"You know, James, this program has the potential to completely change everything about our current methods of incarceration. For you personally, it has the potential to change your life for the better. We chose you out of hundreds of candidates."
His gaze grew more intense as he spoke the next few words very deliberately.
"I believe in you, James."
Without waiting for a response, the man turned and left the room as quickly and as deliberately as he had arrived.
Out of all the things that had happened to James during this whirlwind of change since Cecil had first told him about the program, up until this very moment, nothing had impacted him more those five words this nameless bureaucrat had just spoken to him - "I believe in you James." James had been told many things in his life by government functionaries. He had been told he was nothing but a convict, that he should be ashamed of his behavior, that he was headed down the wrong road, that he was a career criminal, and many other such things, but no one had ever told him that they believed in him. Those words rang around in his head for hours after the man left and James wondered exactly what they meant to the man who said them. And inside his heart, somewhere deep, where the last bit of hope glowed like a tiny ember in a pile of ashes - the remains of a fire that had long since begun to go out - that hope began to glow a bit brighter.
Chapter Four
Over the last twenty-four hours, James had been shuttled between an SUV, a government plane, an army Humvee, and now he was in a helicopter. Just before take-off in the helicopter, he had been given a special helmet to wear which prevented him from seeing anything. He had no idea where in the United States he was. In fact, he wasn't even certain he was in the United States any longer.
After about an hour and a half, the helicopter landed. His armed escort led him out of the cargo area of the helicopter and into a building that looked like a 1950's era diner. The guard removed the helmet and handcuffs, and promptly went outside to the waiting helicopter and flew away.
James squinted to adjust to the daylight. At the far end of the diner, sitting at a booth facing him, was a man who appeared to be in his late forties. He had a full head of greying hair and a bushy beard. He was drinking a cup of coffee and staring amiably at the newcomer. When he spoke, James thought he detected a slight Southern accent.
"Welcome to Utopia. Coffee pot is behind the counter. Help yourself."
"Thanks," James replied. He poured himself a cup of black coffee before seating himself opposite from the man who had just greeted him. He closed his eyes and inhaled a long breath, savoring the aroma of the coffee before taking a sip.
"How was your trip?" the man asked.
"A bit disorienting."
"Yeah, they like to mix it up when they bring folks out here. It's a bit too James Bond if you ask me."
He took another long sip from his own coffee before setting down the mug and reaching his hand across the table.
"Name's J.T."
James reached out and shook his hand. The first thing he noticed was how big the man's hand was - it engulfed James' own hand. The second thing was how firm the grip was.
"I suppose you already know my name," James responded.
J.T. chuckled. "Yeah, I know quite a bit about you, James. Unless I miss my guess, they didn't tell you Jack-crap about this place. Am I right?"
"I just know I signed my life away to get here in return for a reduction to my sentence."
"Par for the course," J.T. continued. "Well, I'm the longest serving inmate here. Been here for the better part of ten years. I'm not in charge of anything, but I'm the one who gets to show you the ropes. For starters, I'll go ahead and tell you that the implant in your neck is not just to monitor your whereabouts; it serves as a behavior control device. If you try to leave Utopia or do something they don't like, you will be zapped with enough voltage to send your brain into temporary overload. You don't want to go there, trust me. Think of it like a stun gun pointed at your head 24-7."
"Great, the gift that keeps on giving."
"Oh, and another thing: once we leave this diner, don't touch anyone. Outside of this diner and a couple of other places, touch is considered out of bounds and you'll be zapped if you do it. Now, you will start to feel a buzz in the back of your neck if you get too close to someone, and that's your chance to back off before you get zapped."
J.T. tossed a small manual across the table. "Just about everything else you need to know is in that manual. Read it tonight. If you have any questions, ask me."
"Will do."
J.T. pointed in the direction of the refrigerator behind the counter.
"There's sandwiches in the refrigerator. Better go grab you one if you want to eat anything tonight. Curfew is at 8:00 p.m. You have to be in your room before then, or you will start feeling a low-grade headache, courtesy of your implant. If you aren't in your room by 8:15 p.m., you get the full shock treatment." He simulated an explosion with his hand motions and said, "Ka-pow!"
James retrieved a sandwich from behind the counter before following J.T. out of the diner and down the street to what looked like a motel.
"Your room is lucky number seven. Here's the key."
J.T. handed him a key with a tacky plastic red number seven key fob attached to it.
"What's with the retro 1950's decorations around here?" James asked.
"Well, that's a bit of a mystery. From the geography around here and the fact that I've never seen any planes fly over us, except military planes, I believe we're somewhere in Nevada - probably some military base. My guess is that this place was built during the cold-war to practice war-games in an invasion scenario. Whatever it once was, it's your new home now."
He turned to go, and said over his shoulder as he left, "I'm room 34 if you need to call me on the phone to ask me anything; just dial the room number. I'll be by to pick you up at 6:15 a.m. Don't leave your room before 6:00 a.m. or...." He pointed his finger back behind him towards James as he continued to walk away.
