The Row

I tried to escape again last night. Not my most gallant of attempts, but it did make for good conversation at breakfast among a few of the travelers this morning.  

“Oy, did I hear you tryin’ to break out again last night Arlo?” Elwyn shouted at me across the chow hall with a mouthful of grits. “That makes number 12 yeah? I don’t know why you’re still tryin’, you’re gonna get your date moved up fool. That what you want huh?”  

A few of the men in the hall chuckled, though most were still half asleep and just waiting for their daily work assignment.  

I flashed a playful smile at him. “Shut it El, you know I can’t help myself,” I yelled back over the heads of the men sitting at the tables between us, a few of which looked more annoyed than amused. The thing about El is he never minces words. I’ve quite enjoyed him these last 6 months, even if he is 30 years my senior. He’s easy to talk to and is always good for a ‘when I was your age’ story. His snoring though, is murder. We share a thick cement wall, and it still somehow sounds like an angry water buffalo coming out of his cell in the middle of the night.  

A booming laugh escaped his mouth, along with a mix of spittle and grits. “Just speaking the truth friend,” he said before taking another over-sized bite. Not sure how he can stomach this slop so easily.  

I’ve been awaiting my final destination date for a little over 6 months. My date is exactly 280 days from the day of my sentencing. It’s really not the worst way to spend my time if I’m being honest. Better than the alternative, if you don’t count freedom. You’d think the travel agency would have more sense of urgency, but as is common with most sectors in the government, they drag their ass on almost everything. I’d stay in my cell for the rest of my days if they would let me, but somehow I don’t think they’ll be so inclined, especially to a convicted killer. It’s really just the fear of the unknown that scares most of us. 

After breakfast we lined up to get our assignments, all of which are drawn randomly, so as not to play favorites. The guards literally have us choose a scrap of paper out of a hat. Super unimaginative bunch they are that they just adopt their protocol from right out of any generic movie. They’re so lazy though, that they re-use the same pieces of paper for months, leaving the scraps ripped and tattered, with noticeable imperfections. After a while, we figure out which pieces to avoid, leaving those unlucky bastards at the back of the line with toilet or dish duty. I’m not sure if the guards realize we do this, but probably couldn’t care less either way.  

Today I spotted a red curly haired kid near the front of the line that I’ve never seen before. He was bony and pale and he stood about four inches shorter than everyone else in line. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him, as he looked so exceptionally out of place. It’s not uncommon for The Row to get a few newcomers a couple times a month, but this kid didn’t look like someone worthy of being in our notorious ensemble.   

“Who’s the ginger?” I whispered to the guy next to me, gesturing at the kid but careful not to draw attention to myself from the guards. They were already keeping a closer eye on me this morning due to my midnight ‘shenanigans’, as one of the guards so eloquently put it. 

“Never seen him,” he grunted at me. “Don’t care neither.” 

“Humph,” I muttered under my breath. Guess he has a point. After that I put him out of my mind, received my assignment (I drew cook duty), and went about my day, uninterested in anything except my next escape plan. El is right though, I will get my date moved up if I keep being a nuisance. 

That evening at dinner (one that I helped cook but still tasted like crap), I saw the kid across the chow hall. He looked nervous and unsteady, but after seeing his face, I realized he was older than I thought. Maybe around 30 or so. Freckles enveloped both his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but make a comparison to a vintage rag doll I once saw in an antique shop. He met my gaze, so I stood up and waved him over. The relief in his face made me feel sorry for him and somewhat sympathetic. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, keeping his eyes down. “I was about ready to take a page out of my high school handbook and go eat in the bathroom,” he said, his eyes remaining fixated on whatever was so interesting about the Salisbury steak.  

“Don’t mention it” I replied, watching him with curiosity. “Name’s Arlo,” I continued. “When did you get here? You arrive last night?” He slowly looked up at me, apprehension still visible.

“This morning actually, before breakfast,” he said, pushing his canned vegetables around on his tray. “Got transferred from the Salem Correction Institute up north. Spent the night riding the bus here, handcuffed to the backseat, with a gun pointed at me the whole way,” he said, sounding more annoyed than anything.  

“No shit,” I laughed. “Salem huh? I hear the guards there have sticks up their asses. Well, The Row is pretty secure, so the guards are less trigger happy here. Don’t have to worry about anyone getting out. Makes their job easier I suppose. Still hasn’t stopped me from trying to escape a bunch though,” I laughed, taking a swig of water to choke down a chunk of cold gravy. “What’s your name kid?”  

“Lucas,” he replied sheepishly. “My name is Lucas.” 

