SFF Saturday 1-12-2013

See the pretty picture?  Click on it, go read some great new fiction.

Prisoner 1138's journal continues....

 

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Entry 7

I often wonder if they are watching me.  I know this insidious little device in my wrist monitors my heart rate and oxygen level, as well as providing a rudimentary tracking device,--so do my jailers need remote cameras to track my every movement?  My cell was originally a small break room for Lunar Colony miners; therefore, I assume they didn't go through the expense of wiring cameras and motion detectors before locking me in here.  As their continuing policy seems to be "throw him in a hole and hope the world forgets he's there (and what he's done in our name)", I am  more and more convinced that there is no note-taking watcher on the other side of these reinforced walls.

I'm bored, though, and have devised a series of experiments to test my hypothesis.  I shall provide an update on these tests in my next entry.

 

My designation is Prisoner 1138, but my name is Abraham bin Navi

SFF Saturday 1-4-13

See the pretty picture?  Click on it, go read some great new fiction.

Prisoner 1138 continues his journal entries....

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Entry 6

The depression continues, kept at bay with sheer stubbornness and my daily exercise routine. The boredom is more insidious. Yes, my jailers gave me a tablet loaded with the entire contents of the Library of Congress--but they studiously censored anything pertaining to my previous fields of interest. (Not that it would matter, I either have read or wrote all of the major scholarly works on viral genetic manipulation.) No, the problem continues to be the exasperatingly short battery life of the tablet. Reading 15 minute's worth of Candide is enough to drive me insane under the best of circumstances.  I need to find some serialized fiction, something meant to be consumed in small doses. Alternately, I need to read more about modern kinetic battery design.

I am prisoner 1138, but my name is Abraham bin Navi.

SFF Saturday 12-15-2012

Something on the serious side for this week's offering.  As many of you already know, 5 years ago this week I lost my younger brother when he took his own life.  I miss him everyday, in some way big or small, and would love to spare everyone the pain my family has gone through.  And, so, today's post is about Prisoner 1138's despair at being isolated for the rest of his life without any human interaction at all.  He has books (e-books, of course), shelter, food, and potable water. He doesn't have a sister's teasing, a mother's hugs, a nephews giggles at being swung in the air.  His friends and family will never again see his face contort with laughter or despair, or hear his voice signing quietly as he works.

(For guaranteed lighter fare, please visit http://scififansat.blogspot.com/ )

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Entry 5

I control the lights in my cell; I find this a remarkable gift, since it would be an easy sadism to toy with my circadian rhythms.  I decide when I rise, when I sleep, and even, through the small button and chute on the wall, when I eat.  I am quickly finding, however, that the deferred sadism of my jailers is more than offset by the masochism of despair.  I've nowhere to be, no one to see, no one depending on me, and no one for me to depend upon.  I can lie in the darkness, never rising from the bed and my own tortured musings, and no one will care or even remark upon it.  Oh, they will note when I die, through their insidious monitoring program, but they do not care if I perish and probably relish the idea of me simply ceasing to exist of my own volition.

I could do it, of course, and easily at that--and I've thought of it, ceaselessly for days on end. I've considered painful ways, quick ways, dramatic ways, ways in which I die and make a final statement for the entire world to witness.

But I don't do it, because the only possession I have left is my life and I will not let them, or the despair, win.

My prisoner designation is 1138, but my name is Abraham bin Navi and everyday I struggle out of the darkness.