I’m not really sure how to explain this, so I suppose i’ll start from when I first saw the notice. I spend most nights stacking shelves in the warehouse down by the docks. This town is so small, that almost everyone knows someone who works here - it’s the biggest employer in the area for miles. The work is pretty easy, if a touch physically demanding. We unpack large crates that arrive by boat daily, and organise them into product groups. The cargo isn’t anything exciting if that’s where you think i’m going here - hardware bits and bobs, light-bulbs, tools. After we organise them, trucks come to the warehouse and ship them off to wherever they may be going. The completely mundane nature of our work, and where we are based is the part about this whole incident that confuses me the most. There’s nothing exciting going on here, and certainly no extraordinary people.
I already had this job - it’s my new one that I want to tell you about.
I was working night shift yesterday (I suppose it’s today now). Coffee was badly needed, so I took my break a little early and stomped off into the breakout room. On my way there Thomas came barging out and bumped into me, going outside. He wasn’t usually so rude, so I just chalked it up to him having a bad day and let it go, continuing to the breakout room. Kicking my feet up onto the table, I grabbed the remote for the TV and flicked through what little channels there were, as the rain pounded loudly on the tin roof outside. The TV was so old, that it didn’t even have any HDMI ports - not that that would have mattered either, because there wasn’t anything in the way of WiFi in the building. Well, except for that one network called “PRISON” that my phone sometimes offered me as a connection option. I always chuckled at what people would name their private networks, but it’s not like I knew the password for it. I realised i’d forgotten to put the kettle on, so with a sigh, I dragged myself back to my feet and shuffled over to the kitchenette.
While I was waiting, the noticeboard caught my attention - which was unusual in of itself. It had a bunch of adverts, groups and clubs stuck to it - but they were all old and faded, and the board was usually in a state of disuse and abandonment. Tonight however, a freshly printed piece of A4 paper was pinned to the centre of the board. Forgetting my need for coffee, I reviewed the paper. It was extremely short and direct:
“MINISTRY OF JUSTICE POSITION AVAILABLE
COMPETITIVE SALARY
NO QUALIFICATIONS REQUIRED”
At the bottom of the piece of paper was a local area code telephone number. No email address, no mobile phone number - not even a website. Let me tell you - I was happy in my job. Well, happy is perhaps the wrong word to use. Satisfied is perhaps more accurate - it was easy, it paid the bills, and it required no responsibility on my part. That’s why I still can’t come up with an explanation as to why I called the number. Curiosity maybe? I like to think I’m a reasonably intelligent person, so perhaps the reason I told myself was “why not”? I typed the number into my mobile phone.
The line rang twice before someone picked up on the other end.
“Hello?” I ventured.
A woman’s voice responded - stern, yet not necessarily unfriendly.
“Are you available this evening for an interview?”
This took me by surprise - I hadn’t even given my name yet. I unwittingly stammered for a few seconds before finally responding.
“Uhh… yes - I’m on my break, but I only have an hour.”
“Don’t worry about that - a car will be sent to pick you up shortly.”
Then the line went dead. I realised that I hadn’t explained where I was calling from either. Before I could do anything further, my phone rang again - the caller was my boss.
“Strange…” I had thought. I could probably count on one hand the number of times my boss has called me directly.
I tried to remain nonchalant as I answered. “Hello sir?”
“Hey - listen, feel free to take the rest of the night off. In fact, take the rest of the week - we owe you some time anyway.”
This was now getting weird - it’s not like my boss wasn’t a nice guy, but this was unprecedented. And yes, while I was undoubtedly owed hours, it’s not like anyone ever really got those back. Still, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Sure thing, I’ll see you Monday then?”
“Sounds good.” Then he hung up.
The coincidental timing wasn’t lost on me - I wasn’t one to indulge in paranoid fantasies, but this was definitely in the category of “coincidence”.
I believe in coincidences - coincidences happen all around the world every single day. But I don’t for one second trust a coincidence. Still, the prospect on offer had still enslaved my attention. I grabbed my coat, and headed downstairs to the entrance to wait on the car.
By the time I got down, a driver was waiting outside with a huge umbrella. He was wearing a smart suit that I could see under his long length raincoat, and standing next to the open back door of a very expensive looking Audi. The man gestured to the seat with a smile, but didn’t say anything. I nodded, and took a seat, putting my seat-belt on as he closed the door.
The windows were tinted, but I was still able to see outside. Rain hammered down on the car, but not enough to stop me seeing where we went. We only circled the warehouse once, before driving towards an opening car shutter. I could have sworn that it wasn’t there before, but it was so blended into the background that it was hard to tell.
