“Clang!” The iron gate leading to Prison Block E of the penitentiary automatically swung open as seven towering prison guards made their entrance into the corridor of cells. All but the leading officer bore riot shields and protective helmets, while the last two carried a rectangular, code-locked safe.
Block E was reserved for the gravest of offenders, distinct from the other areas housing lesser criminals. Here, the cell doors were solid iron with only a small window to peer through.
Despite humanity's ascent into the spacefaring age, prisoners were denied the luxuries of high technology. The cells in Nevada's maximum-security prison lacked holographic entertainment, radio broadcasts, or green food cultivated in outer space greenhouses.
Deprived of their civil rights, inmates subsisted on tasteless synthetic food and slept on antique-style bunk beds. Their daily activities were reduced to labor, exercise, and reading.
Yet, despite the rudimentary furnishings, the prison's surveillance equipment was state-of-the-art. Each inmate wore a titanium-alloy anklet transmitter, which could only be opened with a magnetic code or by severing the foot. The corridors and every nook were filled with monitoring devices, and even the vents and sewage systems were patrolled by micro-spider robots, creating an inescapable web. In the near century of the prison's history, not a single escape had been successful.
The flickering fluorescent lights cast an eerie pall over the silent corridor, unsettling even the seasoned guards of Block E.
Without pause, the seven guards moved swiftly through several iron doors to reach the heart of Block E, the "luxury suites" of solitary confinement for the condemned.
Upon entering the death row block, the guards' expressions grew solemn, the air heavy with foreboding. They approached the final restricted area of Block E.
The so-called restricted area was small, comprised of only three isolation cells. Set lower than the other cells, the sewage system converged here, and the corridor lights were dimmed to an orange hue.
The atmosphere was damp and cold, permeated with a faint stench. The dim lights cast ominous shadows from the pipes, instilling a palpable dread in all who passed.
These isolation cells were meant to punish those who broke prison rules. Even the most hardened killers felt panic at the thought of being confined here, and the weaker-willed could suffer psychological breakdowns, never daring to breach the rules again.
In truth, the isolation cells were rarely used, but after Quentin killed five fellow inmates and two guards in his third year at Nevada's penitentiary, he became the first to turn an isolation cell into his regular quarters.
The guards approached the innermost cell with visible tension, carefully drawing their ionized batons.
This cell lacked high-tech locks. The lead guard gently slid open the peephole at the top of the door and peered inside.
Unlike the standard cells, this isolation chamber had no windows, only a fist-sized vent connected to the other cells' ducts. Surprisingly, the cell was neither damp nor fetid, but warm and dry, with a hint of air freshener.
The cell's ceiling housed bulletproof fluorescent lights, and two rows of antique bookshelves were filled with paper books. The desk, bed, and toilet were present, and a wooden chess set lay atop the desk.
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A young man, seemingly thin, sat at the desk with his back to the door, engrossed in a thick tome.
The guard exhaled in relief, unlocked the door with a key from his belt, and flung open the heavy cell door. The armored guards entered cautiously, shields up.
“Quentin, time’s up!” the lead guard called out, standing three meters from the young man, baton gripped tightly.
The young man closed his book, revealing the title "Behavioral Psychology" under the bright light. The shelves and desk held a complete system of clinical medicine and psychology books.
Upon closing the book, the young man stood up, hands on his head, and turned around. Under the light, an average-faced, slender youth appeared before the guards.
Quentin, the serial killer, had unexpectedly clear and pure eyes. Perhaps due to the lack of sunlight, his skin was pale, especially his hands—long, white, and delicate, like carved jade. He seemed nothing more than a malnourished ordinary youth.
Since his arrival, Quentin had broken numerous unspoken prison rules, including killing his cellmates and guards. With severe psychological trauma and dissociative identity disorder, the isolation cell that terrified others had no effect on him. Following costly lessons, the prison, advised by psychologists, provided him a relatively "friendly" environment.
Quentin's cell was fitted with underground heating pipes to prevent dampness, and air fresheners were regularly added to the vents. The prison even provided him with books and chess to stabilize his mental state.
Without external stimuli, Quentin's intelligence was above average. In five years, he had completed a general education from elementary to university level.
However, since studying clinical medicine and psychology at eighteen, no psychologist could accurately assess his mental state.
The lead guard sighed inwardly, raising a thin, black-framed screen that held Quentin's detailed information—a simple computer used by guards to convey court orders to the condemned, jokingly called the "Elegy Envelope" by inmates.
“Quentin, male, twenty years old, formerly known as Joey Foster. The Supreme Federal Court has ruled: your appeal for a stay of execution is denied, the original verdict upheld. You are found guilty of multiple murders, stripped of all civil rights, and sentenced to death at seven this evening.”
As the verdict was read aloud, two guards opened the safe, revealing a set of steel restraints. The guards fitted the armor-like pieces onto Quentin, transforming him into an "armored knight" with only his eyes exposed.
This steam-powered restraining suit allowed only slow movement, with a three-second delay for simple actions.
“Pssht!” A jet of steam burst from the suit's knee as Quentin, now masked in steel, stepped out of the cell.
Dressed in the ridiculous, cumbersome suit, Quentin resembled a clumsy bear, escorted by the armored guards through the corridors of Block E.
His heavy steps drew the attention of other inmates, who pressed against their cell doors, watching Quentin with a mix of emotions.
"Put the black hood over his head!" the lead guard ordered as they approached the final gate of Block E.
...
Nevada's maximum-security prison was a cluster of towers hundreds of feet above ground. Between the E and D towers stretched a towering steel track, resembling an upward roller coaster track that became steeper as it ascended, ending at a right angle at the top—humanity's core technology from Genesis, the Sky Rail.
The Sky Rail was a long-distance teleportation device, with provincial, district, and stellar levels, and even the mythical interstellar Sky Rail. The base housed a sealed pod that, upon acceleration, became a beam of light sent into the sub-space between matter and antimatter for long-distance transport.
The other end of the pod's journey was another Sky Rail for reception. Apart from maglev vehicles, the Sky Rail was the standard for interprovincial travel and transport, rendering electric trains and commercial planes museum relics.
“Hiss!” The base of the Sky Rail parted, revealing a bright, modern corridor, a stark contrast to the dank prison passages.
The guards led Quentin in his steam-powered restraints into the Sky Rail pod and removed his hood.
Quentin's bright eyes, visible through the steel mask, surveyed the surroundings—an oval hall with touch-sensitive workstations and a large LCD screen at the front.
“The transport target has entered. Activate the particle analysis engine!” a soft female voice announced, the synthetic sound of the Sky Rail's computer.
“Particle scan complete, remote guidance signal confirmed, starting thirty-second countdown…”
“...3, 2, 1! Transport initiated!”
As the soft voice counted down, the pod began to shake violently. At the apex of the prison's Sky Rail, a spiral of brilliant light ignited, and the pod, now a shooting star, vanished into the sky, entering the mysterious sub-space.