3

Honest or not, Grimm had been right; Alex had a choice. It was a suspicious one, yes. But the alternative was to spend a year-or-so of his life in a cockroach-infested jail cell along with a bunch of deadbeats, all because he was depressed and stupid enough to drunk-order pizza using a stolen credit card number.

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

In the end, Alex buckled. He shook hands with Grimm, and everything from that moment on went as the man had promised; plea bargain, one year inside, minimum security private-owned prison. He was transferred elsewhere within the day–by his very own personal chauffeuse, no less. A dead-eyed, vaguely Nordic-looking guard in her early thirties picked him up from jail. She introduced herself as Officer Carpenter and drove him upstate in an unmarked SUV that smelled like pine and disinfectant. She seemed like a real cold fish, Carpenter, like an extra in one of those Swedish crime dramas Alex’s friend Aries liked so much, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood himself.

After an hour or so, Carpenter pulled up in the parking lot of what looked like a crummy old motel, just off a now-defunct stretch of interstate highway. Alex didn’t know what a private penitentiary was supposed to look like, but this definitely wasn’t it. There was nothing to keep people in or out except a seven-foot chain link fence and a bored-looking security guard at the door.

Apparently, the place didn’t just look like a roadside motel; it was a roadside motel–or, at least, it had initially been built with that purpose in mind. It was little more than an old blocky building given a fresh coat of paint; a collection of twenty-or-so boxy rooms, a few offices, and a dining area. There was also a small, overgrown garden, a few trees, a few benches, and some vending machines. It was far from the best hospitality establishments, but even further from the worst penitentiary ones–and that’s what really mattered. Still, the place was eerily empty. No prisoners, no guards, no nothing.

“It’s off-season”, Officer Carpenter told him with a straight face when Alex asked her about it, as if that was the obvious answer to his question.

She took Alex to the former motel manager’s office–or the Warden’s Office, as Alex found out it was now called. There was nobody in there either. Judging from the lingering smell of aromatic pipe smoke, however, Alex could make a pretty good educated guess about who usually sat behind the heavy oak desk. Carpenter checked some kind of logbook, grabbed a key from a cabinet, and led Alex outside again.

“Okay, Rulin”, she said in a flat, bored monotone. “Welcome to the Happy Motel. Let me give you the tour. This is the yard. Those are the trees. Over there is the cafeteria. You can go eat there anytime you want. There’s some gym equipment in the back, too, if you’re into that. This is pretty much it. Tour’s over.”

“Some tour”, Alex mouthed off without even realizing it.

Carpenter stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, and got right into his face, all too eager to nip his attitude in the bud.

“Okay, smartass. Let me tell you how it’s going to be. Be nice, and it’s all going to be alright. Bust my balls, and, I will make squeal–no matter how big or tough you think you are. We clear?”

“We clear.”

“We clear, what?”

“We clear… ma’am?”

“That’s more like it. Now let me show you to your room.”

As it turned out, Alex would be spending the next dozen months of his life in Room 14, second floor, second door on the right. There wasn’t much in there besides a bed, a wardrobe, an alarm clock, and a small desk. Still, he had a big window and his own bathroom–an amenity he hadn’t expected to be able to enjoy for quite some time.

“This is where you’ll be staying. Keep it clean and tidy, and nobody will disturb you here. You can get out in the yard or go to the cafeteria whenever you want, just make sure you get permission first. There’s a phone on the wall next to your bed. Just dial zero and you’ll reach whoever is on duty. That door over there is the bathroom. I assume you already know how to use it. This leaves the casque.”

“The what now?”

“The casque. The VR gear you’ll be using. Come over here and I’ll show you.”

She opened a small cupboard by the bed and pulled out what looked like a sleek, midnight-black helmet. Alex wasn’t an expert on VR gear–that stuff was way too rich for his blood–but he was certain he’d seen nothing like that before.

“It’s simple, really” Carpenter explained. “Just put it on, lay down, and press the button that’s on the right temple. You’ll figure out the rest yourself. If you need anything, just pick up the phone and dial zero. Just… try not to, okay? Any questions?”

Judging from her glare, Alex guessed the right answer was “no”.