“Well Lucas, what brings you to our side of the lockup?” He looked at me uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. 

“It was an accident,” he said softly, fidgeting with a limp string bean on his fork. I never meant for him to get hurt, it just happened.” As he danced around my question he scanned the hall, making sure no one was looking at him. Maybe he didn’t realize that we are all convicted killers on The Row, and that most of us don’t judge. Some guys in here can be mean and sometimes violent, but judgmental isn’t one of our main qualities.  

“Look, you don’t have to worry about what anyone thinks of you or what you did,” I assured him. “Honestly, no one cares anyway, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.” 

Next to me I felt someone plop down. Lucas gave a startled look as El made room for himself. “This is Elwyn, El for short. He’s good people, for the most part.” I flashed a cheeky grin at El and turned back to face Lucas. “Lucas here was just about to tell me what he’s in for,” I said with a mouthful.  

El gave a paternal smile to Lucas. “Good to meet ya boy. Go on then, what’d you do?”  

“Um, well, I killed my father,” he confessed bluntly, and then immediately shifted his eyes down to the table, ashamed or embarrassed, or perhaps both. “I’d rather not go into the specifics.” 

El let out a loud, half choking laugh, and slapped his hand on the table. “Killed your daddy huh? Classic,” he said, “he probably deserved it,” still holding onto a smirk as he continued to eat. Lucas looked up at him curiously. 

 “Well, you’re definitely in the right place kid. The Row is reserved for us 'wicked ones’, or so they call us. Back before the travel agency existed, this used to be called Death Row. 

“Speak for yourself there El, I’m not wicked,” I said, annoyed. 

El looked at me, unconvinced, but continued, “anyway, some of us would stay here for years without fulfilling our sentence. Some of us died of old age, cancer, sometimes suicide, or some other way right in our cell. Eventually it got overcrowded, started overflowing with inmates. Then one day, the government started an experiment with us. After that, The Row started emptying out much faster.”  

“Experiment?” Lucas’s confused face is one of many I’ve seen. It was the look on my face when I first learned about it too. The general population on the outside knows nothing of the government’s little science experiment.

“And I’m part of it now?” He asked nervously.  

“Yeah basically. You’re one of the guinea pigs, but don’t worry, you’re in good company,” El winked at him. “Since you just got here this morning, I’m guessing you’ll get debriefed soon, but I’ll fill you in a little. See, about 15 years ago,” he went on, “the science community developed a way to travel to the future.” He stopped, letting that statement resonate with Lucas.  

“I’m sorry. What now?” Lucas said with an amused look on his face, obviously thinking El was joking. 

“I know, it’s hard to understand, but it’s true kid, every word.”

“No, that was a conspiracy theory, I remember my parents talking about it when I was a kid. It was all debunked as a hoax. Time travel can’t be possible,” he stated matter-of-factly.  

“It seems like it huh? I was just as skeptical as you, but they kept it under wraps because if the world knew, who knows what would happen. There could be mass rioting, anarchy, you name it. Everyone wanting the chance to go back and fix their mistakes, see loved ones who passed, or whatever else people would do with their second chance,” I chimed in. 

“Okay, let’s say that time travel does exists, what does that have to do with us?” Lucas said, not looking completely convinced. “And where do we travel to? Do we all go to the same place?” He asked. “Do we go backward or forward in time? 

El laughed, “slow down boy. They’ll tell you everything when you get debriefed, but basically, we do all go to the same place. Where that is, no one knows until they arrive. It’s not like anyone has come back to tell us, because one thing you’ll get told at your debrief, is that once you’re gone, you never get to come back. Isn't that some fine print for ya.” 

“Yeah, so at your sentencing you’ll be given a ‘final destination’ date. Mine is 280 days from my sentencing” I said, studying his face. That was 189 days ago. “When is your sentencing?” 

“It’s in a week,” Lucas said, uninterested in anything on his tray now. 

“Okay boy, so you’ll get your date next week then,” El chimed. 

“You lot finish up. I better not see even one piece of trash on the floor, or you’ll all come back and clean this hall with your own toothbrushes!” One of the guards yelled. “New kid, he continued. “With me.” 

“It was good to meet you Lucas,” I said, standing up. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Don’t worry boy, it’s not as bad as it seems.” El gave him a pat on the shoulder. With that, we cleared our trays and got in line to be sent back to our cells, except Lucas, who was being escorted somewhere else.

That night, as I listened to El’s obnoxious symphony of sounds, I thought about our conversation with Lucas. I wondered where he went after dinner, or what cell he would be in. They probably just took him for his debrief. I remember mine like it was yesterday. I had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that we were all going to be time travelers. I realized that I was more nervous than anything about traveling to some distant future, one that I can never leave. I have no idea what they have in store for us, and not knowing is unbearable sometimes. 

