by Thomas Green
I nodded. “Then I will need to adjust his shackles. They are fixed too tight, which would make his muscles atrophy.”
“I don’t see the problem with that,” Jasika snapped, her voice sharp.
“I understand you, Wife.” The mixed emotions in my chest did not help my tone. But I had principles I had long since decided to keep. “I have sworn the Hippocratic Oath and will live up to those words.”
Her lips rolled up in disgust. “You should stop binding yourself by rules for mortals.”
Not today, not tomorrow, and hopefully not ever. The older I grew, the more those principles meant to me. In silence, I loosened the irons binding Lucas. That would not allow him to escape, but the extra space combined with his trembling would stop his muscles from withering. No matter my feelings or our shared past, I would not abandon my principles for a price as petty as revenge. “We can go,” I said and rose.
“Good.” Apollo smiled. “This place gives me the creeps. At least he deserves to be here.”
“He does indeed,” I said with the same professional smile I always wore.
As I turned to leave, Jasika slid behind me so Apollo couldn’t see her and drove her foot into Lucas’s crotch. His body jerked in the binds and a thud echoed through the cell.
“What was that?” Apollo asked.
“Water pipes, most likely,” I said and walked out.
With a satisfied smile, Jasika followed me. Accompanied by Apollo, we returned to the Medical Ward, cleaned up the treatment room, and returned to the Upper Prison. Our duty was over.
At the end of the elevator, the changing room welcomed us. We switched to our usual clothes. While white was not my preferred color, it was what everyone wore, so I donned my white suit, shirt, and formal shoes. I put on a matching tie, straightened my mustache and arranged my hair with my hand.
Jasika changed into her dress, a dashing, bronze-colored dress embellished with gold. With her golden necklace, earrings, and anklets, she looked downright divine. We put our work clothes into our lockers and passed through the door.
A thick carpet welcomed us back to our habitat. Painting displaying the sky covered the entire ceiling, so livid one could forget the clouds were merely art. Flowers and statues besieged the walls and the other prisoners moved through the vast hall, gathering on the seats descending in rows. Luxury defined the Upper Prison. For someone unaware of this being a prison, the place would pass for a royal castle.
The arrangement behind this was simple, truly. The prisoners with the highest amount of extractable aether were offered a life of luxury in exchange for obedience and work inside the prison. Since nobody has ever escaped the prison and I possessed the soul of Vishnu, a higher god, the decision came naturally.
In the Upper Prison lived two hundred prisoners. Much like the four hundred prisoners in each of the Lower Prison’s parts, the number was fixed. The selection was, in its essence, the survival of the fittest. Should prisoners beyond the prison’s capacity be brought here, the weakest were killed to make space. And thus, Lucas killing some prisoners wasn’t, horrific to say, a big deal. New prisoners arrived every month, meaning some prisoners had to die every month.
Jasika grabbed me by the hand, pulling me forward. “Come, let’s go watch the match.”
I had no desire to do so. Yet a single glance at her swaying hips dispelled my resistance. Fashioned like the ancient coliseums, the seats were organized into circular, descending rows and the fighting pit lay beneath.
To amuse those of the Upper Prison, the prisoners from the Lower Prison fought in a perpetual league. Two events were held each week. The matches weren’t fought to the death aside for special occasions, like when Hades needed to cull the number of prisoners to accommodate new arrivals. Usually, the winner received time in the hobby rooms, where he could pick from a set of activities and spend a day. Most chose some sort of art, be it painting, woodcarving, or sculpting. Not much of a reward, but enough to ensure a fierce competition.
I detested these matches.
But Jasika loved them, and so I had to attend. Luckily, they served mostly as a socializing event. As she searched for free seats, I tugged on her hand. “There.” I led her through and sat next to the newest member of the upper prison.
Sora Izanagi wore a white suit, like the rest of us, and sat calmly on the bench with his hands folded in his lap. Jasika stopped before we reached the seat, greeting Persephone, an original Greek goddess and Hades’s wife.
