‘You’d just tear Level 7 in half.’
‘Ah, I hadn’t foreseen that,’ The Oracle ran his fingers down his nose. ‘But I just know you’ll come up with something else clever. An even better idea. Just in the nick of time.’ He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Waiting.
‘I already have come up with something.’ 428 was running for the door. ‘I’m going to release the clamps on manual.’
A Custodian blocked his exit.
‘Get this thing out of my way,’ 428 snapped.
‘He is a prisoner, sir.’ Bentley was moving over swiftly, her soft voice almost lost in the constant blare of the alarms. She was making it easy for me. Do nothing. Obey Protocols. Let it go. We tried. It didn’t work. Never mind. We’d all go down together. No one could blame us.
This time 428 hadn’t even fully turned around before I spoke.
‘Custodian, stand down. Prisoner 428 is engaged in Governor Authorised Work Duty.’ The Custodian hesitated. I wasn’t used to this. ‘I repeat, this has Governor Authorisation. Let him pass. No, in fact, go with him, assist him.’
The Custodian processed this and moved to one side, springing some antennae that were, I’m sure, supposed to be helpful but looked rather formidable.
‘Ah, splendid,’ 428 eyed them warily, ‘I’d rather go alone if it’s all the same to you.’
I could have gone back to my office to watch, but I remained in the Control Station, watching on the large screen along with everyone else. We could track 428 racing from camera to camera, hurtling his way down through the Prison. Someone had put an overlay up to show how much time had elapsed. As he ran, 428 was yelling. He clearly had excellent lung capacity, or was used to giving orders while running at high speed.
‘This is not an order. I know you don’t like them. So this is a request. I’m going to do what I can to release Level 7. I would like you to consider … just consider, mind … putting as many of the Prisoners as you can onto Level 7 before it leaves. We are turning it into a life raft. I do think, don’t you, that no matter what people have done, they deserve a chance. But it’s just a suggestion. Barely more than a hint.’
He stopped in his pell-mell scramble, ducking into a workshop where he grabbed some breath, a wrench and a blowtorch.
‘I need these,’ he said, not even turning to the camera as he rifled through drawers, stuffing thingsinto his pockets. ‘Can you release the security coding on any objects I remove from the workshop? Don’t want the system setting off lots of alarms and keeping me hanging around waiting like a shoplifting granny, do we?’ He turned, and his smile was all charm.
Bentley looked at me. I nodded. The security barriers at the door to the workshop deactivated.
‘Splendid,’ said 428, grabbing a trolley. ‘In that case, I’ve always wanted to win a supermarket sweep,’ And he was off, running with an anti-grav trolley hastily crammed full of tools banging down the stairs.
He made it in a minute and a half. Other cameras showed Bentley’s Guardians herding Prisoners into Level 7. I had expected more of a discussion (at some volume) about this.
‘I think it’s the right thing to do,’ I had said.
‘Is that your order, Governor?’ Bentley had asked. I tried to work out her tone, but it was flat. Carefully flat.
I’d nodded. ‘And as many Guardians, of course, as wish to go.’
Bentley had coughed. ‘I believe I speak for us all when I say that we would prefer to stay. To try and resolve this situation and to tend for those Prisoners unable to board Level 7.’
‘That’s very noble of you,’ I said to Bentley. ‘But, obviously, if any Guardians feel that … Well, it’s opento you all.’
There were nods, but no one looked at me. I think they were all deciding whether they wanted to live or die. And that should always be a private decision.
A camera finally found Prisoner 428. His wiry figure was squeezed into a service
‘Ah, I hadn’t foreseen that,’ The Oracle ran his fingers down his nose. ‘But I just know you’ll come up with something else clever. An even better idea. Just in the nick of time.’ He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Waiting.
‘I already have come up with something.’ 428 was running for the door. ‘I’m going to release the clamps on manual.’
A Custodian blocked his exit.
‘Get this thing out of my way,’ 428 snapped.
‘He is a prisoner, sir.’ Bentley was moving over swiftly, her soft voice almost lost in the constant blare of the alarms. She was making it easy for me. Do nothing. Obey Protocols. Let it go. We tried. It didn’t work. Never mind. We’d all go down together. No one could blame us.
This time 428 hadn’t even fully turned around before I spoke.
‘Custodian, stand down. Prisoner 428 is engaged in Governor Authorised Work Duty.’ The Custodian hesitated. I wasn’t used to this. ‘I repeat, this has Governor Authorisation. Let him pass. No, in fact, go with him, assist him.’
The Custodian processed this and moved to one side, springing some antennae that were, I’m sure, supposed to be helpful but looked rather formidable.
‘Ah, splendid,’ 428 eyed them warily, ‘I’d rather go alone if it’s all the same to you.’
I could have gone back to my office to watch, but I remained in the Control Station, watching on the large screen along with everyone else. We could track 428 racing from camera to camera, hurtling his way down through the Prison. Someone had put an overlay up to show how much time had elapsed. As he ran, 428 was yelling. He clearly had excellent lung capacity, or was used to giving orders while running at high speed.
‘This is not an order. I know you don’t like them. So this is a request. I’m going to do what I can to release Level 7. I would like you to consider … just consider, mind … putting as many of the Prisoners as you can onto Level 7 before it leaves. We are turning it into a life raft. I do think, don’t you, that no matter what people have done, they deserve a chance. But it’s just a suggestion. Barely more than a hint.’
He stopped in his pell-mell scramble, ducking into a workshop where he grabbed some breath, a wrench and a blowtorch.
‘I need these,’ he said, not even turning to the camera as he rifled through drawers, stuffing thingsinto his pockets. ‘Can you release the security coding on any objects I remove from the workshop? Don’t want the system setting off lots of alarms and keeping me hanging around waiting like a shoplifting granny, do we?’ He turned, and his smile was all charm.
Bentley looked at me. I nodded. The security barriers at the door to the workshop deactivated.
‘Splendid,’ said 428, grabbing a trolley. ‘In that case, I’ve always wanted to win a supermarket sweep,’ And he was off, running with an anti-grav trolley hastily crammed full of tools banging down the stairs.
He made it in a minute and a half. Other cameras showed Bentley’s Guardians herding Prisoners into Level 7. I had expected more of a discussion (at some volume) about this.
‘I think it’s the right thing to do,’ I had said.
‘Is that your order, Governor?’ Bentley had asked. I tried to work out her tone, but it was flat. Carefully flat.
I’d nodded. ‘And as many Guardians, of course, as wish to go.’
Bentley had coughed. ‘I believe I speak for us all when I say that we would prefer to stay. To try and resolve this situation and to tend for those Prisoners unable to board Level 7.’
‘That’s very noble of you,’ I said to Bentley. ‘But, obviously, if any Guardians feel that … Well, it’s opento you all.’
There were nods, but no one looked at me. I think they were all deciding whether they wanted to live or die. And that should always be a private decision.
A camera finally found Prisoner 428. His wiry figure was squeezed into a service
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