Deep Yellow

by Stuart Dodds

  “Let’s see if it works. Meal, Garmuldi Steak, small, well cooked.” The auto chef lit up, hummed and a short time later, it chimed ready. Xerica slid open the meal compartment.

  “Smells good. Let’s have a taste.” She took out the meal and, using one of the safety knives, cut into the steak and took a small bite.

  “Tastes good. A little bit of luxury for our inmates. I know that it doesn’t serve intox, though. However, they do have auto chefs with intox dispensers in some of the rooms in the holo worlds. So a challenger could drink themselves to death.”

  Williams shook his head. It was all light-hearted, nothing serious. Xerica was more than capable of doing serious journalism when required. Perhaps we could do a little spot on the inmate’s favourite meals, what they have missed over the years. He emptied his beer.

  “Whisky, ten year malt, small,” Williams said as he lit one of his favourite smokes.

  Williams fast-forwarded through Xerica following the inmates’ “last” walk from their cell doors along and then down the lift to the room containing the entrance doors to the holo worlds.

  “We’ve just walked out of the lift and have entered a beautifully decorated room with four doors set in each wall.”

  The Living Room was a medium sized square room with the lift set in one corner. The walls were covered in ornate green and white detailed patterns. A large multi-faceted glass light hung down from the middle of the ceiling and the floors were of dark wood. Furniture, including a table, chair, and a low cupboard, all had slightly bowed legs. The four “doors to the worlds” each had an ornate design that matched the wall patterns.

  “My media note says, ‘In amongst all the wars taking place on Inhab-47, there are examples of a high culture in the safer parts of the planet.’ This room, the furniture, and the paintings reflect some of that culture. So what do we have here?”

  She wandered around the room, admiringly, if her stare was anything to go by, and trailed her fingers on the furniture whilst reading from her notes.

  “This is one of the paintings. The cloth has been brushed with organic elements. Let’s have a closer look. Well, it is of a woman, presumably a typical person from Inhab-47. She has a plain face, plump lips, and I am not sure whether she is smiling. It is static, no moving elements or holo technology, very basic but yet intriguing.” She walked across to another painting.

  “And this one looks like some flowers in a pot in different shades of yellow.” She rubbed her finger across the painting canvas. “You can feel the thickness of the organic material.”

  Williams took a drag on his smoke. He often used his thumb and forefinger to hold the weed smoke, something he saw on Inhab-47. Xerica appeared impressed, probably would be asking if she could buy the whole room after the challenge; it suited her, though. He had brought back as many original artefacts that he could, or created a sharp enough image for holographic re-modelling. He made sure that the artefact’s extraction did not cause any damage. The doors, for example, came from one of his favourite hotels.

  It was Xerica’s reaction when the holo world activated that Williams would remember for a long time. He had ushered all the reporters inside one of the cavernous rooms, but had not turned on the holo beams. Explanations were given regarding holo beaming, landscape modelling, perspective and the hard moveable walls. Also. that there were limitations, due to the size of the holo rooms, so some areas were truncated to make the area more reachable and entertaining for the audience.

  He had then given them a sensor helmet to wear. Williams stood to one side whilst communicating with Technician 22 via one of his mobile screens.

  “Technician 22. Okay to start?” Williams glanced to one side, envisioning the huge bank of screens and databases that always surrounded the technician in his work pod at the back of the technical and mechanical command centre. Of medium height with grey skin, large eyes, and spindly fingers, his birth colony were all beam specialists and he gravitated towards Police and Space Corps holo programming. The Twins thought he would be the perfect choice for this assignment. Williams wasn’t so sure. Technician 22 lacked character or personality.

  Williams kept smiling whilst waiting for the technician. He seemed to be taking his time. The reporters were becoming restless, as all they could see was the inside of their helmets.

  “Okay, ready.” He had a thin voice to go with his personality.

  Williams turned to the reporters.

  “Get ready, everyone. Turn on the holo world.”