I left them to the pleasantries and sat down next to the Japanese demigod. “I believe we haven’t yet met in a civil setting. Amarendra Vishnu,” I said and extended my hand.
“Sora,” he replied and shook my hand. The last time I saw him was four days ago during the physical checkup he had to undergo to advance to the Upper Prison. Lucas killing guards made space which needed to be filled.
I sat down and motioned with my head at the bar containing glasses of champagne. “How has the Upper Prison been treating you?”
“Better than the lower one.”
Not a man of small talk. I still had to navigate this conversation carefully. “Sorry for asking so bluntly, but for what were you sentenced to Tul Sar Naar?”
“Murder.” He eyed me for long moment. “I tried to change the world but trusted the wrong man.”
“Have you killed that man?”
He shook his head. “He suffers more like this. Two weeks straight in an extraction chamber are worse than death.”
Why was I not surprised Lucas was the one who arrested Sora? By the rumors, the two of them were brought in on the same day and shared bad blood from the first minute. “And he is bound to get more.”
“Indeed.” Sora flashed a smile. “He never stays out of trouble for long.”
“So I have heard.” But not witnessed. If Lucas got into trouble as often as Sora said, I would have met him in the Medical Ward or during other checkups in extraction. That I hadn’t meant Sora was largely exaggerating. I relaxed into the seat. “Funny for us to meet, given we have been sent here by the same man.”
“That’s not so improbable, given Lucas has sent over seventy men here in the past year alone.”
Such was the legend, indeed. Its second part said those he sent here were the lucky ones as the rest received a bullet in the head. I opened my mouth for a reply, but Jasika returned to my side, bringing us glasses. Changing my thought, I said, “Allow me introduce you. Jasika Kali, my beloved wife, meet Sora Izanagi.”
She shook his hand with a smile and sat down next to me, crossing her legs. “Izanagi… the head of the Shinto pantheon, right?”
A sour smile passed Sora’s lips. “We are no gods.”
“But our ancestors were,” Jasika said. “And we can ascend to their glory. In the end, that is precisely why the Hand of God keeps us imprisoned here, to keep the old faiths dead.”
Sora paused for a moment, as if mulling the thought over. “Nicely said.”
I exchanged a commiserating glance with him. Yes, we were no gods, but few in the Upper Prison shared the opinion.
Clicking of heels approached from Jasika’s side. I raised my eyes, gazing at Persephone’s perfect beauty. Dressed in an ivory dress complemented by golden jewelry embedded with rubies, she was a sight to behold.
Yet the man walking behind her prevented me from staring. Hades wore a black suit, matching shirt, and a bright red tie. His hair fell to his shoulders, and dark green eyes sat above his perfectly trimmed beard, colored to conceal the underlying gray streaks.
Hades and Persephone were the founders of Tul Sar Naar and the world’s last two original gods. The rest of us were humans who absorbed a dead god’s soul from a soul crystal. Legends said Lucielle, the Devil, and the owner of this facility wiped out the pantheons of old gods but allowed Hades to live to turn Tartarus into this prison. He has been this place’s overseer ever since.
Overseer was an entertaining word for the first prisoner.
Persephone sat next to Jasika, engaging
in a vivid discussion about the upcoming match.
With unforced elegance, Hades nodded a greeting and passed in front of me, claiming the seat next to Sora. “I have yet to properly welcome you to the Upper Prison,” Hades said in a conversational tone.
Sora bowed ever so slightly. “Thank you for accepting me.”
“You have earned your place.”
Sora remained silent for a moment, his eyes gazing nowhere. “If I am to be blunt, I have three friends remaining in the Lower Prison. They are all demigods like me, so I’ve been wondering if a path that could lead them up here didn’t exist.”
“There are many paths to Olympus,” Hades said with a broadening smile. “Most are paved with excellent behavior and contributions to our community.”
Sora nodded. “Thank you.”
“From other matters, before the competition begins,” Hades said, turning his gaze toward me. “How is Ricardo’s ankle?”
