The Subjugate

by Amanda Bridgeman

  “So, you honestly believe the Subjugates and Serenes you put on the streets of Bountiful are no longer a threat to society?” Salvi asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said, sitting forward, placing his forearms on the desk and clasping his hands as though in prayer. “We’re fixing the ultimate problem that others have not been able to fix. The problem of reintegrating these people into society. Do you know how hard it is to send convicted sex offenders back into the public? Even after they’ve done their time in prison? No one wants them living in their neighborhood. No one. Their options are limited. They either end up sitting in prisons or other special facilities because they have nowhere else to go. Some are lucky and get sent to special living quarters on the outside. But it’s very difficult for them to reintegrate with ankle bracelets, constant check-ups from parole officers, the restrictions on where they can go, what they can do. Those convicted of pedophilia must never go anywhere children may be. The beach, a shopping mall, parks. They’re listed online for all to see, for the rest of their lives. That’s no way to live.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mitch raised his hand, “you’re talking about convicted sex offenders here. The public has a right to know if a potential threat is living next door to them and their children.”

  “Exactly.” Attis pointed at him. “And I agree. But what is the system to do with all these unwanted offenders? The only way the public will ever accept them back into society is if they are cured of their demons once and for all. When the public has one hundred percent assurance the individual has lost all desire and will not reoffend. A one hundred percent assurance that the individual has in fact been taught to never harm another human being, and instead, to always help those in need. And that is what we do here. We take them, we fix them, we turn them around, and we send them back out into society as non-violent, non-threatening, non-offending individuals that give back to the society they once stole from.”

  “But how do you fix them, exactly?” Salvi asked. “The neural tech you describe is effectively an alarm system and a possible weapon against them, but how do you train them against their natural thoughts? These men often have personality disorders, brain dysfunctions, that are beyond their control.”

  “Again, it depends on their individual needs. We can apply a variety of treatments. All undergo the chemical castration as I have said. They receive twice-daily injections to control their testosterone levels and keep them on a subdued plateau. As any patient with a medical disorder, they must take their meds for life. If this proves unachievable there are more permanent measures we can take. As I also said, they undergo intensive daily therapy with psychiatrists, sitting regular testing. If we fail to see any progression, then we apply special brain tweaks that see an end to their attraction to murder and sexual violence.”

  “Brain tweaks?” Mitch asked.

  Attis smiled. “We… numb… the relevant parts of their brains, but I’ll let my lead psychologist explain that in more depth when you meet him.”

  The silence sat for a moment before Salvi broke it. “Are there any female Subjugates?”

  “Not as yet, no. In time I would like to incorporate them, but the truth is, most murderers and sexual predators are indeed male.”

  “So, the families can petition to send inmates here?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes. Requests are made and considered by the federal prison board.” Attis sighed heavily. “It’s been a long road, but word is spreading about the work we do here.” He smiled again. “It’s hard to think that I started this program with just five Subjugates. By next month we will exceed a hundred and twenty. We’re already drawing up plans to expand the compound.”

  “And you’ve never had any problems with the treatment?” Salvi asked. “No setbacks? Faults?”

  “No. Neither our Subjugates nor our Serenes have inflicted harm on anyone.”

  “And after the Crash you’re not worried about using neural implants?” Mitch asked. “Do they have any connectivity with a wider program that can be hacked?”

  “Not yet, but we are working on a second phase that would include such connectivity.”

  “How so?” Salvi asked.

  Attis smiled again. “Our numbers are growing. Soon we will need to set up other facilities to house them, and soon we will need to release the Serenes back into the wild permanently. Connectivity to a wider program will enable us to keep an eye on all of our Serenes once released back into society. They will effectively still be prisoners but live in the outside world.”

  “Why do you need to keep an eye on them if you believe they’re cured?” Mitch asked.

  “To appease the federal prison board and disbelievers like yourself, Detective.”

