51 Sleepless Nights

by Tobias Wade

  I was five years into my sentence before one of the guards took my moods personally, landing me in the hole. It was only supposed to be for a week, but everything I did seemed to extend the time. Unresponsive to the officer? Add a week. Didn’t eat the food? Add a week and get my next meal replaced with “the loaf” (rotten cabbage and bread). Didn’t eat the loaf? Another week, and no other food until I choked it down. Even after I vomited it back up, they wouldn’t give me more food until I’d eaten my sick just to teach me a lesson.

  I don’t know what that lesson was, but the only thing I learned was to hate the hole. Having nothing to do is boring, but knowing it will continue without cessation is despair. I was never a social person, but I found myself so starved for human contact that I even tried hugging the guard. It was like I needed someone to touch me just to prove I was still real, but nothing relieved the relentless pressure of the second-by-second attack on the soul which was isolation.

  I knew I was really losing it when a fly found its way into my room. I named it Ribazzzio and talked to it just to hear something besides the droning of florescent lights and the distant shouts from other cell blocks. I told Ribazzzio about the girl I liked in high-school, and how beautiful the sly wrinkle at the edge of her smile was. I described to him what a sunrise looked like, and the taste of chocolate cake, and about the drawings I used to sketch, and a thousand other things which I hadn’t appreciated at the time. I didn’t tell the fly that I never expected to see them again; I didn’t want to make him sad and leave. It didn’t matter though, because the next time I woke, he was gone anyway. I’m not ashamed that I cried to be alone again, in fact I was relieved. It meant there was still part of me which was human enough to feel.

  “Pssst. Hey buddy.”

  I opened my eyes. I wasn’t sleeping – I was just lying on my back, preferring my malleable imagination to the stagnant cell. The voice had come from behind me.

  “Can you hear me? What’s your name?” the voice asked.

  Someone else must have heard me talking to the fly. I turned around and found a crack in the mortar behind my bed. It must have connected with another cell in the Housing Detention block.

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Of course it does. It’s the most important thing in the world. It’s the thing they can’t take from you. My name’s Riley.”

  “Hi Riley. I’m Travis,” I replied.

  “Have you been recruited yet, Travis?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. I glanced back at the closed door of my cell. Even if someone heard me, they’d probably just think I was talking to myself again. It’s not like they checked on us very often.

  “Okay good,” Riley said. “They’re going to offer you a deal soon. You have to take it – trust me.”

  “What deal? Why would I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

  “Sure you do buddy,” he said. “I’m your only friend in the world.”

  I heard metal scrape on metal. My door opened. I threw the pillow over the crack in the mortar and sat ridgedly upright.

  I was reluctant to leave my new friend, but I don’t think the guard noticed. My muscles were stiff from the cramped quarters, but I didn’t even run around much. All I could think about was how great it would be to have someone to talk to now. And the deal? It couldn’t have been that special if he was still in prison, but it was something to think about. Something to look forward to. Maybe they’d even given him books or a notepad. A laptop or TV would be almost as good as getting out.

  Riley never answered again though. For two days I tapped on the wall, but all I heard was ceaseless muttering. An old man swearing under his breath kind of muttering, like he was trying to talk but couldn’t decide whether he was talking to himself or someone else. All hours of the day and night – non-stop muttering. I don’t even remember him pausing to eat, let alone draw breath.

  Most of it was inaudible gibberish, but there were a few things I finally made out after they were repeated for the thousandth time.

  “Didn’t expect to see him again. No sir-ee-no.”

  “Just pretend to be human for me, will you? We can both pretend.”

  “I’m Riley. You’re Riley too, but I was Riley first.”

  I lost track of how long I was supposed to stay in here, but I’m sure I should have been out of solitary a long time ago. By the time they came to offer me the deal, I was completely convinced that accepting it was the only way to ever get out.

  “It’s very simple, we have nothing to hide,” the prison warden told me. He looked like the type of man who would force his children to only speak when spoken to, and even then only if they addressed him as ‘sir’.

  “We could easily force you to accept,” the warden continued, “after all, you are in my power. I choose when you sleep, when you eat – if you eat – but I am still making this a completely voluntary arrangement.”

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  “Prison overcrowding is a serious issue,” the warden said. It felt like he was reading from a pre-prepared script. He was looking at me, but I wasn’t really being seen. “The prison system has grown 700% over the last generation. It’s costing us up to 40 grand per inmate every year – 74 billion annually nationwide. The government is actively exploring alternative programs which can satisfy the need to deter and rehabilitate criminals without the prohibitive expense and opportunity cost of prison. I’m offering you the chance to volunteer in one of these programs.”

  “You’re going to take me out of prison? Then how come Riley stayed in here?”

  The Warden’s face screwed up like he’d just taken a bite from a lemon. “Riley is gone. He’s been gone for a while now.”

  There was something about how he emphasized the name which made it seem like Riley hadn’t changed locations. He’d changed from being Riley. The warden was already talking again though, and there wasn’t any space to ask questions.