“Uncertain,” I replied to buy myself time to consider my words. Yes, I gave Ricardo false hope, but if Hades were to cancel his match, I would lose a part of my credibility as the lie would become obvious. “There is a chance it will recover in time for his next fight.”
“A chance?” Hades arched an eyebrow. “That does not sound promising, given his fight against Ares is supposed to be next week’s main event.”
I looked at my hands, my fingers intertwined. “Sadly, no. Even with powerful sedatives, he will not be able to fight someone as strong as Ares.”
“Yet taking him off the card would disrupt the planned schedule,” Hades pointed out.
Sora cleared his throat. “Perhaps, he could fight a weaker opponent. By what Dr. Vishnu said, he should be able to handle that, and the schedule could thus remain unchanged.”
I nodded.
Hades ran his hand through his beard. “Yes, that could work. If I recall correctly, Loki is supposed to fight an elder werewolf on the same day. Perhaps the weaker gods could fight each other while Ares’s match against the werewolf might prove entertaining.”
“If I remember the werewolf correctly,” Sora said. “That should indeed be the case.”
Hades nodded and his teeth flashed in a smile. “Very well then. In case Ricardo’s recovery isn’t sufficient, swapping him for another man wouldn’t be a problem when he isn’t the main event.” He glanced at me. “Keep me updated, Doctor.”
“Of course, Sir.” I bowed slightly.
“Excellent. From other matters, how is our dearest fallen angel doing?” Hades asked.
“Lucifer’s alive, though in great pain,” I said.
“Why not put down the beast?” Sora asked. “He is little more than that.”
“I agree on the assessment.” Hades measured Sora with a stare. “Yet he possesses enough aether to be highly profitable.”
And there would be a massive political backlash due to Lucas being well-connected to Lucielle. I didn’t know the details, but my own imprisonment was the result of his dealing with her. She may have imprisoned him here, but there was bound to be an ulterior motive creeping underneath the facade. Killing him would rob her of that motive and the Devil would not be amused.
Sora grunted, obviously dissatisfied with the answer. “Why not remove his memories then? As far as I understand the extraction device, it should be capable of that.”
Hades frowned. “I truly wish it could.”
“Then can’t you use some prisoner to achieve the same effect?” Sora pressed on.
“There’s only one capable of doing so and she’s awfully uncooperative,” Hades said.
Trumpets thundered through the air. The match was about to begin, which ended our discussion. Shame. The chat was entertaining, yet the match was going to be as boring as all the others.
Later that night, I lay in bed with Jasika sprawling across my chest. We were both naked and covered in sweat. I panted, recovering from today’s execution of my marriage duties.
She gently ran her finger by my collar bone. “Tell me, Love, you aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“No.” I arched an eyebrow. “What gave you the idea?”
“You lied to Ricardo today and then to Hades. That was an unnecessary risk.”
If Hades became displeased, he could throw us back to the Lower Prison at any time. In that case, the path back here would be forever lost. “I didn’t want to crush Ricardo’s hopes. He’s been preparing to fight Ares for months, so robbing him of all hope would’ve been cruel.”
“You are too kind.” Her gaze sharpened. “But I don’t believe it’s just that.” She dug her nail into my chest, right above my heart. “You are thinking of escaping.”
I put on the professional smile. “Aren’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid, Love.” She scowled. “Nobody has ever escaped from here and even if we could, for what? We lack nothing here.”
And that was this trap’s charm. Yes, we lacked nothing. The Upper Prison contained every imaginable luxury. While the extraction device was set to torture the members of the Lower Prison, we embarked on illusionary adventures during the time we gave away our aether. I voluntarily stayed in my last extraction for two days longer because I was climbing on Mt. Everest and didn’t reach the summit during the first three days. “Don’t you want to see our home? To visit Mumbai?”
Her jaw clenched and eyes lost the carefree shine. “I’m never returning to that slum.”
