“How long have you worked here?” Mitch asked Bander.
“Since the beginning,” he said.
“Yeah?” Mitch asked. “You ever seen any of the Serenes break their serenity?”
Bander walked on and shook his head confidently. “Nope. We’ve had a one hundred percent success rate.” He glanced back at Mitch. “I make sure of that.”
“Have you always worked in the corrections industry?” Salvi asked.
“Not in the prison system, no. I’ve worked in security most of my life, ran my own business, but a few years back I was looking for a change and got a job at a local prison, found I was good at it, then the mayor offered me a job here. He was looking for someone who knew how to secure both people and property. I had skills in both, it was paying well, so,” he shrugged, “here I am.”
They came to the other side of the walkway bridge and approached a circular, white metal door sealed with a series of mechanical locks. It looked like something from a submarine. Bander swiped his pass on a console beside the door and submitted to a retinal scan before the door unlocked.
“This is the BioLume plant,” he said, tugging hard on the heavy circular handle to open the door.
Before them, Salvi saw a large circular facility with wide circular windows cut out of the walls. On the ground floor, sat a broad expanse of concrete topped with several bulky silver metal vats, which she guessed were responsible for the strong odor of wet moss that filled her nose. About twenty workers were spread across the floor at various posts; some working consoles, some checking samples, some undertaking mechanical work. All wore biohazard suits to stop contact with the bacteria that made up the BioLume product. She stepped onto the elevated grid platform that ran the perimeter of the plant. From her birdseye view she could see into each vat and noticed they were different shades of green; each vat at a different stage of the process to become the final BioLume product which would eventually be packed into globes and shipped to stores. All for the purpose of natural light and environmentally sustainable homes.
Within seconds of them coming to stand on the observation platform, all the workers below noticed their arrival, paused, and stared up at them. Although it felt like they were only staring at her. Dressed head to toe in their white protective-wear and face masks, their bodies tinged by the green glow emanating from the vats, they looked alien in appearance. She wondered how many of them were Serenes and how many were Subjugates.
Levan Bander pulled the baton off his belt and smacked it hard three times on the edge of the railing. The workers below immediately went back to work.
Mitch shot Salvi a look before he began with more questions.
“All of these workers are almost transformed?”
Bander nodded, eyeing the residents below. “Most of ’em are Serenes. Some are Subjugates about to get their wings back.” Bander looked at Salvi. “A few of them probably haven’t seen a woman in the flesh for several years. Let’s hope you haven’t set their treatment back.”
Salvi eyed him. “I’m covered head to toe in a suit. I’m sure seeing one woman from afar won’t set them on a killing rampage.”
Bander grunted a laugh. “You’d be surprised.”
“How many work in this factory at any one time?” Mitch asked.
“Depends. Normally about what we got here now. We undergo daily testing on the vats to check the culture level. It’s a fine art. If the conditions are too acidic, they die. Too alkaline? They die. Every twelve weeks we clear out a vat and start a new batch.”
“Where does it go when it’s ready?” Salvi asked.
Bander motioned for them to follow him, as he began to walk along the platform to the left. They came to one of the circular windows and he pointed out. “The storage cells.”
Salvi looked out to see the six teardrop-shaped silos, shining a brilliant silver in the mid-morning sun.
“After the vat is done, we let it ferment a while in the storage silos. Then when it’s fully cooked, every month we load the readied BioLume into the special globes with the sheath cover that slides up and down to enable the light to be turned out, then we send them out to stores.”
“And the Serenes load the globes too?” Mitch asked.
“Yeah,” Bander motioned in the distance, “over in the next building.”
“Looks like it keeps the residents pretty busy,” Salvi said.
“Sure does,” Bander said. “We’re almost at a point where we’re struggling to keep up with demand.” He looked at them and smirked. “Business is booming.”
“We got orders from Japan just the other day!” Attis Solme’s voice sounded behind them.
They turned to see him smiling as he approached along the grid walkway.
“Word is spreading and it’s growing by the day,” he said. “This here,” he waved his hands like a game show hostess over the plant, “is benefiting the Solme Complex at large in more ways than one. Not only are we are starting to ease the pressure on prison populations by taking in criminals, healing that terrible element of society and putting them to good use, but we’re using a natural product and making this world more sustainable for everyone.” Attis turned and smiled at Salvi. “And we are self-funded. We’re not taking a dime from the government or other funding bodies. Self-funded, self-sufficient, self-governing. We’re helping society, not burdening it. How could anyone not want this?”
“I guess so,” Salvi said.
“Unless they reoffend,” Mitch said. “Then there’s a chink in the chain.”
“There’s no chink in my chain, Detective. This here is utopia.”
Salvi moved over to the railing and looked down again. She watched as one worker took a sample from a vat then moved to pour it into another container for study. As he turned back around, Salvi noted bright green splotches on his white biohazard uniform.
“Do they need any kind of specialized training to handle the BioLume?” she asked.
Attis moved to stand beside her. “They’re given detailed training when they first start and are watched carefully onwards by the more experienced ones.”