  “Have you received federal permission to roll out connectivity with the Serenes’ implants already?” Salvi asked, unable to hide her surprise. “They banned connectivity after the Crash. They’re really going to open it up again?”

  “Neural implant connectivity has never left the table,” Attis said. “It was just put on hold to allay fears after the Crash. I have no doubt it will be a strong part of our future.”

  “And if another terrorist organization comes along, hacks the system and fries the brains of your precious Serenes?” Mitch said. “Or worse, somehow sends them on a killing rampage? There will always be hackers. Connected neural implants will never be safe.”

  “Well, I plan to show them otherwise.” Attis smiled.

  “How?” Salvi asked. “How exactly will connected neural implants help them?”

  “We’ve studied and recorded the neurological patterns which precede the errors in their behavior. We know what each of their brains do when they’re aroused to things they shouldn’t be. We’ve mapped the signals, the triggers. And if they register on our systems, we can intercept their mistakes before they make them.” He smiled again with a twinkle in his eye. “Just think, one day we may be able to apply this to the wider population. Imagine a world where we can shut down threats and stop murders and rapes before they occur. We may not need the police any more.”

  “Unlikely,” Mitch said.

  “Well, for now we’ll settle for stopping criminals from reoffending. We will ensure our Serenes are trained to never harm another human being again.”

  Salvi nodded. “So, the government is effectively letting you use these prisoners as lab rats. Lab rats that no one will miss if the tech fails and they die.”

  Attis looked at Salvi and took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Let’s get one thing clear, Detective. I am here to save these men. It is the path the Lord has asked me to walk and walk it I shall. I am saving these sinners. I am turning their eyes to the Lord. And neural tech is the tool that allows me to do this, along with religion and therapy of course. It’s the only way to rescue their minds from the devil. We exorcise that devil and we banish it for good. And should that devil ever think of returning, their halo will stop it.”

  “No,” Mitch said, “their halo will just warn you. And how will that warning system work once you ‘release them into the wild’ and they’re a hundred miles away?”

  “That’s what the connectivity is for.” Salvi nodded to herself. “Someone sits in a control room and watches. If a halo codes blue, they shut it down. Freeze their brains.”

  “That’s a lot of halos to watch,” Mitch commented.

  “Not with a fully automated system overseen by a superior AI,” Attis said. “Within mere nanoseconds of a code blue, the Serene would be on the floor.”

  “Has the treatment you apply affected any of the Serenes or Subjugates unduly?” Salvi asked. “Have there been any physical or psychological issues reported?”

  “We’ve, er, only ever had one issue with treatment.”

  “And what was that?” Mitch asked.

  “A Subjugate by the name of Fontan Pragge. He reacted poorly to the treatment provided.”

  “In what way?” Salvi asked.

  Attis hesitated a moment. “He acquired brain dama
ge,” he said, but quickly held up his hand in a motion to let him finish. “That was in the early days of the program. A setback which we’ve now overcome.”

  “How much brain damage?” Mitch asked.

  Attis considered his words. “For the most part he has normal function. He’s… just a little slow.”

  “Who was he?” Salvi asked. “Before coming here?”

  “Fontan Pragge was a serial rapist,” Attis told her. “Anything went. His youngest victim was four years old, the oldest was eighty-two. He showed no restraint nor any repentance for his crimes. He resisted us at every turn, so he was issued the most rigorous of treatments. The kind that involved our highest level of brain tweaks to numb the pleasure zones. Unfortunately, he received one tweak too many. It caused brain damage.”

  “Where is he now?” Salvi asked.

  “Oh, he’s around,” Attis said. “He’s another of our longest serving residents. Subjugate-12. You can usually find him in the vineyard or the farms, lending a hand.”

  “He allowed in town?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes,” Attis said. “He goes with the other Serenes, but I assure you he’s as harmless as a fly. He doesn’t have the, er, physical capacity let alone the intellect to launch an attack such as the one on Miss Gleamer.”

  “How many of your residents are cleared to go into town?” Salvi asked.

