Prisoner 45CW

“Here to see Prisoner 45CW.” A man in a tailored suit handed the guard a business card, “I have been appointed as his lawyer.”

“Lawyer?  Are you kidding me Mr. Skinner?” The guard laughed as he held the business card. 

“Everyone here needs a lawyer.” Skinner could not hide his annoyance with the guard.  In his experience he found most of the guards in these facilities were rude and blunt.

“Not Prisoner 45CW.  He’s just a cyborg.” The guard tossed the business card into a trash can near his desk.  

“Yeah, yeah, but the law is quite clear on this matter.” He adjusted his tie.

“The law is full of bull crap.” The guard crossed his arms over his chest. “Most of these cyborgs are just metal and circuitry.”

“What about their biological makeup?” Skinner rubbed the back of his neck.

“They ain’t human, counselor.” The guard shook his head.

“I must insist on seeing my client.” He put his hands on his hips.

“Sure, sure.  It’s the law, counselor.  I get it.” He gangled his keys and opened the main cypher door with a whoosh.  Mr. Skinner followed the guard into the hall of the Nubian Incarceration Facility or NIF Section F.  They passed dozens of cyber locked cell doors with a single window, but only a dark rectangle could be seen as they passed.  There was beige carpeting on the floor to muffle their footsteps in case any interested person would want to peer out to see who was passing. 

“This is Prisoner 45CW.” The guard halted in front of a nondescript door.  He pressed the red button at the right side and a buzzer sounded. “You’ve got a visitor.” 

A face appeared in the clear glass, but right away Mr. Skinner knew that the occupant was not a happy prisoner. 

“Step back from the door.” The guard commanded and the occupant did as he was told. Turing to Mr. Skinner, he said, “You have twenty minutes before I come back.” 

Mr. Skinner merely nodded as the cyberlock hissed as the door opened.  Unbeknownst to Mr. Skinner there was a laser over the door in case Prisoner 45CW decided to use this opportunity to make his escape.   Walking in, he was overcome with a deep feeling of claustrophobia as the door hissed behind him.

“Good evening, I am Mr. Abe Skinner, your attorney.” He held out his hand, but the prisoner just looked at it and sat on the edge of his cot.

“You are wasting your time, Mr. Skinner.” His voice was barely a growl.

“Why?” 

“Because I am guilty.” He sighed.

“No one is guilty until proven so in a court trial.” Mr. Skinner sat next to him on the cot.  Prisoner 45CW turned his head to look at Skinner before bowing his head almost between his knees. 

“So says the law, but I know for a fact that cyborgs do not fare well, do they?” He looked Mr. Skinner right in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter what has happened before.  You have a trial coming up next week.” Mr. Skinner pointed out.

“And what?  You’re going to save me?” He laughed and Skinner felt a little insulted by his laugh.  

“He is just a cyborg.” Raced through his mind, “Nothing more than a man-made, man-programed machine.”

Most humans reacted to cyborgs even though the new law put cyborgs on an even platform as humans.  The technology was remarkable and sitting viewing Prisoner 45CW, Skinner was awed by the human-like qualities of the cyborg.  No wonder that law had been put into effect, these cyborgs seemed amazingly human in almost every aspect. 

The law had been passed to remove the disassembling plant there many of them went to be destroyed after their warranty ran out.  When Abe Skinner was a younger man, he heard stories of these disassembly plants where the screams of the cyborgs could be heard night and day.  

“As I look at you, Mr. Skinner, I see that I am a lot like you.” He folded his hands between his knees. “I do not expect you to agree, but I can see you are a cerebral man as I consider myself to be.”

“What do you do?” Skinner asked him. 

“I am a language specialist.  I am fluent in a dozen languages.” He could not help but smile as he revealed this fact. “I work at the Hall of Nations.  I translate for the delegation.”

The Hall of Nations was just a few blocks from the prison where delegates from all over the world worked feverishly to avoid war and hostilities between the nations of the world.  A few years before he was born, there was a horrible war that nearly destroyed the entire planet.  Even now there were places that bore the scars of those dark days.  After the dust had settled, the leaders decided to create the Hall as a way to ensure the destructive forces of war would never visit again. 

“You are valuable then.” Skinner finally spoke.

“Valuable? How?” Prisoner 45CW slapped his knee with his open hand. 

“You translate the words spoken by the delegates so that we will not suffer another nuclear war.” Skinner shrugged. 

“There are dozens of other cyborgs who can do what I do.” He sighed deeply, “In fact, I have already been replaced.” 

Awkward silence filled the tiny cell.  