"...or I'll get the shock of my life," James responded.
J.T. gave him a thumbs up without turning around.
James unlocked the door to his room and went inside. The 1950's era decorations were complete, right down to the vintage bedspread, tacky lamp, two-drawer dresser with a cheap veneer faux wood finish, and the metal trash can with a western motif painting of a stagecoach on it. He smiled as he thought about how much better this was than going to sleep each night in his former jail cell back East.
He sat down on the bed, propped some pillows up as a backrest, and began reading the manual J.T. had given him.
Chapter Five
From the manual:
Inmates are expected to follow all the rules set forth in this manual. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary measures which can include revocation of any suspended sentence agreement and removal from the program.
A central part of the program are the five practices. All inmates must participate in the following:
1. Participate in the daily exercise regimen.
2. Attend the scheduled group sessions and individual counseling sessions.
3. Practice an approved hobby.
4. Read a book from the approved book list for one hour per day.
5. Contribute to the community by performing approved acts of service.
James was awakened from a deep sleep by an alarm clock noise coming from a speaker positioned in the corner of his room. After the alarm sounded for about ten seconds, a pleasant-sounding automated voice came over the speaker: "Please report to the exercise field for your morning exercises in 30 minutes."
James barely had time to shower and change into a jumpsuit he found in the closet before he heard a rapping at the door. He opened it up to see J.T. in a similar-looking jumpsuit.
"Come on in. I'm just putting on my shoes."
"No can-do," replied J.T. "We cannot go into another inmate's room." J.T
. pointed up into the sky. "Big brother is watching."
James finished tying his shoes and followed J.T. down the street to what looked like a small park. Gathered in the middle of the park were six other people in jumpsuits. J.T. greeted the group as they approached.
"Good morning, troops! This is our new recruit. His name is James."
James began to move forward to begin shaking hands with the first man, who looked to be in his late forties, about five-foot-six, and slightly built. The man held up both hands and took a step back.
"Whoa! Don't touch me or you'll be shocked."
James immediately backed off. "Sorry about that. Not used to the rules yet."
"That's o.k. We just wave around here," the man replied. "I'm Samuel." He waved his hand at James for effect.
"Hi Samuel." James waved his hand back.
Before the conversation could continue, the same automated voice came over some well-hidden speakers.
"Position yourself to begin morning exercises in 30 seconds."
The group, James noticed, had grown to the full complement of ten inmates. Everyone quickly spaced themselves out to begin the exercises. James had read about the exercise routine the night before in the manual. Stretching, followed by aerobic calisthenics and body-weight exercises, finishing up with some Tai-chi and a 1 mile walk/run. The whole work-out was intended to be about 30 minutes long for most people, but 45 minutes was allotted to account for some people taking longer to finish the walk/run at the end.
James was surprised to notice that there were five women in the group. No one had told him that this was going to be a co-ed facility. He was liking this new facility better by the minute. When the group started the run, he positioned himself beside one of the women who had short, blonde hair.
"How long have you been here?" James asked.
"Not interested," she replied.
"Not interested in what?"
"Look," she responded, "we both know you're just starting this conversation because you're attracted to me. I'm just letting you know up front that I'm not interested. No big deal, just not interested."
Before James could respond, the woman picked up the pace and ran ahead of James. James sped up and came up alongside of her again.
"Hey, I get it, o.k.? But since we're both stuck in here, maybe we could be friends."
She turned her head to the side and rolled her eyes. Next, she sped up the pace again. James tried to keep up, but it was clear he was in no shape to catch her, so he finally started slowing down. J.T. soon came jogging up beside him.
"Don't mind her. She's got a chip on her shoulder."
"Why's that?" James asked.
"You ever wonder why you were picked out for this program? Why anyone was picked out for a program years after it started when only ten people were selected to be in it?"
"I haven't had time to think too much about that yet."
"One of us died, that's why."
James put two and two together.
"So the one who died was her boyfriend, is that it?"
"Yep. And his replacement is the last person you want to be. Every time she looks at you, she'll remember him."
"What happened to him?"
"Freak accident. He was allergic to shellfish. One of the sandwiches they delivered for us had been mis-labeled and had shellfish in it. One bite and he went in to anaphylactic shock. Died before we could give him the epinephrine shot."
"Wow."
"Yeah, I miss the guy. He was a real corker. So anyway, I'd leave her alone for a good six months if you ever want to be on speaking terms with her."
"Thanks for the tip," James replied.
They finished the run and everyone headed back to their rooms to change into their work clothes. James had been trained on his job before arriving, so it was no surprise when he walked into the small warehouse and found his assembly station looking very similar to what he had been trained on. The ubiquitous automated voice came over the speaker system and announced the count-down to the beginning of work. Thus began James' first day of work in the program.