  Xerica gasped.

  Chapter 13 - The others

  Brell waited a while before viewing the other challengers to make sure she felt fresh enough. It sometimes took a while for her mind to clear itself after a drinking Deep Yellow. She expected to receive a message that the whole show idea was a joke of some sort, but no smirking guards arrived.

  The first challenger, inmate, murderer, or whatever, was Kellsa. From Colony 09, like Brell’s favourite inmates at the eating table, she had olive skin, an athletic build, a tribal tattoo on her right cheek, and knotted hair twisted back over her scalp.

  “A tough street skirmisher who murdered a politician for credits,” the commentator said.

  Images showed her fighting with inmates and being restrained by Prison Corps guards, certainly a handful. She had been in prison for four years, so was prison tough, as well.

  Brookko, who was born into smuggling, had killed port officers during a raid. Obviously a dangerous man with issues. Several images appeared of him arguing, or being zapped by Police Corps, court officials, and prison guards. Brell laughed. It was unintentionally funny. He seemed to have difficulty just standing still. A loose cannon, no doubt.

  Grock was a typical Tserian. Light green, lizard-like in appearance, small raised bumps on his head instead of hair. He had an athletic lean body, black eyes but no smile. His lack of emotion and emphasis on planning everything would have been perfect for his previous role in the Space Corps Special Forces. A distinguished officer who led various pirate base raids during his service. He made a mess of things after he retired. Brell nodded. Couldn’t deal with life outside, probably; Corps life would be ingrained on him. He went into personal protection and took an occasional assassination job on the side. Found guilty of premeditated murder; the case seemed to Brell like a job gone wrong. At the time of his arrest, the Police and Judiciary Corps dug into his past, discovering that Grock had been involved in the so-called Steel Town incident. Libertarians had claimed for a long time that the incident was a Space Corps cover-up. Subsequently convicted of another murder, he ended up serving life. Definitely one to watch.

  The last two challengers must have been included in the challenge for a bit of light relief. Perhaps they were trying to soften the programme after all the violent thugs they had used last time.

  Ooma was a farmer who got in with a load of drug dealers and grew some special herbs in an isolated corner of one of his huge harvest fields. The herbs form the basis of the instantly addictive drug MK. Ooma did such a good job that the harvest ended up purer than normal and had changed its chemical structure. When the lab mixed Ooma’s batch with the usual dilutants, the MK had become too potent.

  “Hundreds of people including sons and daughters of well-connected people, became seriously ill. Sadly, many of them died.”

  That would have made it a life sentence, and no doubt, Ooma took the full blame with the drug bosses never caught. Brell watched images of him in prison. Unfortunately, his squat, round body was shaped like a punch bag. He had served three years.

  Then there was Meren, the murdering nun, which sounded like a headline for a new holo drama show.

  There were still images of Meren kneeling in front of a small statue within a circular room, walking in a garden and sitting in a library. Then a couple of faded images of her smiling when she was a youth. She was tall and thin and had a calm, slow manner about her. Hairless, in keeping with Jayzan articles of faith, she had off-white skin and soft blue
eyes. Are they serious about her in the challenge? Brell turned on the commentary.

  “As you may be aware, Jayzan monks and nuns often assist problem communities with their charitable work. However, she was not very charitable herself when she hit a monk with a large metal bar, killing him there and then. Sentenced by The Guild’s religious court to corrective religious learning for the rest of her life, she has been within the walls of the Jayzan Sanctuary for the last ten years.”

  Brell vaguely remembered the case at the time. It made the news channels because it was unheard of for a nun to commit murder. A relationship with a monk, nun, or local, yes, but not murder.

  “The Guild have given their permission for Meren to take part in the Challenge to show the Association how a Guild of Jayzan follower can rehabilitate themselves.”

  Yeah, right. More like they are still embarrassed by her and thought this was a good way of moving on. At least there were two other woman on the show; whether the nun would talk or just stare into space would be another thing.