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Skinner, I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but I have to be honest, I am not very hopeful of the outcome.” He stood up and right away Skinner could see that the prisoner could not stand up straight without touching the ceiling with the top of his head. “Even though they passed that law with good intentions, the reality is that it has not improved our lot very much.  Six years ago it was against the law for two cyborgs to get married. When they passed that law, I immediately applied for a license.  The clerk looked at me as he handed me the license as if I was committing a crime.”

“Are you still married?” Skinner asked.

“Of course.” The prisoner smiled and shook his head, “Do you believe all that hype about cyborgs being amoral?”

“No, not really.” Skinner shook his head. 

“Say it like I’d believe you.” He coughed, “Humans never believe a single word we say. It’s okay, really, I’m used to it.” 

“I want you to trust me.  I want you to know I have your best interests in mind.” Skinner explained.

“I want to believe you, but every time I do, I am betrayed.  Just like when I got picked up.”  He shook his head and sat down on the cot again.

“You were holding stolen property.” Skinner opened his briefcase.

“Yeah, handed to me by some guy who asked me to hold on to it until he came back.”  He rubbed his forehead, “He never came back, but the police did. Told me I was holding stolen property.  I tried to explain that some guy handed it to me.  They didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Skinner sighed.

“Don’t be.  It’s why they made us.” He slapped his hand on his chest, “We will always be second-class citizens, no matter what laws get passed around here.  From what I’ve heard, it was a company of cyborgs who turned the tide of the war.”

Skinner had heard that, but it was considered a myth by most of the major news agencies, because it did not play well with the general public who felt the real heroes of the Great War were human.

“My wife even got the operation.” He remarked out of the side of his mouth.

“She did?” Skinner scratched his thinning hair line. 

“Yeah.” He pulled a picture out of the pocket of his prison trousers and handed it to Skinner. 

“She is beautiful.” Skinner remarked. Of course she was.  The factory specs on women cyborgs was to make them appealing to the eye of most male humans.  There were reports of sexual assaults, but nothing really ever came from it. Seated in her lap was a toddler.

“Her name is Hera.” He explained with a discernible catch in his throat. “My boy’s name is Heron.”

Heron would be human and this is what many considered to be a problem.  Two cyborgs raising a human child was judged to be akin to heresy. The needs of a human child could not possibly be taken care of by cyborgs and yet the majority of the domestic help were cyborgs.  

“Time is up.” The guard appeared at the door.

“Just a minute.” He handed the picture back to Prisoner 45CW.

“You had twenty minutes and I told you I’d be back.” The guard growled as the door hissed open.

“Alright.” Skinner stood up, glanced at Prisoner 45CW before walking out of the cell.  

“Abe, I am happy you are finally home.” His wife Stella greeted him at the door with a peck on his rosy cheek. “I was beginning to worry.” 

“For good reason.” His eyes dropped to his shoes, “I went to visit my client.” 

“I hate when you go there.” She shook her head.

“Has to be done.” He removed his jacket.

“You know those poor things don’t have a chance.  I don’t know why you waste your time.” She put his jacket on the coat rack in the foyer.

“We created them, you know.”  He shrugged.

“Yes, but over time they have assumed a place in society that isn’t rightfully theirs.” She pointed out. “They are just machines after all.” 

“Are they?” He retorted, “I sat next to my client and he seemed as human as I am.  They are reproducing.”

“What?  Are you serious?” She put her hand over her open mouth. 

“Another update.  Another scientific breakthrough, eh?” He collapsed in his easy chair.   She sat on the couch across from him.

“Why would they do that?” She was still in shock.

“Because they can always answers that question.”  He leaned back and closed his eyes. 

“This time, I fear, they have gone too far.” She professed with a degree of indignation.

“During the war, these things served honorably and were able to influence our noble legislators to bend the laws in their favor.” He rubbed his closed red eyes with his fingers as his head rested on the headrest. 

“I was outraged when they passed that law providing them with legal rights like we have.” She sneered.

“I was not pleased, but I am a public servant and like it or not, I must give credence to the law.” He opened his eyes and glanced at her with her face as red as he had ever seen it. “Be careful, dear, remember your blood pressure.” 

“Blood pressure be damned.” She snapped, “I am tired of letting them have rights they are not entitled to.”

“As I am, but I don’t really have a say in the matter and it is useless for me to fret about it.” He pointed his finger at her. “I sent letters to my representatives. Not a single one of them ever responded.”

“So, do we live in the country saved nearly a half century ago or are we turning over the reins to them?” She huffed and got up from the couch, disappearing in the kitchen. 