  “I can’t disclose all the details with you, but rest assured your sentence will be considerably abbreviated. Our programs are designed for maximal efficiency, and fifteen years of wasted time and money are going to be condensed into a weekend.”

  I didn’t care about the time. What did I have to look forward to on the outside? It might seem inconsequential to you, but the only reason I accepted his offer was that I missed having someone to talk to. And if this was a government project, then what was the worst they could do? Maybe I really could get a clean start.

  The warden gave me some papers to sign and then left. I was handcuffed by the guard and escorted out of my cell. He tried to keep my head low, but I caught a glimpse of the adjoining cell where Riley must have stayed. A man in a rubber suit was pressure washing blood out of the stone tiles.

  “What happened to that guy?” I asked the guard. “Is he hurt?”

  The guard shifted uneasily and looked around like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say or not. Then he shrugged.

  “What was he still doing in there?” I pressed. “I thought Riley made the same deal.”

  “Yeah he finished his deal,” the guard said. “He was supposed to be released in a few more days after the official pardon was granted, but I donno. Guess he wanted a quicker way out.”

  The man in a rubber suit picked up a fork on the floor. It was covered in congealed blood all the way up the handle. I tried to get a better look, but the guard shoved me onward. I was put into the back of an unmarked police car. Somehow I’d expected a whole bus load of people, but it was only me. In a few days I’d be a free man. It hardly seemed possible. How was I supposed to pick up the pieces and become something new? Anyway it sounded like Riley really was going to be released, if he hadn’t… well I wasn’t as fragile as him. I could survive anything for a weekend.

  I wasn’t paying much attention to where we were going, but we drove for a long while before the car stopped at a ranch deep in the desert. The
re weren’t any pens for animals, just wide open spaces separated by low stone barriers which I could have easily stepped over. I guess they didn’t worry much about escape when there was nowhere to escape to.

  “Welcome to camp Rawhide,” I was greeted by a man wearing a leather vest and denim pants who stood outside the ranch house. The officer un-cuffed my hands, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “Ten years left on your sentence, all over in two days. Seems like a pretty good deal to me, eh? But don’t you worry, you won’t miss out on anything,” the man continued. His voice was muffled from speaking around the cigar in his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave my face – mine didn’t leave his. “It’s my job to make sure you still get 10 years’ worth of punishment this weekend.”

  I heard the sound of tires roaring over dry earth. I hadn’t even noticed the officer had gone, but it was too late now. I couldn’t look away from the man in front of me. The man I killed.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Edward grinned. He took a step closer to me and took the cigar out of his mouth.

  “Same thing as you, darling. I’m just trying to find some justice in this shit-stain world. But between you and me, I don’t know if there really is any justice out there. I reckon there are just people who got what they deserved, and people who got lucky.”

  Another step closer. I could feel the heat radiating from the end of his cigar as it brushed my hand. He was exactly the same as that insufferable creature I used to live next to. His words blew onto my face alongside his rancid breath.

  “And by the time I’m through with you, there won’t be any doubt. You weren’t one of the lucky ones.”

  A Letter from the Cold Case Files

  I work at a police station, first in my precinct to be equipped with the latest video spectral comparator. The device is absolutely amazing for reconstructing obscured writing, and we’ve already used it to blow open three cases by deciphering evidence which had been almost completely obliterated.

  Incriminating letter?

  Receipt putting you at the crime scene?

  Well what looks to you like a harmless pile of ashes in the waste bin can now be all we need to close the case.

  The downside? I’ve had to take a huge-ass folder of paperwork home with me on the weekends since it’s been installed. The inspector in charge wants us to skim every cold case in the entire precinct for areas where the new technology might be applicable. Boredom doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I did come across an interesting letter which we’ve managed to repair from its severe water damage. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

  To my lovely wife, Dear Eva:

  Never has the fear of the hunted been so evident as it was with you. I could not stand to see you this agitated, the slightest creak in our house causing such violent tribulations. You could barely drink a cup of tea without being drenched by your trembling hands. At night, I heard you moan with the bitterest lamentations, and nothing I said seemed to provide you with the least respite.

  “I can’t escape.” I heard the things you muttered to yourself when you didn’t think I was listening. “He’s going to find me and take me away. Not today – please not today – but soon. I can’t escape.”

  I think I even know who you were referring to. I caught him more than once, sitting in his car across the street. Watching our house through his tinted windows. That cold, professional man, the one with the eyes of a killer. I sought answers from him, but upon seeing my approach, he shuddered like he’d been possessed and drove off before I could utter a word.

  Eva, sweet Eva, nothing in this life could make you deserve such torment. The curtains never part to let the light in anymore, and you must suffer terribly if you are so loathe to reveal yourself that you prefer candles to electricity. How long has it been since you even left the house? And no, I don’t count ordering food online, then waiting until dark to sneak out and snatch it like a quivering mouse.