As I began drifting off to sleep, my cell door opened, and two guards came in and ordered me to stand up. Their faces expressionless. I followed them in terrified silence through the corridors and across the hall, as the rest of the men slept. 

“This is it,” I muttered under my breath. El had been right. My attempts at escaping had moved my date up, to tonight apparently. Why did I have to be so stupid. Travelers do generally leave at night, so as not to cause any commotion among the others. Then, the next morning, they’re just gone. I wish I had the chance to say goodbye to El. 

“Ah, Arlo,” a woman’s voice said as I walked into a sterile white room I had never seen before. I didn’t know anything was capable of being so clean in this place. “It’s your lucky night,” She continued, with an phony smile. “I work for the travel agency. Tonight, you'll finally be on your way. If you don’t mind, please step up to the blue X on the floor.” 

I walked over to the blue X apprehensively and waited as she made a motion toward two other guards I failed to notice when I walked in. One of them pressed a large blue button on the wall I was facing, causing the entire wall to open up, like two doors of an elevator. When it was completely open, I realized it looked exactly like an elevator. It was plain, white, and had four walls, except there was a white leather chair in the middle of the platform. 

“I’m going in there?” I asked slowly as my voice cracked. 

“Yes, the woman said.” I never caught her name, but I guess it didn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t be seeing her again. “You are to step onto the platform and sit down in the chair, at which time we will secure you before closing the doors. Your only job is to sit still. A sleeping gas will be released into the chamber, but don’t worry, I promise you’ll wake up,” she joked halfheartedly. “Are you ready?” She asked before giving me a nudge. 

“Wow, you guys don’t waste any time,” I said, stunned at how fast this process was. I don’t know why they give us such a long date if the process is this quick. “Don’t I need to fill out some paperwork or something?” 

“All of the paperwork has been taken care of. "Now sit down, stay still, and safe travels,” she said coolly, like she had done this 100 times. 

The guards escorted me into the chamber, sat me down, and strapped down my wrists and ankles. Then, they walked out, and one of them walked over and pressed the blue button again. Just then, gas began emitting from the top vents, just like she said. My body began to feel tingly and weightless, my eyes began to droop, and the white chamber began disappearing into the darkness.  

I’m not sure how long I was asleep, it seemed like only seconds. I opened my eyes slowly and tried to grasp my bearings. I was still strapped to the chair in the white chamber. Just then, the doors slowly began to open. As the world came into focus, a young scrawny man walked toward me. It was Lucas. 

“Lucas?” I said, my mouth gaping open as I sat there stunned. 

“Hello Arlo,” Lucas said, beginning to unstrap me from the chair. “It’s good to see you. Welcome to the year 2473.” 

I tried to speak but nothing came out. Finally, I managed, “how?” 

Lucas smiled. “I’m a jumper,” he said. “I go back and forth between times, vetting prisoners I deem ‘decent,’ to come and join our time. I disguise myself as a prisoner to get to know you. It’s always fun to play someone new and pick out a new story as to how I ended up on death row. Sometimes I stay for a couple of weeks, sometimes just a day. I’ve gotten pretty good at it and I can usually spot a good one pretty early on. When you called me over to sit with you, I was intrigued. Not many have done that to me. El on the other hand, I was skeptical of. The comment about my ‘father’ deserving his fate was a little concerning. 

“Why?” I asked, regaining my composure. “Why prisoners?” 

“About 200 years ago, our population was reduced by 85% due to a catastrophic event. We needed to rebuild and repopulate, and as crazy as it seems, prisoners on death row are the best way to do that. They’ve already been exiled, and they crave a second chance, a chance to prove themselves. They have nothing to lose, can’t re-assimilate into society, and have usually lost their friends and family due to shame or embarrassment,” he explained. “In your time, your government is dealing with mass overpopulation, and we obviously do not have that problem, so our governments struck a deal. Of course, yours wanted to keep their good, outstanding citizens that contribute and are useful in society, but the prisons were overflowing. Therefore, we didn’t have the luxury of being picky. We decided to take the chance. So far, it's been a success."

“You’ll go through a year of preparation where you’ll be evaluated, taught about our history, how to use our advanced technology, and complete work placement training. You will then be released into our society to begin contributing as a citizen of 2473. You will be monitored closely for three years until we feel you are not a threat.” 

I looked at him, still trying to comprehend everything. “I’m free?” I asked in disbelief. 

“You will be,” he replied. “But Arlo,” he started. “Make better choices.”