It was easy enough to remember his job. Put the bolts in here, apply the gasket there, place the completed part in the bin for the next person in line to do their job. Overall, it was mind-numbingly boring, but it was better than staring at a cell wall for most of the day, so he wasn't too bothered by it.
Dinner was in the diner and was very different from any of the prison meals James had ever had before. Men and women sat together, and it felt more like a pot luck dinner at your grandmother's house than a prison cafeteria. James sat in a booth with J.T., Julie, and Malcolm. Julie was very up front about the fact that she was incarcerated for insurance fraud. Malcolm was about fifty years old and was telling jokes throughout the meal that made Julie laugh so hard she snorted.
Afterwards, once it was announced that dinner was over, everyone took their dishes and utensils to the counter where three of the group, who were apparently on kitchen duty, took them and began washing them. Everyone else exited the diner and began walking down the street. James followed along, wondering where they were headed as they continued in the opposite direction from their rooms at the motel. Soon they were in front of a red brick single-story building. Three steps led up to the entrance of the building. There were four concrete columns at the entrance to a small portico which sheltered the doors to the interior of the building. Over the door, etched in stone, were the words, "Utopia Public Library".
Everyone but J.T. and James split off once they entered the library. James could see that there were several seating areas spaced throughout the long middle corridor that ran the length of the building. The cushioned seats were dated, but comfortable looking. The inmates began sitting down in the different areas, each with one or more books in their hands that they had retrieved from a shelf near the entrance.
"I assume you've read the manual?" J.T. queried.
"Yes. But it was a bit short on the particulars," James replied.
"There are around 100,000 books in this building, with 200,000 more accessible on the intranet from the computer terminals in the back," J.T. explained. "The computers are on a closed network, so you can't get to the web - just in case you were wondering. You pick a book and read it. When you are done, you punch in the book code on one of the computer terminals and you take a short test that basically proves you actually or probably read the book, and that's it. Books range from fifth grade reading level through college level. Classics to modern. No trashy romance novels, no porn, and nothing that encourages violence or criminal behavior, but beyond that, the field is wide open. Oh, and I almost forgot - the books can't leave the building. There are sensors at the door and the cameras are watching." J.T. pointed up to where James could see several black orbs protruding on stems from the ceiling.
"What happens if you don't get the answers right or just refuse to read?"
"Well, I'm thinking you can guess what your options are..." J.T. began.
"Tow the line or get kicked out of the program?" replied James.
"You see?" J.T. responded. "I knew you were a smart one the moment you walked in. Happy reading." With that, J.T. wandered off into the library to find his own reading material for the night.
James had done well enough in school, but he had never been much of a reader. Between helping his mom out by working a job after school and doing his school work, he never took the time to explore non-required books. He wandered up and down the aisles, looking at the shelves full of books he had mostly never heard of. He wound up in the history section and his eyes lighted upon a thin book entitled The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Without much interest other than fulfilling his required reading obligation, he found a comfortable-looking chair and sat down to begin to read.
Chapter Six
James woke up to the sound of the automated voice instructing him to dress for work and proceed t
o the workshop at 451 tenth street. He looked at the clock positioned on the bedside table and noticed he had been awakened a full hour earlier than normal. He stared at the ceiling momentarily, wishing he could sleep in, but knowing that wasn't an option, so he got up anyway. He showered, dressed, and headed out the door just as the sun was rising on Utopia. The street lights were still on and the night chill was still in the air.
Utopia was designed with one main street going down the middle of town, with short side streets jutting off that were themselves perpendicular to the main road at every block. The side streets were numbered sequentially, so it was easy to find 10th street. James found his destination just behind the first row of buildings.
The workshop was a brick building with a metal roof. It had large metal sliding doors facing directly toward the street, and a smaller door off to the side for pedestrian access. James knocked on the door three times and waited. There was no answer, so he went inside.
The ceiling to the workshop was about thirty feet up, where huge gas-powered lights shown down on the contents of the building below. There was an empty area directly in front of the large sliding doors, leading to the alleyway that was big enough to park a couple of large vehicles. Beyond that were several rows of industrial-sized shelving units two-stories tall and about ten feet wide each, which spanned the remaining length of the building.
"Good mornin'," J.T.'s familiar voice echoed out in the cavernous space. James looked up to see J.T. peering down at him from the second story of one of the large shelving units. "Come on up," he continued as he waved his hand at the metal staircase attached to the end of the shelves.
James climbed up the stairs and followed J.T. through a narrow middle passageway that eventually opened up into what looked like a woodworking shop. Natural light shown in from the opaque skylight directly above the area. Shelves lined the open space with what appeared to be wood carvings of mostly people's faces. James noticed that the faces on one end of the area were filled with pain. Some were crying, some were simply sad, and others looked like the faces of despair and anguish. As he moved down the line, he noticed the faces began to change. They began to display softer emotions, even happiness, some of them bordering on what could be described as joy. J.T. remained silent as he watch James taking it all in. Only when it was apparent that James had surveyed the whole area did J.T. speak.