The Powers that Be

The following day, at least Jack presumed it was, but without any natural daylight or means of time keeping, it could still have been the middle of the night for all he knew, each of the men was placed in restraints and escorted out of the living unit and into a room that resembled a classroom type setting, with a dozen desks bolted to the ground, each desk equipped with a fixed metal chain that was connected to their handcuffs. Walking to the room, Jack noticed the floor was painted with different colored lines leading out of the living unit to various rooms in the access corridor, like the floor of a hospital guiding traffic.

At the front of the room was a larger desk. The sounds of heels clicking off the floor echoing down the corridor preceded the arrival of a fairly tall woman dressed in a dark blue business suit, white blouse, and navy skirt, blonde hair done up onto of her head, slender framed glasses on a symmetrical pretty face. She held what appeared to be a cell phone in her left hand. Early thirties maybe and absolutely stunning. Moving in front of the desk at the fore of the room, she looked at each man in turn, making sure to engage each with her cerulean blue eyes, before gazing to the next.

Russell put his lips together and whistled.

Ignoring him, she said, ““My name is Director Dagmara Slinden and make no mistake I am in charge,” voice firm and brooking no argument.

“Why don’t you wrap those pretty lips around my dick and get in charge of sucking my cock,” Cornelius invited, laughing out loud and looking to the others for support.

The director held him in her icy blue stare a moment, a look of annoyance on her face. Looking down at the device in her left hand, she tapped at with her right index finger and suddenly, Cornelius started jerking violently in his seat, veins distending in his neck as he clenched his teeth together so hard they might crack. She looked on impassively for several seconds as he thrashed against the restraints before she once again tapped the device in her hand. Eyes rolling back into his head so only the whites were visible, Cornelius flopped forward onto his desk, a thin trail of spittle drooling from his mouth.

“Madre Dios!” exclaimed Hector.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” advised Maynard White in his arrogant self-entitled way.

Looking at him she tilted her head to the side. “I can do whatever I choose Dr. White, wait,” she paused and smiled, “My mistake, they stripped you of that title, now,” her face grew somber, “It’s just convict White.”

“Bitch, what the fuck?” Marcellus growled.

“I realize most of you are intellectually challenged and unaccustomed to adult conversation, but please let us employ a modicum of civility here and refrain from using profanity,” she instructed, holding up the device in her left hand for all to see before delivering a jolt to the powerfully built black man.

After a moment, she released him from the current. Atop his thick neck, his head rolled from side to side and his eyes blinked independent of each other before he gurgled and slumped forward.

“There are only a small handful of rules here, fundamental truths really, with which you will all need to come to terms with. First, you are nothing, cast offs, the dregs of society. You have no rights, no recourse to the law. You are now the property of Lindholm Global.  Second, I am god here, my word is law and my will absolute.”

“Fuck you and fuck Lindholm Global,” snarled Hodge, tugging at the stainless steel chain linking his manacles to the desk.

Her blue eyes narrowed and her full mouth pursed as she stared at him. “I was of the understanding that even the most predatory of animals possess some measure of cunning and I would have thought after seeing the effects of the collar twice now, you would have learned the price of insolence,” she chastised, activating his collar.

Leaning her bottom against the desk, she held out the device, “Anyone else?” she inquired as Hodge bucked noisily against his restraints.

The remaining men remained quiet. She nodded and proceeded to examine her fingernails a few moments, before turning off Hodge’s collar.

“Now where were we?” she asked rhetorically. “Right, you are chattel and I am god. My staff are an extension of my will and failure to abide by their instruction or behave in an acceptable manner will result in disciplinarian action. Are there any questions?”

“Isn’t this against the Geneva Convention or something, you know like a human rights violation?” Russell asked.

She smiled, as if humoring a child, “You have obviously forgotten rule one, the one where you are nothing and have no rights. Beside Dunant’s original proposition for the convention was based on ethical treatment of prisoners and non-combatants during wartime. Any others?” she asked, sweeping her gaze across the faces of the men.

“Sure, what are we doing here?” Jack asked, meeting her gaze with his good eye.

“You are all part of a pilot project aimed at alleviating the social cost of crime,” she replied. “You see, the financial burden each one of you places on society is steadily growing and people in general are fed up, especially with an incorrigible lot like you who will never be returned to society as productive contributors. You are takers, parasites, leeching off decent people.”

“What’s the project?” he asked.

A smile reappeared on her lovely face. “That you will come to understand in time. Let us just say for now we have moved into the human trial phase and depending on our results here, it may change the future of the criminal justice system,” she said.

Jack bit his tongue, knowing there was absolutely no value smarting off to this ballbuster.

“What now?” John Smith inquired.

“Your basic needs will be met, and you may enjoy some additional freedoms within your living unit depending on your behavior. The jewelry,” she made a motion with her right hand and touched her neck, “Allows me to know where you are at all times and it monitors a number of your vital signs. Any attempt to remove it will result in the detonation of a small explosive charge built into the device but capable of separating your head from your shoulders. Any other questions?”

“If we comply, we will be returned to our parent institutions?” Maynard asked casually, growing bored.

She chuckled, “There is no going back. Your cooperation will yield enhanced privileges, but this is where you will live out the balance of your life. For those with sufficient education to understand, Lasciate onge speranza, voi ch’intrate,” she said, half smile dancing across her lips.

Several heads turned to look at Maynard, who simply turned his nose up as if answering were somehow beneath him.

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,” provided John Smith, “Dante’s Inferno, Canto III, line 9.”

The Director inclined her head, “Very good Mr. Smith,” she said. “Now, when you are returned to the living quarters, you will be permitted access to the common room. There you will find some amusements, playing cards and such. I understand that some of you may possess a certain amount of antipathy toward one another. I strongly caution you against engaging in any form of violent activity. As I mentioned before, the collar will alert us to any anomalies in your vitals.”

Marcellus appeared to be growing more cognizant and several of the men exchanged glances.

Dagmara looked around the room, nodding to herself, then she left the room.