  “There are twenty-three Serenes, and we have another fifteen in progress to become Serenes,” he said. “Although not all of those are allowed into town just yet.”

  “So, several of those fifteen Subjugates are allowed into town?” Salvi asked.

  “Yes, but they are nearing the end of their treatment, soon to become Serenes,” Attis said.

  “But they’re not one hundred percent processed?” Mitch said.

  “No, but at some point, they need to be reintroduced into society. They are taken on excursions to town. At first, it’s one day a week and slowly it builds until it is every day. They help the other Serenes in service of the town, they spend time at the Children of Christ. All the while they are accompanied by guards and other Serenes,” Attis said. “I assure you the guards keep an eye on the Subjugates.”

  “And if a guard gets distracted?” Mitch asked.

  Attis gave him a look that hinted his patience was ebbing, and leaned back into his chair again. “They are watched very carefully. And I remind you, they have had years of intense treatment prior to these trips into town.”

  “But they could still code blue?” Salvi said.

  Silence sat for the briefest of moments before Attis replied. “My borderline Serenes do not code blue.”

  “We’ll need a list of all those who were in town the day of Sharon’s murder,” Mitch said. “We’ll need to speak with each one of them. And I think a good place to start would be with these borderline Subjugates, Mr Solme.”

  The Complex’s mayor stared at Mitch as his mind ticked over.

  “First, I think, you should tour my facility and see our results for yourself. Then, you talk to my lead psychiatrist,” Attis replied, sitting forward in his chair and clasping his hands in prayer again. “Then you may talk with my Subjugates. But I’d like you to promise me something, Detectives?”

  “What’s that?” Mitch asked.

  “Promise me you’ll investigate this thoroughly and fairly.”

  Mitch glanced at Salvi then back to Attis. “We plan to,” he told him.

  “I know this crime has rocked Bountiful,” Attis said. “But I will not help you launch a lynch mob on my doorstep. I know with crimes like this, emotion takes over and people start looking for someone to hang. I have worked long and hard to get the Solme Complex to where it is. I have been successfully treating these people and releasing them back into society and making them useful again. If you try to pin this on one of my Serenes or Subjugates without sufficient evidence, you could destroy everything I have worked hard for all these years.” Attis stared at them both firmly. “And I cannot let that happen. I will not stand by and let you pin Sharon Gleamer’s murder on one of them because you need to appease tensions in the town. I will protect my residents with the full force of the law.”

  “And if one of your Serenes or Subjugates did do this?” Mitch asked him.

  Attis stared at him a moment, considering the question. “If one of my Serenes or Subjugates did this… then I will take full responsibility for that girl’s death. I will accept whatever punishment may come as deemed by the Lord. But I am confident that you have come to the wrong place.”

  A moment of silence sat in the smooth, hollowed-out room.

  “I’ll grant you the interviews,” Attis said, “but you keep this quiet and out of the press. I told Ford, that’s the deal. You will not destroy all my hard work.”

  Salvi watched as Mitch stood from his chair.

  “Let’s get started with the tour, shall we?”

  Chapter Six

  BioLume

  Salvi and Mitch followed Serene-41 down a tubular corridor awash in that green BioLume glow. The neutral walls were covered in a soft felt-like material and the scent of some kind of soothing essential oil wafted throughout. Everything about the place was geared toward pleasantness and harmony. No sharp corners, no bright colors. Salvi almost felt like taking a nap. As they passed other Serenes in the corridor, she noticed they all stopped, smiled and bowed to them, lowering their eyes to the floor as they passed, their halos tarnished under the green lighting. And with each step she saw Mitch’s disgust and unease grow.

  Attis Solme had stayed behind in his office to make a call, promising to find them soon, but he’d requested the Serene take them to the caretaker’s office. The caretaker, they’d been told, was the term for the head guard, the man in charge of the day-to-day security of the inmates and the Complex as a whole.