  I was afraid that even these precautions might not be enough to save you, until the night when I finally witnessed your resolve. You fixed your hair and makeup, although you are just as beautiful without, and dressed warmly against the midnight chill. I understand now why you didn’t tell me where you were going, as intent as you were upon your grizzly mission.

  I do not mind that you are self-absorbed, my dear. It only makes me more grateful for the attention I do receive. No matter how hard you try to exclude me though, I will always be there to protect you. It is one thing to face your fear, but how could you think I would let you do it alone?

  The hour we drove together on the highway was the closest I have felt to you in a long time, and when you pulled off on the side to wait, it seemed as though we were the last two people on Earth. I didn’t notice the shovel in back until you got out of the car, finally satisfied that our pursuer lost the trail. That’s when I was convinced that I mistook the greatest moment of your resistance for the epitome of your despair. You weren’t here to fight your pursuer, or even run from him. You had come to dig your own grave.

  I swore to love you, but that is no obligation to a woman of your beauty. I swore to serve you, but how could I act as usher to your final rest? “Please,” I begged, “tell me what would drive you to such an end?”

  Do you remember how you flinched at my words? But the cold defiance in your eye made me somehow believe you had not given up yet.

  Were you afraid I would be angry at what you’ve done?

  Eva, blameless Eva. I could never be angry at you.

  That I would try to stop you, or get in your way?

  Never! I will only ever move to your desire, my love.

  And with the opening of the trunk, I finally understood you. I felt nothing but relief when we carried the body out together, burying it there in the desert far from the prying eyes of petty men who do not understand the burden of love. If that is what needed be done to make you happy again, then I would have had it no other way.

  I still do not know why the man hunted you, but it is not my place to force unpleasant memories and spoil your mind. I am writing this to let you know that nothing that happened will ever change how I feel about you. That I understand what you did, even admire you for going through with it. Eva, shining Eva, please do not let this be a barrier between us. Speak to me, welcome me as you once did, and I swear I will shelter you. I can forgive all evils in this world except the one that takes you away from me.

  Forever yours, -Ivan

  There you have it. As clean and incriminating an indictment as you’ll ever find in writing. Of course I felt sorry for Eva after being stalked, but disregarding the due process of law and killing the man, well we couldn’t exactly give her a free pass. I was so excited bringing this to the inspector in charge, and so disappointed when he disregarded it as irrelevant.

  Obvious fabrication, he told me. Eva hadn’t been stalked; she’d been investigated by the police. She was a suspect because she stood to gain a considerable amount of wealth after her husband Ivan’s disappearance, although the case was eventually dropped without finding his body or sufficient evidence. The fact that a letter so stained with tears as to be almost unreadable was reconstructed didn’t prove anything, except maybe the confused mind of a grieving widow.

  I may have let my excitement rush me to conclusions, but seeing that the husband was the one who was murdered, the inspector must be right to think it was impossible for him to be the author. Besides, how could Ivan help her bury his own body?

  The Organic Machine

  3D printing is the future, and the future is here.

  We are on the verge of another industrial revolution, and I’m incredibly excited to be a part of it. I’m a photogrammetry software designer, and I’ve spent the last four years working with fashion and clothing companies. I even worked at Nike for a while – they’re already beginning to 3D print shoes.

  I recently had the opportunity t
o apply my skills to a medical laboratory where they’re beginning to 3D print human tissue. It’s an ingenious concept – suspending living cells in a smart gel which allows the cells to fuse together into tissue once they’re in alignment. The smart gel is then washed away, leaving an organ of purely human tissue.

  “We’re the first company to replicate organic vascular structures,” Doctor Hansaf claimed on my first day there. He led me through the sterile halls which droned with dull florescent lighting. “The organs we print can diffuse oxygen and nutrients even more efficiently than those in your body.”

  Several other lab technicians passed me in the hall. I smiled, but each averted their gaze immediately, finding a sudden fascination with the blank floor tiles.

  “It sounds like you know what you’re doing. What do you need me for?” I asked.

  “Our scaffolding needs to be remodeled. One of our organs seems to be leaking, and we can’t figure out why.”

  “Which one?” He didn’t need to answer though. As soon as Doctor Hansaf opened the door at the end of the hallway, I saw the most macabre sight I could have imagined. A steel table was lined with row upon row of human eyeballs, each staring at me from their great, unblinking orbs.

  Leaking might be an accurate term, but they would be better described as crying. The saline liquid filled each eye to overflowing before draining into a multitude of tiny pools upon the table.

  “Quite beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, and I jumped a little to realize how close he was behind me. “Almost perfect – almost better than perfect. This design can see 3 times sharper than a human with 20/20 vision. It can even see beyond the traditional visual electromagnetic spectrum, perceiving some of the near ultra violet spectrum as well. ”

  Beautiful isn’t the first word I would have chosen, but I could understand his pride. They looked real enough that you wouldn’t look twice if a pair of these was staring back at you from a human face.