Page 12 of Babalon

Then there are the ones who can’t seem to stay out of trouble and get tossed back into jail. A few of them have managed to be released more than once and when they return, they earn the title of a ‘frequent flier,’ we even have a welcome home party.

Kidding.

Me though? I just like learning. The inmate population calls people like me ‘programmers.’ We are always looking for the next thing to make us better, smarter, more efficient humans. I prefer to keep my ass out of sight and out of mind, so what better way to do that with a life sentence than to study?

Today the professor is covering deterrence theory, which is a whole failure in the United States. It’s a theory that argues for punishment to prevent crime. If the growing prison population is any indication, deterrence theory is a failure.

Either way, I’m still here learning. I guess I should be grateful, right? I mean, since my education is free while there are people out there who pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to get the same education I’m obtaining.

What annoys the absolute hell out of me is that this class is ending in about thirty minutes, and I’m going to have to beg for some sort of material to catch up on. Begging wasn’t ever my thing, but it seems like the longer I am here, the more I find myself doing just that. All thanks to Nadia keeping me longer than I should have. This day has turned out to be one thing right after another.

Once Professor Mark—an ethnic man with a close-cut shave and a build many people yearn for—finished his lesson, my classmates dispersed while I approached the front with my hands visible. Just like we have all been instructed to do, while also maintaining a distance of six feet or more; the guards are very particular about space and safety measures.

“Professor.”

“Kace. Late arrival today.”

“Yeah, another run in with the AB. Then was late to my job assignment. Typical day.”

He arched a bushy, yet shapely, brow at me. His deep coffee hued eyes assessing the new bruises that have formed over the past few hours. I looked like a damn mess, to be frank.

“I see. I hoped you would have benefited from our lecture today.”

“Same. Do you happen to have notes I could copy and maybe a reading assignment? You know this class matters to me.”

“Let me talk it over with your CO, then we can go from there.”

“Fuck.”

Reaching a hand up, I ran it through my unruly white-blond strands. He wasn’t going to get anything past Nadia, but I knew why he had to do it, protocol and all.

“Can I just come in and make up time? Officer Pierce likely won’t allow me take anything back to my cage.”

“Sure, I’ll be here an hour early next week, and we can squeeze some time in beforehand. Kace…”

Professor Mark stalled momentary, tilting his head to the side as he looked me over once more. For someone only a few years older than me, he sure as hell tries to take on a parental role, which didn’t feel all that strange, oddly enough. He is one of those men who only wanted the best for others, me included.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“… nothing. Don’t be late next week. Understood?”

“Of course.”

Taking a few steps back, I turned and made my way to the door.

It was getting close to dinner time which meant everyone will be flocking to the cafeteria soon. It also means it will be our second to last head count for the day. Something the whole prison body takes part in multiple times a day, making sure inmates are where they are supposed to be and are not trying to escape.

Opening the door to the lecture room with a hard shove, the metal banged against whoever was standing on the other side. Wincing, I looked around the door preparing for some sort of fight if it was an inmate, but wouldn’t you know, it’s a guard.

Great.

“Shit, Officer Zurita. I’m sorry.”

“Should be more cautious of what the fuck you’re doing, inmate,” he grunted, staring down his curved nose at me. His beady eyes having seen more than his fair share of illegal activity within these walls. If he is anything like other officers, he has dabbled, too. I have a feeling Nadia does. He may not be her, but he’s still her partner and they are both on my ass, constantly.

“My apologies, Officer. Sometimes the door gets a little stuck and we must use some force to get through it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Where the hell is your escort?”

---