Deep Yellow (9 page)

Williams took a few
sips of the intox, rubbed his eyes, and made a few commands to
watch some of the highlights of the day. The reporters all had
small drone cameras hovering around so they could make comments
directly whilst walking around. The reporter from one of the
religious channels did not ask any questions and appearing bemused
at the whole thing.

"This is Xerica
Bnieeder reporting from the main stage of Convict Challenge."

Williams remembered
working with Xerica years ago; solid reporter, not given to easy
frippery. She went up to the door at the back of the stage.

"The winner will
arrive through here and then be welcomed in front of the studio
audience. The audience, who are yet to be picked, will appear as
their virtual selves, via their surround equipment from home."

Walking to the front
of the stage, she paused, then pointed out the area where the
audience would appear.

"The cell block is
situated behind the audience. The whole cell and security area is
contained within massive diamond hard glass walls and ceilings
backed up by hard beam technology. Let’s hope there is no repeat of
the security problems at the last Challenge." She looked into the
cam with a quizzical face.

"Well, one of the
murderers will win and be given their freedom, but hopefully they
will do it on the Challenge, not by digging a tunnel." Williams
groaned and hit fast forward.

"This is one of the
inmate’s cells. I’m told it is slightly larger than their normal
prison cells. I don’t have any direct experience of this
obviously."

Williams laughed. He
remembered years ago when Xerica had a run-in with the Police Corps
when a journalists party got out of hand in Elytia Central. She had
been stunned, bagged, and tagged by the Corps and spent a few hours
in the cells sobering up. Over the next few months, she hunted down
and erased virtually all images of the incident. Still, he might
invite her to the wrap-up party.

"The inmates have also
been allowed auto chefs inside their cells. This is a better one
than I have in my office. Apparently it took a lot of persuasion
before Prison Corps allowed it, but hey, all bar one of the
challengers will use it for their last meal." Xerica looked
sideways into the camera.

"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.

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.

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.