  “Keep watching, we will be right back.”

  If nothing else, she had something to do now, Brell considered. How long she would last in these challenges was anyone’s guess. At least she would end her days in a different environment. No more voluntary execution meetings with an uninterested psyche interviewer. For a moment, she thought about being with Gorst and putting the past behind her. If she won that is. There was no chance, everything was being decided for her. She was only on the show to add a bit of interest.

  She rubbed her chin. Would she be able to get some intox or Deep Yellow from the guards to help her sleep? On the other hand, did it matter anymore? How many times had she said that? She lay down, placed her hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling.

  Chapter 14 - New horizons

  Sitting on the bed, Brell took another glance around her cell, her home for the last five years. The holo world helmet lay discarded on the table.

  The last two weeks had, thankfully, passed quickly. Every day she had to put up with the meal-time talk, discussing when and how she would die during the Challenge. One of the Colony 09 women declared herself a bookmaker and started taking credit and weed smoke promises off her fellow inmates.

  Williams sent through two “homework” cubes with streams, sleep audio, and details about the Challenge. There were some images of the Inhab-47 holo worlds, how they worked, the Living Room, and security arrangements within the studio complex. Language lessons were also included, as the people inside the worlds were able to respond to basic questions in their main or local language. It gave Brell an excuse to stay in her cell.

  She received three messages. One from her mother, who hadn’t been in contact for a long time, and Brell believed, just sent because of the Challenge show. Gorst, on the other hand, had left a brief message of support, which she replayed many times. Carac anticipated meeting up with her.

  The guards made a special visit that morning. “Just making sure it looks good for the show,” she was told. Other guards just happened to pop their heads around the doorway. Brell ate her last prison breakfast in her cell, as the Overseer did not want any last-minute trouble from the other inmates.

  She stuffed a few of her belongings into the one allowed bag. Hesitating over what to do with the messages from Carac, she held them in her hand for some time, before reaching a decision to throw them in the corner of the cell for the cleaner bot to dispose of.

  The chime sounded and the door beam disengaged.

  “Prisoner Sturlach, stand to,” the guard said in a more pronounced way than normal. A woman with a cheesy smile appeared.

  “Hello, I’m Argenta from Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company. I’ll be following your movements from here to the security doors.”

  Brell looked at her. Was she a virtual holo or real? She looked like a clone of Flip, with her black straight hair, orange/white skin, sparkly teeth, a sparkly blue jacket and dress. She was certainly sparkly and already annoying.

  “Now, when we go live, the door opens and you are to be brought out of your cell, through the prison, and into the transport carrier. After a short journey to the dock, you will go on board our cruiser, and when everyone is collected, off we go to the Challenge studios. Takes around eight hours. It won’t do any harm to smile and wave. You didn’t comb your hair much this morning. Ready in a couple of moments, then?”

  Brell ran her hands back through her hair. She wasn’t listening and was relieved when Argenta left the cell. She sat down and bit her nails, not knowing what to do with herself.

  “Prisoner Sturlach, stand to,” announced a guard. The door disengaged, revealing the Overseer, the annoying reporter, and assorted prison staff who had assembled in front of the cell. After the hard beam cuffs were applied, she was taken outside to a gaggle of people and floating cameras silently capturing everything.

  “So Overseer, we are just about to send Brell off on the first part of her journey, your thoughts?”

  “The staff and inmates wish her the best.” Argenta paused, waiting for something else to be said. Silence.

  Argenta looked into the camera and raised an eyebrow, “Brell, these are your first steps of a new journey, any thoughts?”

  “No.”

  “Okay then, shall we …” She nodded to the Overseer, who motioned to a guard. A narrow half-crescent band was placed behind Brell’s neck. The guard seemed to take her time. Was she enjoying this or just playing to the audience? A small beam emitted out of the crescent ends, connecting together around the front of her neck. This was a failsafe hard beam device, which could send the inmate into instant unconsciousness if they tried to escape.