“Skinner, how is the case looking?” Mr. Alfred Dobbs asked at a staff meeting.

“I wish I had more collaboration.” He pulled some papers from his briefcase shaking his head. 

“What would help?” Dobbs asked, peering at him over the glasses pitched at the end of his nose. 

“Well, it seems he got caught holding items stolen by a couple of burglars.” He offered a half shrug.

“Have these burglars been apprehended?” Dobbs asks with a thoughtful nod. 

“Not to my knowledge.” Skinner answers.

“So they got away?” 

“It seems so.  How can they be apprehended if they appear to be innocent?” An audible sigh escapes. 

“So all we have is some hearsay evidence, his word against the state?” Dobbs rubs his multiple chins. “Seems like we have hit a brick wall.”

“What do you want me to do?” Skinner asks.

“What can we do?  Plead guilty?” Dobbs suggests.

“Presidence would suggest he’d be remanded to Cougar Island.” Skinner concluded.

“It would seem so.” Dobbs shrugged. “Trial is this week.”  He paused, “Some things are unavoidable, I’m afraid.

Cougar Island is where they sent cyborgs to be scheduled for disassembly.  Set on some foreboding rocks in the middle of a gray ocean, those remanded to this dreadful place were doomed never to return.  It had become the epitome of hopelessness.  

The unfortunate prisoners would be kept in a waiting area where one by one they would be called to the room where the disassembly would be performed.  According to the procedure, it was a quick, nearly painless operation.  The remains of the dispatched cyborg would be shipped to a laboratory where the metallic framework would be reused.  

“Abe, haven’t seen you or the missus in quite some time.” Barnaby waved as Skinner entered the apothecary, “What can I do for you?”

“I need some pure cyanide.” He answered as he walked to the counter.

“Who are we doing in?” Barnaby chuckled.

“No one.  Have some rocks that contain gold.” His face went pale as he spoke.

“Don’t say.” Barnaby pulled out a small bag filled with the white powder.

“Yeah, my brother-in-law sent it to me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Careful with this stuff.” Barnaby warned, handing him the bag, “Even if you get this on your skin, you’re going to have difficulty drawing your next breath.” 

“I’ve done it before, but thanks.” Skinner waved as he walked out of the apothecary, bag in hand. 

Prisoner 45CW was pacing the cell when Skinner came to the door.

“So are you ready?” Skinner asked.

“For what?” He answered obviously wracked with anxiety.

“It’s time for your trial.” Skinner patted his briefcase with his hand.

“I’m not sure I can go through with this.” He ran his hand nervously through his hair with his hand, “My wife came with my son.  They left about a half an hour ago. I know what’s going to happen.  I do not look forward to that boat ride to Cougar Island.  I am not afraid of dying.  I’m not afraid of what’s going to happen next, but I sure as hell hate that I won’t be there for my son.  You know there will be pressure on Hera to give him up so he can be raised by human parents.”

“I know.” Skinner sat on the cot next to him, “We have to do what we must do.”

Skinner reached into his jacket pocket and handed Prisoner 45WC the bag of white powder.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“The answer to all of your problems.” Skinner put it into the palm of his hand. “Mix it with the water they will give you before you testify.” 

“Alright and then what?” 

“Your problems will be solved.” Skinner assured him as he patted the bag still in his hand. 

“Are you setting me up?” A crooked smile crossed his face as he put the packet into his pants pockets.

“I always have your best interests at heart.” Skinner nodded as the door whooshed open.

The testimony was given both for and against the prisoner.  While the evidence was being presented, he took the packet and poured some in the water at the table.  With a health swig, he downed most of the water in his glass.  

It did not take long before the prisoner struggled to breath.  As one of the experts in cyborg behavior was presenting some facts, the prisoner stood up, gasped and fell to the floor.

Quickly a medical officer was by the prisoner’s side, but restoring his regular breathing was not possible and the prisoner slipped into unconsciousness.  His heart stopped shortly after that.

“He is gone.” The medical attendant confirmed.

Skinner reached over, the water in his glass was nearly gone, so he poured some from the pitcher.  His throat parched, he drank the water he had just poured himself.  As they carried the prisoner’s body out of the courtroom followed by a procession of reporters, Skinner began to struggle for his next breath overwhelmed by the heavy odor of almonds.  Just before the darkness set in, he realized in horror that the prisoner had not put the poison into his own glass of water, but instead had put it into the pitcher when Skinner was not watching.  

The irony was not lost on him as he and the prisoner would share the same verdict.