The car started inclining down, and it soon became apparent we were circling round - descending underground. The driver said nothing, and I didn’t ask anything - it was an unspoken acknowledgement between us that this situation was strange. Eventually, the car came to a stop, and the driver opened the door again. As I got out, I could see the tunnel from where the car had emerged - and a single unmarked door in the wall, which the driver was standing beside.
I stepped up to the door, and gripped the handle. I had to steel myself for a moment, but eventually I was able to summon the courage.
“In for a penny, in for a pound…” I justified to myself.
When I opened the door, the scene was very strange. The room was approximately the size of half a tennis court. At the end nearest me, was a very comfortable hospital bed. Opposite this on the other side of the room, was a large oak CEO style desk, at which three people in lab coats were seated. Behind them was a large television. The room was decorated almost half and half between hospital suite, and executive boardroom.
The driver stepped in behind me, and pulled the door closed softly. Again, it didn’t seem as if he was being hostile. The vibe I was getting from him was more professional than anything else. One of the trio called out to me.
“Please, take a seat and join us.” He motioned to the empty chair opposite him. As I approached, I took them in a bit more. The one who had called out was a Caucasian male - probably in his early forties, with dark hair, glasses and a beard with goatee.
The other two were younger. One was a blonde woman who was fairly slim - she was the only one of the three holding something, a clipboard and pen. The other was a bald man who looked somewhat muscular and athletic under his lab coat.
As I went to sit down, Glasses (as I had coined him in my mind) stood up and extended his hand for a shake. I wasn’t expecting this motion, but returned the gesture, smiling as we both sat down. As I opened my mouth to speak, Clipboard raised her hand and shook her head, as if to silence me. Glasses broke the silence after another moment.
“Good evening, and welcome to our facility. Myself and my colleagues work for the Ministry of Justice.” He paused as if to let that sink in, before leaning forward and sharpening his tone.
“What we wish to do in this room will not be privacy to the public domain, and there will never be any legal consequences for you. That being said, you need to know what what we are proposing is completely illegal.”
All three of them locked eyes with me in the immediate proceeding moments, as if trying to gauge my response. I swallowed deeply, before offering my answer.
“I’m still interested.” My tone was assertive, and accompanied by a nod of assurance. This seemed to greatly satisfy the panel, and Clipboard placed her namesake on the table and slid it across to me.
As with the advertisement upstairs, this “contract” was equally basic. It was literally confirmation that I was happy to proceed, with all of the prior mentioned elements. The compensation was paid upon completion, and it was extremely generous. There were no “gotchas”, loopholes or “selling my soul to the devil” sections. There was even an additional section, that indicated I was free to leave at any time I wished. I signed readily, and slid it back across the table.
Glasses removed his spectacles, and set them down gently on the desk. He took a moment before speaking.
“You may or may not know that pressure all around the world is building to abolish the Death Penalty.”
I nodded - this had certainly been an escalating opinion in recent months, both at home and internationally. But this raised another question:
“Who do you work for? Our government?”
Muscles spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and had gravitas.
“We represent a conglomeration of nations. Nations who have funded this project, and have a vested interest in the outcome of our experiments. Nations who want to stand ready to maintain justice in the event certain avenues of punishment were taken away.”
That was the first time that I felt afraid during this encounter. Just what sort of “justice” were they talking about?
“How does this involve me?” I ventured eventually. Glasses responded swiftly.
“We need a test subject to let us provide a proof of concept for our new punishment method. The problem is that human trials are years away from being approved - but sometimes in matters such as this, it’s better to ask for forgiveness, rather than seek permission.”
For the second time, I felt afraid, despite the contract I had signed. Clipboard must have sensed my apprehension, for she moved to alleviate it.
“We mean with the government, not with you. You are still free to leave at any time.” The others nodded in agreement with her. I allowed a pregnant pause to develop in the air. I waited a few moments, letting things digest.
“Tell me more.” I asked. Muscles responded this time.
“We have been able to isolate the cells of the brain that store memories. The problem is that the string of cells in question is like a ribbon - we can see the start of it, and we can see the end of it, but everything in-between is lengthy, knotted and difficult to separate. Our cutting edge technology can convert the information stored into these cells into stimulus that the brain can understand.”
I leaned forward, greatly intrigued.
“You mean like a video clip of someone’s memories?”
Muscles shook his head slightly.
“Not exactly - think of it as memory implantation and processing. You see we can’t create a “file”, not yet anyway - but we can use our converter to hook up a human subject to the extracted cells, and have them experience the memory as if they were that person. And our latest breakthrough is why we need a test subject - we have successfully been able to extract these cells from a recently deceased brain.”
I thought about the ribbon metaphor, before continuing.
“So if I understand what you are saying… You can see the last few memories of a person’s life before they die?”
All three nodded silently.
This was insane - this could revolutionise law and order. Murder victims could testify from beyond the grave - families could experience the last moments of life with their loved ones. Juries could see indisputable evidence.