  When they arrived, she noticed the caretaker’s office was a third of the size of Solme’s. He sat at a small desk near the back wall, facing the door, while a large glass panel was affixed to the wall beside him, alight with data, prisoner numbers and maps. A gum wrapper and coffee mug sat on his desk, while the sound of a baseball game sounded through speakers somewhere. At the touch of a button, the sound ceased, however.

  “Caretaker,” Serene-41 said, lowering his eyes as he bowed. “I bring you Detectives Grenville and Brentt.”

  The caretaker stood from his desk. Appearing to be in his early forties, his face held the hard features of a man who’d seen some tough times. Or at least the look of a man who faced hardened criminals every day. He was fit and toned, stood around 6’1, and weighed maybe 210 pounds.

  “Levan Bander.” He gave a nod, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. Although he was called caretaker, he dressed like a regular prison guard. His uniform was dark brown in color and made from a fitting, synthetic, impenetrable material, while he was equipped with a baton, some kind of taser, and wireless comms gear that sat wrapped around one ear.

  “You know why we’re here?” Mitch asked.

  “Yeah.” Bander rubbed his jaw. “The mayor says you want a look around and to interview some of the Subjugates. This to do with that girl’s death in town, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Mitch rested his hands on his hips.

  “You think one of them did this?”

  “We don’t think anything yet,” Salvi answered quickly with a smile. “We just want to look around and talk to some of them.”

  “Shall we start the tour?” Mitch said eagerly.

  Bander stared at him a moment, then moved around the desk toward them.

  “She coming too?” Bander asked Mitch.

  “Yes, I am,” Salvi said, not letting Mitch answer for her.

  “The mayor approved that?” Bander threw a look to the Serene.

  “Only the green zones,” Serene-41 said, bowing slightly. “No access has been granted to Section A or B.”

  “A or B?” Mitch asked, looking back at Bander. “What’s in A and B?”

  Bander turned
his eyes back to Mitch. “Section A is the new guys. They’re not broken yet. Section B, they’re only half broken. Still a risk.”

  “So where do you keep the Serenes?” Salvi asked.

  Bander turned to her. With his dark blue eyes and square jaw, he was almost attractive. Except for the fact that it looked like his nose had been broken more than once.

  “Serenes are housed in Section D,” he said. “Section C have been broken but we don’t like to take our eyes off them just yet. That’s the Subjugates we allow into town.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” Mitch said.

  Bander nodded. “This way.”

  “Caretaker, do you require my services any longer?” the Serene asked, keeping his eyes on the ground. Something about him reminded Salvi of a geisha. The softness. The servitude.

  Bander waved him off, uninterested, and Serene-41 bowed and walked away.

  Salvi and Mitch followed the caretaker back down the tubular corridor toward reception, then took another corridor to the opposite side of the Complex. All curved, smooth corridors and soft BioLume lighting, it felt like walking through some kind of human ant colony.

  She noted that every Serene they passed quickly stopped and moved back against the walls, lowering their eyes or bowing until they passed. Some almost looked terrified. Fearful. Almost. Perhaps they would be if they were allowed to feel anything any more, if the extreme therapy and chemical castration hadn’t taken it away.

  Or had it?

  Were they simply bowing out of courtesy and respect? Or were they bowing in pure servitude. Bowing out of necessity?

  They ascended in a glass elevator to the second floor and soon emerged onto a walkway bridge. Enclosed like a glass cocoon, with white concrete pillars and circular support beams, it seemed to be leading them away from the main building toward what she suspected was the BioLume plant.

  “Through there is the farm.” Bander pointed to the right-hand side.

  Salvi saw a tractor in the distance and crops. And, of course, both Serenes and Subjugates, who seemed to pause and watch upon seeing them. Dressed in their beige uniforms and brown sandals, she realized now how wrong she’d been in thinking the silver devices wrapped around their skulls were like laurel wreaths. As she looked at them now, the silver headwear glinting in the sunlight really did appear eerily like halos. Solme’s sinners very much appearing as saints to make the residents feel safe.