The Alouette helicopter approached the village from over the hills, and across the estuary.
It circled the village once then having made its final approach landed on the
lawn by the sea wall.
The pair of steel doors opened and
the tall lean figure of No.22 walked smartly down the ramp, the steel doors
sliding shut behind him. He approached the desk.
“You know who he is of course” No.22
said.
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” No.2
replied.
“He won’t be an easy customer to deal
with.”
“Are any of them?”
No.2 pressed a button on the control
panel of his desk switching on the large wall screen, it displayed the interior
of a cottage. The maid was about to take the Prisoner’s breakfast tray away.
“Where
are you going with that?” the prisoner shouted.
“I’m taking your breakfast dirties
away” the maid told him.
“But
I haven’t had any breakfast!”
No.2 turned off the screen “I think
its time I paid him a call, look after the shop.”
“Yes Number 2,”
No.2 left the Green Dome, on foot, he had a
call to make. Not that any No.2 was given to making house calls, only in such
extreme cases were such calls made.
The cottage was but a few steps away,
down the steps, across the street, across the square, through a small gate up
three steps and along to the cottage. The door opened and the stout figure of
No.2 stood framed in the doorway.
“May I come in?”
“You’re asking? Well come in if you
must, no-one is stopping you.”
The interior of the cottage was that
of a cell carved out of stone, and the occupant sat on a plain wooden chair, at
a plain wooden table.
“Welcome to my.....humble abode!”
It was a one room cottage, nothing more than a cell really. Table,
chair, bed with a mattress, and a bucket in the corner. Basic stuff.
We tried to make you as comfortable
as possible” No.2 told the prisoner.
“You’ve put me in a cell!”
“When people arrive here we try to
lesson the impact by allowing them to wake up in what we call a home from
home.”
“You call this home from home?”
“We create a replica of a room in
their former home, yours just happened to have been a cell in a prison.”
“I’m
no better here than I was there!” the prisoner shouted.
“I know who you are Number.......
“I am not a number.....I am Five” the
prisoner said with good authority.
“But five is a number, not a name”
the warder said.
“It is a name if I choose it to be.”
“But why Five when you could choose
any number?”
“It’s
my name, my name!” the prisoner shouted.
The warder bowed “But why that name?”
“It’s as good as any.”
“Yes, yes I suppose it is.”
“Why are you here anyway, you were
only here yesterday, have you come to torment me even more?”
“I can assure you Mister Five, I’ve
not been here before, you must be mistaken.”
“Mistaken.....me, no.”
“The maid’s almost as bad!” the
prisoner said.
“The maid, what’s wrong with her?”
“She brought me my breakfast this
morning” the prisoner said.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“She took it away before I had eaten it. Then she brought me lunch.”
“What point are you trying to make?”
“She is trying to disorientate me, I
had only just had lunch. Then the next time she brought me lunch it wasn’t for
two days!”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of
course I’m sure! You are playing tricks with my mind!”
“I’m not here to play tricks, I’m
here to hear your......”
“My confession?”
“They do say confession is good for
the soul” the warder told him.
“Who are they, the priesthood? I
would offer you a drink, only I’ve nothing in, and they won’t let me go to the
shop.”
“Who are they?”
“The guardians.”
The next day, or possibly the day after,
they allowed 5 to go out into the village. It was not as he thought it to be,
not like any prison he had known, more like a holiday resort, a mixture of
architecture but basically Italianate of sorts. Everyone seemed to be enjoying
themselves, sitting around reading, listening to the brass band, or down on the
beach, at the cafe or simply out for an afternoon stroll. He saw a newspaper
vender selling copies of The Tally Ho, he took a copy.
“That will be two units please” the
vender told him.
“Units, what are units?” 5 asked.
“Credit units” the vender replied.
“I haven’t got any credit units” 5
told him.
“Well you can have the broadsheet,
just make sure you pay me next time you see me.”
5 walked off slowly examining the
front page of the large broadsheet. The main headline read “No.5 To Face
Further Inquisition!” and he began to read of his own case which had been
brought to the attention of the Committee.
“Committee, if that’s the worst they
can do to me then let them” and he screwed the paper up and threw it into a
litter bin.
He heard music, what was it now?......music makes for a quiet mind and
he crossed the lawn towards the bandstand where he sat in a deckchair and
enjoyed an afternoon of music.
“He’s calm” the supervisor observed
watching the wall screen.
“He is now” his assistant agreed
“wait until he goes back to his cell....I mean cottage that should throw him.”
It was late afternoon when 5 decided to
return to his cottage, to his surprise there were windows, what’s more light
shone through those windows! He rushed round to the door of the cottage and
stood there for a moment hardly daring to open the door. Then the door opened
automatically and he stood framed in the doorway looking in.
His cold stone cell had gone, replaced
by furniture, painted walls, pictures, books, statuettes, a leather chair, a
comfortable recliner, table lights all the comforts of home. Stepping over the
threshold the door closed behind him and for the first time he felt
comfortable, almost at home.
“It’s the comfy chair effect” No.2
told his assistant as they looked at the wall screen “we’ve taken away all the
hardship and replaced it with comfort.
“He’ll find that difficult to take
to” 21 said.
“Yes, that’s what I’m banking on,
with any luck he’ll break down at the sight of it, realize he’s finally being
treated with compassion.”
The sudden realization of the
situation kicked in “I know why you have done this” he shouted at the ceiling
“I know you are listening, watching, it won’t work!”
It was worth a try Number 2” 21 said
watching the prisoner collapsed on the floor of his cottage on the wall screen.
“I guess we will simply have to try
something else” No.2 said dejectedly.
“Shall we give him his stone cell
back?”
“No, let him keep the cottage as it
is, but see to it he’s given fresh clothes.”
“And what about you Number 2?”
“I’ll suffer for my failure, that
over-sized red curved telephone will begin to bleep any time now, and I’ll be
on my way I expect.”
No.21 walked across the floor and up
the ramp, as the doors slid open he paused and looked back, that telephone was
bleeping..........
Be seeing you
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