“No wonder you went to so much trouble.” I eventually managed to say. “Am I right in assuming you have a brain suitable for testing right now?”
Glasses continued next.
“Three actually, but all three have different causes of death. We want to see how far from the moment of death you can draw useful data.”
After a few moments, Glasses spoke again.
“Shall we begin?”
After agreeing, I was led to the bed, and made to lay down. I was hooked up to various vital monitors and other machines. They made me comfortable, before placing a set of blackout goggles and headphones on me. I could hear and see nothing. After a moment, I could hear a voice inside the headphones coming through like a telephone call.
“This is the first ever human trial. We will be monitoring you closely, and making sure you’re OK. You’ll feel as if you’re dreaming - you’ll be yourself, as if watching a scene through your own eyes, but you’ll be a passenger. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“This is a simple test - an elderly lady is at the end of her life, before passing away peacefully. When you’re back, tell us as much detail as you can.”
Suddenly it wasn’t black anymore.
I was lying down in a bed still - but this was different. Flowers adorned the nearby table, and various pictures hung on the wall. God, the smell! I smelt of…well, old lady. It was so vivid! It truly was as if I was lying in her room.
“Initialisation achieved!” I heard faintly - I assumed it was the lab techs checking up on me.
I tried to urge the lady in the bed to get up, but they were right - I was merely a passenger along for the ride. I willed her to lift an arm, click a finger - but nothing seemed possible. A woman came in and sat beside me, smiling and placing her hand on my forehead. The touch was warm, and I felt the sensation of her skin on mine…the lady’s.
“It’s time Brenda.” The woman smiled warmly. This time the sound definitely came from inside the memory, not like before when it was distant. As Brenda closed her eyes for the last time, I returned to the blackness and heard Glasses on the headset audio.
“How was it?” He asked excitedly. I relayed the details I could remember, and they seemed enthused whenever they’d talk again to me via the headset.
After answering all their questions, they continued.
“The second subject is a little more intense. They got into a fight with someone, and were ultimately pushed from a window, dying on impact. We don’t believe you should experience any pain. Are you ready?”
I nodded, and almost immediately the vision began. Things were different this time. It didn’t seem as if I was near the moment of death at all. In fact, I was sitting in a cinema watching a movie. The sounds were vivid, I could even feel the vibration in the seat I was sitting from the super loud audio. I watched the entire thing, before leaving with the friends that I had apparently arrived with. As before, I couldn’t do anything to move or influence the man in any way. He was alive and active though - I could hear his thoughts, and feel what he felt. When he was eating popcorn at the movie, I could taste the salt and sugar. When he went to the urinal to take a piss, I could feel the stream flow.
Eventually my host (Frank as I heard through his interactions with his friends) made his way home. As he got in an elevator and pressed 23, I sensed that the end may be near. He was thinking about the boring stuff he had to do - cook lunch for the next day, tidy and clean up his apartment. I could even see the bits of his apartment he was thinking about in his mind’s eye.
“Elevated heart rate. Nothing too serious.” Came the voice of the beyond.
As Frank got out the lift, his neighbour was waiting on him, and he looked angry. The men argued about missed Rent, drugs, and other grievances. Frank really hated this guy - he couldn’t keep his thoughts hidden from me. Suddenly the neighbour swung and punched, hitting Frank. I felt the full force of the punch, as if it was me who had been hit. I tried to cry out, but Frank did that on my behalf.
“Definitely some elevation now, he seems agitated.”
The scuffle continued, and eventually, just as promised, Frank was thrown from the window. As he fell, I could feel his immense fear, the pounding of his heart inside his chest. Hurtling towards inevitable death, while also knowing you’re not is a strange experience let me tell you. You feel the rush of wind on your face as the ground races up to meet you before…. thankfully I felt nothing at the moment of impact. Poor Frank didn’t even have time to have any decent last thoughts before the end.
As before, the team were keen and excited to capture every detail, no matter how minuscule. They seemed a little concerned about the fact that they’d missed their target start time of the memory by so much, but didn’t stop the debrief to explore it. They also sort of expected me to feel “pain” in the memory in the way that I had, although it had become apparent that my body had suffered no physical effects from the experience. Once their curiosity had been exhausted, they continued again. Glasses said:
“Last one - are you ready? This one is the most intense of the three, and is a pretty clear-cut example of what it is we want to use this system for. A woman is followed by a man, and ultimately stabbed and killed as he tries to rob her. It’s going to be the most vivid sensory experience yet.”
Still wearing the black-out goggles and headset, I took a deep breath again, and nodded.