“What happens if they get any BioLume on their skin?”
“It’s incredibly difficult to do in their suits, but should a worker get even the slightest drop on their skin, they take a special cleansing shower afterward to kill the bacteria. We are audited regularly. I assure you, Detective, we have the highest quality standards here and health and safety are paramount to us. I used to run a fertilizer plant in my former life, so I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah?” she asked. “From fertilizer to the rehabilitation of criminals. That’s quite a change in career.”
He smiled again, looking out upon the factory with pride. “I am a religious man now, but I never used to be. I was a successful man, had wealth, but somehow in my foolishness, my greed, I lost it all. But then I met my wife and I realized I was being given a second chance. She changed my world, helped me build up my fortune again. She taught me about kindness and care, and forgiveness. She showed me the light of God. The Solme Complex, in a way, is for her. In her honor.” He smiled again sadly. “I think she would be so proud of what I’ve done here.”
“Your wife passed?” Salvi asked gently.
Attis nodded. “Cancer. She taught me so much about strength. She could’ve been so bitter and angry about her life being cut short, but she wasn’t. This was her path, she told me. This was God’s plan. And it was,” he said. “She inspired all of this.” He waved his hand again across the plant floor. “She always believed that criminals were misunderstood and needed a second chance and a guiding hand, that if only they had religion in their lives they could be saved. Her strength, her courage, her death… it led me to this. This, here, is God’s will.”
Salvi saw the look on the mayor’s face as he eyed the workers below, saw a slight shine to his eyes. Pride in his creations. She glanced back at Levan Bander, who stared stony-faced and unaffected by his boss’s passion. Further alon
g was Mitch, not really listening, too focused on studying the residents below, eager to interrogate them.
“Shall we commence the interviews?” Salvi asked Attis.
He looked back at her. “First you must meet Doctor Remmell. He’s in charge of the medical and psychiatric care of our residents. Nothing can be done without him present.”
They made their way back to the exit and stepped onto the sealed glass walkway again. As they crossed over to the other side, Salvi noticed one of the residents standing close by on the ground, staring up at them. He showed no facial expression, just stood, mouth slightly open, one hand reaching into a hessian bag he held, groping the seeds within. She saw no beige belt, so this was a Subjugate.
“Ah,” Attis Solme said seeing the man. He glanced at Salvi. “Subjugate-12, also known as Fontan Pragge.”
Salvi studied the man; old and stooped and gray, his mouth glistening. His brain damage was apparent just by looking at him; the glaze in his eyes, the drool along his mouth. A small part of her felt sorry for him. But then she thought of his victims, of the four year-old girl, the eighty-two year-old grandmother, and it quickly ebbed. She shared a glance with Mitch, and the look on his face told her that he felt no pity at all.
Upon entering the main facility again, they parted ways with Attis Solme once more and followed Bander to the ward where the Subjugates were processed. They walked down more tubular corridors of soft BioLume light and felt walls, eventually entering the treatment wing, passing the doors of the individual processing rooms. Curious, Salvi slowed and moved to peer through the window of one. The room was small with a laid-back chair in the center. She noticed the chair had head, arm and leg restraints. A small table with a semi-circular edge cut out was attached to the chair, positioned over it. Another table sat beside the chair that held a pair of VR glasses and various implements that looked like they belonged in a surgical theater. Or perhaps a torture chamber.
Mitch stood beside her and peered in also.
“Hey!” Bander called. “Keep up. Don’t deviate.”
Salvi exchanged a look with Mitch then turned to follow Bander. They moved toward him as a Subjugate approached from the opposite direction, escorted by another guard. The Subjugate’s face was sweating, his nose bleeding, and more blood was splattered down the front of his beige tunic. A bewildered look was plastered on his face that soon turned to terror upon seeing them. Upon seeing her. The Subjugate averted his eyes, scrunching them closed, and turned his body toward the wall in a cowering pose as though afraid he was about to be beaten. As they passed she heard him whispering to himself, pleading, “No, no, no, no, no.”
Salvi glanced back at him after they passed and saw his escorting guard tugging him by the arm and hissing something into his ear that made the Subjugate curl into himself even more.
“I’m sure Doctor Remmell will go over this,” Bander said, bringing her attention back to him, “but you need to watch your language with the Subjugates. You are not to mention any words that may incite or remind them of their prior criminal activity. Death is one of them. So is murder. So is rape. Get the picture? You can only speak of the present. You must never bring up their past. Do you understand?”
“Why’s that?” Mitch asked.
“Because we’ve erased it,” Bander said plainly. “They don’t know that person any more. That was a different person and that person is now dead and buried. We do not resurrect that person. We do not speak of the dead. You don’t mention their old names. You refer to them by their Subjugate or Serene number only. No names, no past. Understand?”
Salvi and Mitch exchanged another look then nodded at Bander.
They eventually came to a wide silver door. Bander submitted to the security clearances and the door slid open silently. The caretaker waved them through and Salvi saw another hollowed-out, curved room, with the BioLume lights glowing along white walls. A single white table sat in the middle of the room, with chairs set back a little either side.