Slum, that was where we grew up. We met on the streets when we were six. Only through the kindness of a man we once robbed could we attend a high school. And then I got a stipend from Columbia University, so we moved to New York. Busy while building a career, I kept postponing the visit to our home. I will go there next year was the excuse of choice, and the years went on while my home became a distant memory. Yet even now, over twenty-five years after we left Mumbai, something still burned within me, longing to visit those slums at least once more. “What about other places? You always loved to travel.”
“I can visit any place I want through the extraction device.” She waved the thought away with her hand. “Plus, we are now ageless. We can leave humans to their filth and live here for at least a few centuries.”
We indeed could as time meant nothing to us. “You are right, Wife.” I pushed my head forward and she kissed me, her tongue gently stroking mine.
Once she detached, her expression hardened again. “Promise me you won’t jeopardize our life here.”
“I promise.”
She kissed me once more and pushed her crotch into mine. “Good. Ready for the second round?”
“With you, Love, always.”
A week later, I sat in my office, holding two RTG scans in my hands. Ricardo’s ankle improved, but only marginally. A crushed bone had no way to heal, divine soul or not. I stared at the pictures, wondering what to do. The logical path was to tell Ricardo there was nothing I could do for him, to tell Hades the same and have him find another opponent for Loki.
But… Lucas crushed Ricardo’s ankle knowing I was on duty that day and would thus become his tending physician. He also knew Ricardo was to fight Ares in two weeks. He could have also assumed Hades would swap the matches to make Ricardo fight against Loki, Lucas’s cell mate, or at least consider it depending on what information I fed the Overseer.
By these hints, this was all a part of some plan, one that Lucas hoped would yield him freedom. And in this very moment, I had to make the decision to participate. If I cleared Ricardo to fight, I would implicitly join the escape plan. Otherwise, Lucas would make a new plan, one which wouldn’t include any space for my participation.
I sighed. Why did I even consider this challenge from the man who sent me here?
Because I wanted to be free.
A part of me wanted to visit my home slums in Mumbai, another part missed my oncology clinic, a different one missed my home in Queens, and the skin beneath my collar kept itching. I haven’t taken in the soul of Vishnu to sit in a prison, leavi
ng all the people believing in his legacy to fend for themselves.
But I also wanted to live up to the promise I gave to my wife. After being together for over thirty years, my promises to her weren’t empty words.
Then again, clearing Ricardo wouldn’t jeopardize my position in any way. I rose and reached for the cabinet with files. In a few swift moves, I took out the file of a guard who broke his ankle last year. I switched the current scan of Ricardo’s ankle with that one and returned the file to its place.
The dream of freedom had yet to die within me. Perhaps, if I let this go through, I would either reach freedom or watch Lucas fail, confirming no one could indeed escape from here.
I put the pictures on the table and exited the office.
Ricardo met me with eyes full of expectations while Jasika’s were narrowed into slits. “How’s it looking, Doc?” he asked.
“Not great,” I said. “Your ankle is far from healed.”
His face slackened. “I can almost walk. Come on, Doctor, there must be something you could give me so I could fight today.”
I shrugged. “We can give you sedatives. Those would dull your mind, but also your pain. Although there is a significant risk your ankle could suffer permanent damage if stressed.”
“I’m fighting Loki, so that won’t happen.” Ricardo grinned. “Give me the sedatives, please.”
If glaring could kill, Jasika would have murdered me. She empathically placed her hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. “I’ll prepare the shot. I just need to talk to the doctor for a moment.”
“Indeed,” I said and motioned toward my office, wearing the professional smile. Out of all the skills I have learned during my medical career, the fake smile has been the one I used the most. I was not proud.
We walked to the office. The second the door closed, Jasika spun toward me, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing?”
The accusation in her voice was clear. But I was prepared. Slowly, I advanced toward my table. “Giving him a chance. Yes, the ankle is not fully healed, but with enough sedatives, he will be able to fight.”
“The ankle had at least one completely crushed bone.” She glowered at me, following me with her eyes like a cobra would track a hamster. “Why are you doing this?”
