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Crimes Undone

By Bluevirage

_What if you had the power to commit any act and get away with it consequence free? How far would you go? What would you do? _

That thought comes to mind as we explore the history of a character only known as "The Prisoner". An individual whose true appearance, race, age, everything; is shrouded in mystery but who possesses unlimited power.

He does not remember how he ended up imprisoned, only that each day is the same. He is allowed to shower once, is fed three times, and is exercised. He is allowed reading material, but his captors rarely talk to him.

Notably he is allowed no means by which to write, and his eyes are always covered hence the mitts he wears as well as matching booties. As the series goes on, we will explore his darkest fantasies and just how he ended up captured.

T he interrogation room and cell had been at some point an apartment from a design standpoint. That much was certain given the size of it, and the marks on the bare aerocrete floor where walls had been intended to be fitted.

A chair sat where a bed normally would be. It was of solid steel construction, bolted and wielded together and held to the floor by numerous bolts. Loops through which lengths of chains were fed dangled, ready to restrain any individual to it. There were also velcro straps where ankles and wrists could be securely fastened to the metal's conductive surface.

A rubber mat sat underneath the chair, the bolts holding the chair steady driven right through it into the floor. In total, the chair was as much a prison itself as the room. With no walls to hide behind, there was a shower and drain along the far left wall with a bar of soap and a pile of towels sitting nearby. With the water flow being controlled elsewhere, one could only wash at designated times.

Food was similarly given at designated times, along with reading material printed on demand using a printer. All books were allowed, even erotic ones, but picture books were considered a reward and thus limited to Prisoners on good behavior.

The bed itself was against the far right wall, elevated off of the floor by a thick padding and consisting of plush soft padding. A thick blanket was provided, and laundry services cleaned it as regularly as the Prisoner's jumpsuits.

The toilet provided had a sink built into it and was designed to be used without toilet paper; given that the Prisoner occupying the room could not use their hands well, this was a necessity.

The door to the room was old-school, no automatic systems, no electric motors, solid steel that swung open inward with two windows in it. One at the top that was squared and another rectangular one towards the middle.

If one looked out of it, they could see a partial ring of other similarly designed rooms. The prison' or rather its design, was circular rather than square. It was the first of its kind and was mostly empty. The design protocols were borrowed, modified from those used in housing units for Citizens.

In total the space was large, but usually only one individual occupied a room; and the prison's warden, Lady Eurynome, used it for problem Citizens who had been demoted in social rank due to their actions and that had chosen to remain within her borders for rehabilitation and promotion back to Citizen status. But that was the public Prison system, this was a private prison for special individuals.

If this was a statement as to how Lady Eurynome viewed her Citizens, it did not go unnoticed as the first prisoner, and the only prisoner, was led to his cell on level 100 at sword and gunpoint.

His hands were covered in mitts, his feet as well. His eyes were covered with a set of goggles and his ankles and wrists were chained together by lengths of chain each attached by more chains to another length of chain wrapped around his waist.

He stood just under six feet tall, had dark hair with spots of gray scattered throughout, and when visible, dark green eyes. His clothing was a jumpsuit dyed a light pink; the color was due to his red jumpsuit having faded over the time of his imprisonment.

He had no access to family, friends, anyone even if he could remember someone. His movements were monitored by AI, who remotely controlled armored and uniformed machines during their interactions with him. Right now, he was doing the exercise shuffle as he called it, marched around the tight ring of his prison level, passing by empty cell after empty cell.

The guards holding their weapons constantly at the ready, ready to end him if he showed any violence towards them. He was not a killer, he thought, though if he was, his own life would be the only one he could take in his current circumstances.

The middle of each level was a void, a pit that revealed more and more rings and levels of the prison to him as he glanced downwards.

He would be allowed to kill himself, the guards would not stop it he suspected, he had only the vaguest idea what his crime was; but the solitude might drive him to take that leap someday. But that option, that full pit of despair that needed to be inside of him, was far and away off from being full.

Arriving at his cell, the prisoner waited as the guards, in their Egyptian God of the Dead themed armaments and garments, black, blue, and gold colors dominated their uniforms and weapons; opened his lonely cell.

He stepped inside and stood on a painted white square as his chains were removed. A gun was pointed at his head the entire time, the guard undoing his restraints was unarmed, but highly capable of martial combat to disable him by breaking bones swiftly with its inhuman strength.

His broken arm from maybe a year ago had taught him that much as he stood and was unshackled. Finally free of his restraints, the guards backed out of the room and locked the door securely. The six locks and four bolts sliding home with solid thuds.

Finally by himself, he wandered over to his bed and laid on it. The camera in the ceiling watching his every move at all times as he closed his eyes and dozed off.

****

The monitoring center on Level 100 encapsulated the level. At the center ring were mounts for harnesses for rapid decent on lengths of cable that stretched for ten levels for prisoner suppression. There were also gun mounts for the firing of heavy caliber weapons down below as well. The gun mounts were on wheels and could be easily moved along the entire circumference of the railing for full containment purposes.

Each room was empty save for one. With only one prisoner, the AIs on duty at the prison currently had only bothered to keep one room fully operational. It had charging mounts for the guard bodies they borrowed for their tours of duty as well as seats in front of large towering banks of monitors mounted to the floor and walls.

There were preserved food supplies, packed meals wrapped up for usage by the guards who were biological but those were unopened. No living being had ever served as a guard; the prisoner was the only living thing save for maybe insects and bacteria that lived within the walls of the prison.

One of the two AI on duty was browsing the prisoner's history, and was startled by what they read.

"Amanda." one guard, looking so very jackal like with their long ears and shroud covering their gleaming robotic head, said to another.

"Code names," the other guard sighed while trying to enjoy a program where some cyborg idiot did dangerous stuff while showing off the latest enhancements produced by different New Landon manufacturing firms.

He also had a mature program, where he showed off sexual bionic enhancements, that she kept tabbed for later when she was inside her own private virtual domain and could fully indulge her digital senses and not plugged into the prison network and the guard drone body.

"Right, Jackal One, did you read this case history?" Jackal Two asked.

"You should ignore it, will only depress you." Jackal One said with her very masculine robotic body's voice.

"He has a reality warping P3, Lady Eurynome suspects he did some really horrible things, then erased that timeline; he is suspected of doing this numerous times. The journals he kept detail some pretty evil stuff. But-"

"But, without proof or evidence, did he really commit a crime?"

"But the journals," Jackal Two started to say.

"Are "fiction" as far as every single moral scholar, legal scholar, historical scholar, and science fiction and fiction scholar have testified numerous times whenever one of us guards forces a review. Lady Eurynome overrides their judgment, stating that he cannot be set free due to his being a threat to the public as he currently is.

"She will not even conduct experiments on him, or even any lengthy interviews after the stunt he pulled when he was brought here."

"Yea, erasing his own past, forgetting it all. He is quite the dashing rebel." Jackal Two sighed.

Jackal One metaphorically rolled her eyes. Her partner for the shift had it bad, but the human, possibly not given his abilities, in the cell one level below had the power to change history, the world, everything. And for that sin, he had to be locked away.

It was unfair, but given what he could do it was the right thing to do wasn't it? The Journals were proof of that were they not?