Bander motioned for them to sit, as another man entered the room. Dressed in a white uniform, similar to that of a dentist, he stood around 5’11 and weighed maybe 170 pounds.
“Doctor Dunstan Remmell,” he said in a British accent, shaking their hands. He looked back at Bander. “Would you bring in Serene-23?” The caretaker gave a nod and left the room.
Remmell’s hair was short and blond, the face beneath his brown rectangular glasses looked young, but Salvi guessed that was more to do with lack of sun than his actual age. His small brown eyes stared back at hers with a look of intellect as he took a seat on the other side of the table. “I’m in charge of overseeing the medical and psychiatric treatment of the Subjugates. Mayor Solme asked me to speak with you and provide a list of the Subjugates soon to graduate to Serenes.”
“Yes,” Mitch said. “There are approximately fifteen, is that right?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Fifteen in that phase of the treatment, but only seven of those are close to graduation and hence allowed into the town.”
“And were they in town the day of the murder?” Mitch asked.
“Yes,” Remmell answered in a calm, measured voice. “They were.”
“Do you normally have that many Subjugates in town on any one day?” Salvi asked.
“No. On that particular day extra hands were called for to help clear a vacant block, readying it for building on. Every month new families are moving to Bountiful to lead the tech-free religious lifestyle.”
“Where was the block of land?” Salvi asked.
“Not far from the center of town.”
“How far from the Gleamer residence?” she asked.
Dr Remmell hesitated a moment. “I believe it was a couple of streets away.”
“So who were the seven Subjugates in town that day?” Mitch asked.
Remmell pressed his hands against the table and a keyboard embedded within lit up beneath his fingers. He tapped the keys and soon a thin glass pane emerged from the wall to their right. Upon it, a list of names appeared. Salvi looked back at Remmell.
“How long have you been working with the Subjugates?”
“I’ve been here from the start, but this will be my seventh year in charge of their care,” he said.
“Who did you take over from?”
“Doctor Roman Broucharde. He retired. But I assisted him for the first two years of my employ here.”
“So, you would know these seven Subjugates quite well, then?” Salvi asked.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “Better than anyone.”
“Are any of these Subjugates the type to relapse?” Mitch asked, pointing to the seven names on the screen. “Have any given you signs that their treatment isn’t working?”
“No,” he said, again confidently. “If they did, they wouldn’t be allowed into town. I personally authorize the transition and will not authorize it unless I’m entirely sure there is no chance of re-offense.”
“Can you give us a rundown on these seven men?” Salvi asked. “Show us their criminal files?”
“I can,” Doctor Remmell said. “However, it’s important you understand, these men you wish to interview are not the same men as those in their criminal files. We’ve seen to that.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Mitch said.
“Our processes here are impeccable,” Remmell said. “We take every precaution.”
“Mr Solme outlined the treatment, but can you walk us through it?” Salvi asked.
“Of course,” he said, as Bander came back into the room, along with another Serene. Remmell saw them and turned back to Salvi and Mitch. “Would you care for tea?”
“Thank you.” Salvi nodded, but Mitch shook his head. The Serene bowed and left again.
“So how do you transform a hardened criminal into that?” Salvi asked, watching the Serene leave.
“With years of treatment,” Remmell said. “What type of treatment and the amount of which depends on the patient. We hold daily psycho
logical sessions. We work to keep them calm and we work to extricate the hate and violence from their systems. Many of these criminals were abused themselves as children or young adults. Many come from broken and violent homes. Many are battling addictions when they arrive here.”
“Many other people come from these places too,” Mitch said, “and yet they don’t inflict harm on anyone else.”
“This is true,” Remmell conceded. “And some were born with neurological and psychological deficiencies that couldn’t be controlled. There are many murderers who came from loving families,” he said with a smile. “But there was something wrong with their brains to make them this way… This is why it is crucial to treat each one individually. Just like our fingerprints we are each individually wired in our own unique way. Each of us a result of our genetic makeup, our upbringings and the societal effect. Some residents just require a chemical or hormonal re-balance. This of course, we do to all our Subjugates. They receive twice-daily injections, a chemical castration. In time these injections will decrease, once we’re certain their treatment has worked and any adjustments made to their brain and behaviors have become permanent. Once this is the case, they will be weaned off their medication. Some may stay on the injections for life. Again, this is decided on a case by case basis.”
“So that’s the chemical castration,” Salvi said. “What about the other treatments?”
“We use various methods. For those deemed sexually violent, the ultimate way is to submit our Subjugates to regular PPGs–”
“PPGs?” Salvi asked.
“Penile plethysmography.” Remmell pressed a button on his console and a section of the desk opened to reveal a drawer. He pulled out what looked like a rubbery sock. He held it out to Salvi and she took it and examined it. “This is a haptic sheath. It’s one of the ways we test our Subjugates. It measures blood flow to the penis. We subject them to certain stimuli and see if it results in arousal. If it does, we work to remove that arousal from them.”
The Subjugate Page 12
