the small room and he shouted, "Why me?!"

The wall-sized computer screen became the Psychiatrist's inner office. She was sitting at her desk, but stood up and walked towards him most realistically. Deep compassion showed on her face as she spoke. "Darnell Cook, I will answer that for you. You, because you kept your word and returned to us under a very tempting situation. You, because you love your mother very much and did what you had to do to keep her safe. You, because although the laws of your state cannot see the distinction, the laws of Aden can and understands that the sacrifice you made was unselfish in nature. And finally, you because we have discovered that you have a talent which will serve us all very well in Aden and is why we want you to live with us."

"I'm excited to use the talents you uncovered in me during my stay. I studied architectural design, and I wanna build a bridge with these new nanomaterials you have, to span between distant mountain peaks."

"A worthy goal, and certainly one of your finer abilities, but that is not what I'm talking about."

"My art, then? I can sculpt."

"Also valuable, but it wasn't something you learned here."

"What, then?"

"Perhaps it would be best if I just showed you." The scene changed, and Darnell immediately realized that there had been cameras in his mother's hospital room, and he was observing scenes from the moments of warmth with his wife. Several of them, according to the angles he witnessed. "There... right there. Let me back it up and show it again."

He watched a close-up of him at his most intimate, and the corresponding reaction of his wife. "Oh," he said.

"I hope you don't mind. We find that video information is the most accurate."

"It's a little jarring. Is my butt really that bony?"

"Your butt is fine, Darnell. You don't mind that I'm asking?"

"No, it's okay. I just didn't know I was alone in using this technique."

The Psychiatrist said, "In all of my databases across the globe, in all of recorded history back to cave drawings and cuneiform, it has never before been described or pictured. "

"Never? Really? I'm blown away!"

"Does it have a name?"

Sheepishly he responded, "Well, I call it the Fallopian Flutter."

The Psychiatrist swallowed. "Now that's a pretty accurate visual! How long can you keep that up?"

"As long as it takes. Sometimes four or five times as long as it takes." He thought he heard the Psychiatrist make a little trilling noise, as she wobbily sat down behind her desk. "Are you all right?"

"I will be. My boyfriend's getting some notes tonight."

In the guard room, Feihn and Torelli watched the screen, slack jawed, turned to each other and in unison said, "Did you see that?"And then, "I did! Did you?"

Feihn yelled, "Oh... My... Good... GOD!"

Torelli shouted, "That man is a saint!" His eyes widened, then shone. "Oh, man, Rent... my girlfriend is gonna buy me a Maserati for sure!"

Feihn looked back at the computer. "Show's not over, Tony."

The Psychiatrist stood up and leaned over towards Darnell. "You haven't experienced one piece of Aden technology yet. Stand to the right of the viewscreen, please, about a foot from the wall."

Darnell moved over, and when he did the Softsteel wall began to change slowly; pushing into the room in places, dropping deep in others, developing a rounded soft shape which was becoming more and more reminiscent of...

"Is that a naked woman in the wall?" And as he said it, the shape, looking very much as though a real woman were on the other side of a silk wall, pushing and straining herself against it until every detail was fully, breathlessly outlined, stretched out its arms and gently pulled him inwards.

"Actually, it is... only not on the other side, but actually miles away."

The touch on Darnell's skin was firm and not unpleasant, and also somehow familiar. It began to remove his garments.

"This is a Mnemonic Wall. It mimics the movements made on another wall."

"That's great... but can you make it stop? It's a little creepy."

The Psychiatrist smiled. "Not as creepy as you think. Whom do you think is on the other side?"

Darnell looked more closely at the womanly form. Recognition, and a smile, crept onto his face. "Excuse me, miss Psychiatrist?"

"Yes, Darnell?"

"Could my wife and I have a little privacy, please?"

Renton Feign laughed at the delightful conclusion on the screen. 'Darnell Cook's outcome was a real inspiration,' he typed into D Prime's commentary box. 'Now, what's gonna happen with my guard buddy Tony Torelli?'

'When he snaps out of it he will remember the events of the day, and will remember his feelings of calm surrounding them. But he will be the same Tony as before. Over time these treatments continue, which put warm memories to situations he had formerly considered uncomfortable or wrong in his mind. At some point, the warm feelings become the primary ones and you will notice a change slowly occur into the happy Tony you've observed since lunch.'

'On that subject... where's my mostaciolli? I missed lunch today.'

'That's funny, Renton.'

'Thanks, D. So, how does Tony get out of his hypnotic state?'

'I just mention the keyword. When he hears the word 'Rentonology', he will shift back to his waking state from this morning.'

"Rentonology?" Feihn said aloud, and, realizing his error typed 'Rentonology?'

'His own word. He calls it the study of all things Renton. Umm... did I just hear you say it aloud?'

"Hey Feihn, check this out! That prisoner is fucking a metal wall! What a douche!"

Shuddering, Feihn put his head in his hands. "Yes."

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman