The treatment of prisoners wasn't always the kindest. Troy had known that since he was a young lad, knowing what could be done to those disliked by society. The looks of distaste, the frowns of having to be close to the poor, the misunderstandings that made the common people think of them as outright lazy, and everything else that could be thought of had made Troy the person he was today, understanding that misguided information on the subject had created so many problems.

Even the term of prisoners was hard to define. Most thought of it as those being in prison, those who were without the freedom to move around the world. Troy had broadened that term in his own head a small bit more, thinking that the true prisoners as those who didn't even need a cage to keep them locked up. The lack of freedom to move was not one that required a physical cage after all, even if that cage helped tremendously in other people being aware of it being there. Those who were poorer, those who couldn't afford to take a step out of the city, and the one who could barely afford to breathe too deeply due to the extra expended calories made true imprisonment be seen.

Most had to sit in their chairs all day so that they wouldn't starve, not being able to actually die for it either way. Instead of getting down two meters in the ground, the government would come along during the last seconds and force a tube down their throat for a few weeks, force-feeding them disgusting gruel that would have made anybody that had any sense of taste vomit. Not that those fed it could taste anyhow, most not having tongues, the things having been cut out so they wouldn't have to taste at all. Repeated trauma made the people aware of absurd solutions, after all, and nobody wanted to wait for suffering to come periodically.

Going away from the mental imprisonment that was the lower class, however, Troy still had more than a few thoughts about the physical cages that could hold people in, and how the people inside were treated. He hadn't been inside actual prisons before, making him unable to truly say he had seen it all for himself. However, he did live beside many who had, he had talked with many that blabbered on about it, and he had seen the videos of how the officers saw the inmates.

There was more than a couple of good reasons filming inside government locations had been restricted heavily. One of those was, of course, to stop sensitive information from leaking. There was no need for outside spies to look inside and broadcast all the technological secrets out into the world. And… that was perfectly valid to have when restricting the recording abilities of everybody in those locations. Troy had certainly seen it as such, knowing just how much there was to hide when ti came to technology.

But he also knew just how much there was to hide on the other end of the spectrum. Instead of thinking about the grander projects, the large piece of technology meant to save the world, the man instead thought of the individual treatment of the people inside. Instead of thinking about the researches, scientists, and administrators meant to keep the country advanced, Troy thought of the guards, the officers, and the criminal supervisors meant to keep the country safe. What really occurred inside those massive cement walls?

There were only so many of those large prisons in the world, with all the talk about removing them entirely. It was expensive to house the prisoners, after all, and making them restrained to a house out in the wild was much better. However, some were still thrown in a cell, and it was those who likely had it hard.

What were they seen as? What did the rich and wealthy think of the one stealing a piece of bread? The rich would likely think of them like an idiot, wondering why they hadn't just bought one instead of trying to get it for free. The bread was cheap, after all, massively manufactured to make them cost under a dollar for each piece. But the rich likewise couldn't understand what it was like to live with negative wealth, each dollar earned only lessening a debt that couldn't help but double each month. That bread was enough to keep oneself without gruel for a week.

Not that the rich or the officers would ever truly understand, close to all of them coming from wealthy points of life. That was an intentional decision by the government, even if that fact wasn't discussed too eagerly these days. The government didn't want sympathy to rain down upon the criminals, lest the officers would simply see the system for what it was, an algorithm meant to punish those without any other choice in life.

So… they looked down on the thieves, the criminals, those who stole, and those who huddled in corners hoping for their bread to not mould too quickly. Some of the offices were kind, only seeing them as somebody who had gone down the wrong way in life. There would be some minor sympathy, yet they would still end up thinking that the lack of choice was entirely the person’s fault. Those who lied on the more average, extreme end thought of the criminals as idiots, those rampant on the desire for crime, never needing anything other than a hit to the head since that would likely do more good than bad.

And if one hit to the head did more good than bad, what would ten do? With a thousand, could a drug addict become a well-standing account manager? Well… the answer was a pretty obvious no, but that certainly didn't stop some jailors to see if ten thousand did the trick. Or maybe a million through the process of several years. It was all one long beating, the officers needing something to do when punished with working around the clock, looking over worthless people.

Troy was never happy when thinking about the recordings that had come out. He had seen what those beating were like, how some people lacked teeth needed to chew, how their noses had been allowed to heal right, how their eyes were without good vision. Bones broken, again and again, forced to align the wrong way and making a man permanently crippled. The process of such had been shown again and again with different people, different officers, and different locations. It was quite the wide-received event, as so many people had done it that it was hard to point out who truly started it.

That was why the recording became illegal. If they were done by anybody who wasn't involved in the beatings, they had the chance of being shown off to the public. If the public were shown how the prisoners were treated… well, there was a chance of some sympathy for them. What would the other countries think, when the people actually saw the poor as animals? The hypocrisy of it all!

The government had been quick on the trigger with that ban when the leaks finally began to get some minor attention. Not that they ever got into the mainstream, as the government had sent out more than enough threats to the news agencies to make them shut up. Even the few minor channels that had run the story had suddenly found themselves shut off the network, never being heard from again. People never talked about it, never mentioned it. There was no need to talk about something that had never happened after all.

People were broken, made into toys for the bored working class, and constantly looked down upon. It was a hard tale to tell and hard to believe as well. Yet Troy had met many, had seen how people ended up walking after two years in a cell. There was next to no violence between inmates anymore, any who dared look another in the eyes beaten to the brink of death by trigger-happy sadists.

It was a terrible thing, made to make terrible people happy. Troy wasn't a part of it directly, yet he knew so many that was that it was basically the same thing. The weak were made weaker as entertainment, and they were derided for never standing up for themselves. They couldn't stand up for themselves! Any attempt to do so would only give them a few months in a cell, before being sent out a cripple. Prisons were but a place to make sure nobody looked down on the government, lest they would meet the fate of the weak. It was a threat to any that actually had to listen. Those who could afford to live with food in their hands were blind to the messages put out, yet Troy had heard the wails more than enough to understand the true meanings. He knew what he needed to fear.

The pressure put on his legs was more than a simple indicator of where he was. When Cassandra, the officer who had shot him, to begin with, did it to make sure he was awake, the young man knew who he was dealing with. Adam had put them off as the better people in the system, yet the young man was having a hard time believing that. The pain that was so carelessly put on him was sadistic. He knew the woman enjoyed doing it, likely trying hard to keep a smile off her face. Oh, how easy it was to picture. It was likewise easy to see him doing the same them in retaliation, the time in pain not stopping him from thinking such things.

Not that he had any chance of doing such a thing. His arms, legs and body were weak. Troy was weaker than ever before, not able to do much but mumble incoherently. Even the man himself wasn't aware if he was actually speaking or not, his ears not able to pick up any words. He could hear what others said, but his own words were much too complicated.

"Are you sure he’s actually conscious?" Jared asked for the third time. With the help of having glazed over eyes, Troy was actually able to see the man now. Jared sat in a bed not that much away from him, a sheet over his body and a few wires strapped into his arm. The man did look somewhat healthy, but Troy could see the slight shivers in the shoulders. Weakness was there, even if it was well-hidden. It made his mumbling grow by a bit at that. "Those eyes aren't even moving. They’re just open."

It wasn't intentional! Troy would have said something to that extent if he could actually control his own facial features. Or maybe he would have made a rude hand gesture if his fingers would obey him, all fine motor skills having been utterly removed from his control. It wasn't fun, even the act of twitching his legs close to impossible. He had been able to tense the muscles, yes, but actually moving them around was out of the possible range of motions.

Even with the straps holding him down to the bed, Troy had been utterly defenceless to the power of Cassandra, that damned officer likely enjoying the power. When she had closed in on him, her eyes had been condescending, angry, and most likely utterly annoyed. Troy felt some form of happiness, knowing that he was likely the reason behind the latter two. And maybe the first if he had to go down that route again. Troy wasn't too happy about it either.

When the wheelchair was brought out, the woman had started to move his body around. It wasn't a fun experience, the plastic linings on the sides of the bed grinding against exposed skin. One was likely meant to be carried over that small barrier, yet the woman had simple pulled him. There was a good chance that Troy bled on his legs yet again from that experience, though he wasn't in a state where he could actually check. His mind felt fine enough, yet the body wasn't up to the required standard. It was annoying.

But being put in the wheelchair did at least allow him to look upon the sight that he had seen so much of before. The medical wing was quite the sight to see, Troy and Charlie having been around it only briefly. Even then, he hadn't been able to admire the pure amount of technology that littered the walls from head to toe or whatever it was called. Even if the young man had next to no clue surrounding what most of the technology did, he could still admire it.

And he could likewise admire the automation that sat beside Jared. The construct wasn't moving, wasn't blinking, and wasn't even making fake breathing motions. Even when Troy knew that the thing would start moving by the time that midnight was upon them, he still felt a bit bad about it.

"He is very much awake," Cassandra said from behind Troy. The man had been positioned into the wheelchair, a small strap on his chest to stop him from falling forwards. "The twitching of the middle finger is telling me as much. The criminal might even be trying to send us a message."

Oh, gee. Troy could only wonder what he was trying to say. Jared the officer laughed at that as the younger criminal was slowly wheeled out of the medical wing and into the hallway.