  Argenta gave a running commentary, which included reminding the audience that Brell would be regarded as a convicted inmate serving her term, albeit on another planet in a game show.

  “Police Corps, together with Prison Corps officers, will take care of all security arrangements.”

  Brell peered around at the cameras that flitted around. Were her mother and old colleagues watching? How about Gorst? Pushing her feelings aside, she walked slowly down the stairway and took a quick glance back at her cell. There were guards and staff in front and behind her. No doubt, Williams was communicating via Argenta’s implant, giving instructions to choreograph this as much as possible. A few guards were in the free association area standing near to some selected inmates, Brell noted. They had locked up the Colony 09 inmates. The small crowd clapped and cheered Brell as she slowly descended step by careful step. She did her best to nod towards them, despite the restriction of the neck bracelet. There were only a few inmates that she could sensibly talk to; she would miss their humour. If nothing else, today gave the girls on Wing 90 a break from the normal drudge.

  They stopped by the security door.

  “Well, there we are. She gives nothing away. Will she be a winner or a loser? Who knows? Keep watching, we will shortly be joining Flip, who is with the next challenger.” She paused, then dropped her smile.

  “Thank you everyone. It went well.” Looking at Brell, she said, “You could have smiled a bit more.”

  Brell just stared back at her. Argenta took a step back.

  ***

  “Come, on let’s go,” said the guard pushing Brell forward. Eventually they made it outside and into a vehicle area, where Brell was placed into a prison transporter. As the van glided away, Brell watched the prison block disappear from sight with an unexpected sense of loss.

  At the port, the guards transferred her onto the prison cruiser, which would take all the prisoners up to the Good Grace star ship berthed in space dock. Up a ramp and after a right turn, she emerged into a narrow corridor lined with cells on both sides. As she approached the end of the corridor, Brell noticed that the end cell beam door was engaged, presumably occupied.

  “In there and wait for the others.”

  Ushered into the cell next door, she stood still whilst the beam cuffs were removed, but the collar remained
on. The holding cell was narrow with a long bench, a small privy and sink. The guard left, the beam entrance engaged, and there was silence.

  ***

  Brell sat back on the bench, rested her head against the wall, and closed her eyes for a while. The beam gurgle of the privy and sink in the cell next door could just be heard above the hum of the air vents. She wondered who might be in there and tapped the wall a couple of times, but received nothing in return.

  There were some footsteps and low talking in the corridor.

  “In there and wait for the others.” She heard the activation of the door beam, then a bench creak and the guard’s receding footsteps. Over a period of an hour, others arrived, but Brell could not work out who was who.

  Until Brookko made his entrance.

  It started with the sound of more footsteps and a male voice shouting out.

  “I smell a lady in here. Well, when I mean lady, I mean a Corpswoman, who has spent years in prison. Just seen you on the Beams. All that pent-up frustration. Don’t worry, I’m sure there’ll be some time for free association.” He finished with a whiny throaty laugh.

  “In there,” the guard’s voice said, more strongly than before.

  “Alright, alright, winner coming through.”

  P-zap.

  There was silence after that; he must have received a small jolt. If she had counted right, they had left him until last, did not want him to stay in the holding cell too long.

  “Prepare for take-off,” came the general announcement.

  Brell felt the low rumble of the AG engines whirling into their first gear through her feet and body, something she had not felt for a long time. The vibration was pleasing; it reminded her of the times when she went on leave. Now it was a one-way ticket to the unknown.

  Chapter 15 - Locardum

  Carac, two cells away from Brell, sat on the bed with his back to the wall. He breathed lightly and licked his lips as the engines changed sound in preparation for deep space travel. Though relieved to have left his prison cell, he did not enjoy space travel. Absent-mindedly, he brushed his hand on the bed sheet and settled back. Recalling one of his most memorable days always took his mind off space travel.