The noticeboard caught my attention - which was unusual in of itself. It had a bunch of adverts, groups and clubs stuck to it - but they were all old and faded, and the board was usually in a state of disuse and abandonment. Tonight however, a freshly printed piece of A4 paper was pinned to the center of the board. Forgetting my need for coffee, I reviewed the paper. It was extremely short and direct:
“MINISTRY OF JUSTICE POSITION AVAILABLE
COMPETITIVE SALARY
NO QUALIFICATIONS REQUIRED”
“Wait a minute….” I thought to myself. This was the strongest case of Deja Vu i’d ever experienced. I walked over to the door, and barged out hurriedly - and saw myself looking back at me. Before I could process any more thoughts, I barged past “me”, and headed down the stairs. My mind raced as I tried to process what the hell was going on here, when it suddenly hit me.
“Thomas….”. He’d barged past me earlier that night, and headed outside. Did this mean he was dead?!
“Something is wrong……you idiot! You’ve used the wrong sample!” The voices from beyond seemed angry, and squabbling amongst themselves. “Shut it down!”…. “I can’t, not without causing brain damage!”
Thomas got outside the warehouse and there he was - a driver waiting outside with a huge umbrella. He was wearing a smart suit that I could see under his long length raincoat, and standing next to the open back door of a very expensive looking Audi. The man gestured to the seat with a smile, but didn’t say anything. Thomas climbed in, as I had. The car made its way to the same shuttered door - and entered, descending as we had earlier. The fear I felt was overwhelming - more unsettling, was whether it was my fear, or Thomas’. There was simply no way to tell at this point. What the hell had happened to Thomas? Was it going to be me next? The car continued, and Thomas entered the room, as I had. As I saw it through Thomas’ eyes, I was extremely unnerved seeing the bed that future me would be lying on. Thomas sat down at the table, and had the same discussion that I had engaged in with the panel. At the end however, he told them to shove their contract, and he stood up to leave.
“You have not signed the contract.” Glasses said solemnly.
“You said I was free to go!” Thomas shouted. He turned to leave, but the driver had re-entered the room, blocking his path with a gun pointed at him. He fired - but instead of a bullet, a needle lodged in his throat and he fell to the floor, paralysed. All this time, I felt as helpless and vulnerable as poor Thomas - but make no mistake, he was the victim here, not me. Drool dripped out of his mouth, as all function left his body. He wasn’t breathing. Before finally succumbing to darkness, Thomas heard Clipboard behind him.
“Shall I extract his memory cells?”
“May as well.” replied Muscles. “It’s not like he’s going to need them.” I…rather, Thomas, felt a sharp pinch at the back of my head - and that was it.
As I regained consciousness, I sat up and tore the goggles and headset off - and saw that the driver had joined the scientists, and that his gun was now aimed at me.
“Just stay calm.” said Glasses softly.
“You fucking bastards!” I hissed aggressively. “Why the hell should I trust anything you say now?”
“Thomas’ death was regrettable.” offered Muscles. “But in refusing to participate - he was a loose end that we couldn’t afford. You don’t think knowledge of an illegal government experiment is something we want let loose is it?”
“Why bother with the fake contract then? What’s the point?” I retorted.
“Now we own you.” Sneered Clipboard. “We can put your signature on anything we want, and say that you’ve agreed to it. Who will believe you if you report us?”
I had to admit, that much was true. This whole thing was unbelievable. I still wasn’t sure that I believed it myself.
“This doesn’t need to end badly.” said Glasses. “If you agree to keep working for us, you can take your money and go about your life. In addition to your fee, we’ve also wired an additional “goodwill” payment into your bank account as compensation for this little technical snafu.”
I reached into my pocket for my phone to check my banking app, but then realised that there would of course be no signal.
“Just use the WiFi.” Muscles produced a card with the credentials - but it was the network name that struck me by surprise - the one I periodically saw in the warehouse.
“PRISON”? I asked.
“Punishment Replay In Subconscious Ocular Nerves.” answered Glasses.
It wasn’t until that very moment that the “Punishment” aspect of all this finally dawned on me.
“You’re going to force killers to experience their crimes aren’t you?” I asked.
“What better way to punish them? When you execute someone, you only kill them once. But when they die every hour, on the hour, don’t you think that would be a pretty terrifying deterrent? I wasn’t lying when I said this whole process was experimental. We eventually want to extract memories from any point in life. Making a rapist replay his crime in his mind might not be a punishment - but finding a traumatic event in their childhood that haunts them to this day would certainly be. As I said, we cant delve far into a person’s memory - yet. That’s where you come in. We need to keep testing.”
I thought about what he said. I couldn’t argue with the effectiveness of the technology.
“Alright. I’m in.”
So here I am, back at home with a fat bank balance and a ton of questions. I’m writing this blog from behind as many network hops and VPNs as I could think of. I had to tell someone about this. YouTube sure has a lot of videos on capital punishment. I wonder how many i’ll be able to get through before it becomes obsolete.