Robert was more terrified than he had ever been in his entire life.
The cold, stark grey of the walls. The cold steel of the chair and the straps that held him down. The box standing before him was as unrevealing as the rest of the room, but Robert knew it could serve no benevolent purpose.
"Prisoner 18-5," announced a hidden voice, "You are here for the purposes of interrogation."
"I've done nothing wrong!" the youth shouted.
"Any unsatisfactory answers you give will be met with punishment. We will begin."
Robert tensed, knowing that his answers would never meet the requirements of the questioner.
"State your name and place of birth."
"Robert. That's all I know."
"That answer is unsatisfactory."
The shock was close to breaching Robert's pain threshold.
"Your place of birth, where was it?"
"I don't know!"
Again the bolt of electricity.
"I don't know!"
The pain was all Robert could think about.
"Where were you born?!" Boomed the hidden voice.
"I don't know!"
He woke back in his cell, alone and afraid.
Where was Alexander?
Why had he been tormented so much?
Why couldn't he remember anything about his life?
The second time in the chair was relatively painless for Rosemary.
She had answered the questions as truthfully as she could and only received three shocks. Now she was in for the third time.
"Prisoner 44-6, you have so far shown marked improvement in your attitude towards these questions. We hope that, soon, we may see you in another light."
Rosemary prepared herself for another bout of questions.
"During your last session, you mentioned experiencing visions as a young teenager. What was the nature of those visions?"
Rosemary told them the same details she had told Robert on their last day on that strange world.
"And did these visions come to you asleep or awake?"
"Both, though mainly when I was asleep. I suppose I was more relaxed so it made it harder to block them out."
"You were frightened by them?"
"At first. I was worried that if I kept seeing them I'd go mad."
"Then, if you were frightened of these visions, why did you persist in your course of action?"
Rosemary thought for a moment.
"I grew to accept that perhaps they were more than just dreams."
"You began to believe there was some truth behind them?"
"Yes."
The voice took on a more serious tone.
"And that is why you attempted to create anarchy with your group of so-called followers and worshippers. You attempted to use them to undermine and bring about the fall of the Central Earth Directorate."
Rosemary nodded, the memories too vivid, too painful now she realised that her actions had caused so much suffering.
"I wanted it to be a peaceful take-over. I wasn't prepared for bloodshed."
"Yet you continued to allow your supporters free rein after they proved they were willing to commit murder in your name."
"I had no choice!" she screamed, "I was in too deep by then, there was no turning back."
"That answer is unsatisfactory."
Rosemary braced herself for the electric shock, but, when it came, even though she was ready for it, the pain was beyond anything she had hitherto experienced.
"Your words perhaps betray feelings of remorse for your actions. However, you attempt, also, to justify your motives and explain away your guilt."
"I can't change the past."
"But if you could, would you still choose to follow the same path?"
"Only if I could prevent the bloodshed."
"You truly believe you could have carried out your goals without needless death and violence?"
"No. I don't believe any revolution can succeed without suffering. I was wrong to believe that mine could be different."
"And do you feel remorse?"
"Yes. Though I may have beliefs that might bring me into disagreement with others, I know now that they can never be more than beliefs and dreams."
Joanna was doing well.
Fear for her life had forced the truth from her and, during her fourth session, she had even admitted that she no longer felt good about her crimes. She was now in her sixth session.
"Do you feel remorse?"
"Yes."
"Do you accept that, as a serial killer, you are a danger to society?"
"Yes."
"And do you accept that you can never re-enter society again?"
"Yes."
Joanna felt pain, but this time it was from the answers she was giving. It made her sick to have to agree with the people who were holding her against her will. It was terrifying that she was, herself, consciously agreeing with them even when she knew that it could do no good.
"Ms Atkins over these past sessions, you have improved immensely. We have decided that you are to be allowed to spend time outside your cell with the other inmates. Hopefully, in time, you will come to prove to yourself and to us that you are an acceptable human being once again."
For Alexander there were no more sessions.
The first had been sufficient to convince his jailors that he was everything they had expected and more. When he had returned to his cell, Alexander had found Robert gone, presumably to his own session.
After waiting half an hour, Alexander was summoned from his cell by two guards and taken to the shuttle pad.
"Good luck sir," said each guard before shaking Alexander by the hand and standing away from the shuttle.
Alexander entered the small craft and settled down in his seat. He felt the shuttle rise slowly and steadily.
"What's our destination?" he called through to the pilot cabin. The intercom gave no answer.
"Anyone in there?" asked Alexander, beginning to feel unnaturally afraid.
Unfastening his restraint, he made his way forward and opened the cabin door. Both pilot and co-pilot seats were empty, the shuttle running on autopilot. One screen blinked on and began displaying a slow countdown accompanied by a voice that issued from the communications speakers.
"Oh my god!" gasped Alexander before the drive engines detonated, engulfing the shuttle in a rapidly expanding fireball.
Robert could not hear the deafening explosion. All he could think about was the pain.
"You persist in withholding information from us," announced the calm, measured tones of the interrogator, "You have repressed this knowledge, tried to hide it from yourself. We want to help you."
"I don't know anything!" yelled Robert, and received another agonising shock from the chair.
"Try harder. You know your name. You know where you were born. You know what you were convicted for. You know all the answers, as do we. Your friends have all done this before, they all passed the questioning."
"My name is Robert. I don't know anything else."
"You know that you are a convicted criminal?"
"Yes."
"You know that you were convicted for committing parricide?"
"Yes."
"You know that you were also found guilty of theft, possession of illegal substances and manslaughter?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember anything else?"
Robert thought long and hard. He knew the memories were there, hidden deep within the recesses of his confused mind. He knew that, somewhere, was all the knowledge he needed to save himself from the torment of these sessions. After nearly a dozen such sessions, the knowledge was slowly being brought to the surface.
"I..."
"What; do you remember anything else?"
"I... remember my home. It was on a space observatory. I'd lived there my whole life until..."
"Until what?"
"I'm not sure. I see images, but I don't know what they mean."
"That answer is unsatisfactory."
Robert screamed even before the shock came.
The cool night air was bliss to Joanna after the oppressive atmosphere of the cramped cell. Taking a deep lungful, she held it for a minute before exhaling slowly, almost reluctantly.
"Feels good?" called a cheery voice from behind her.
"I'm sorry?" she asked, turning to see another woman strolling towards her. The stranger extended a hand.
"The air. Tastes better than that recycled crap they pump around inside. My name's Lawrence, Agatha Lawrence."
"Joanna Atkins."
Agatha took a deep breath herself, "Just been released?"
"Yeah, they reckon I'm safe enough to join you lot."
Agatha laughed, "Most of us'll never see more than the walls of this place. I've been here nearly fifteen years and the only contact I've had with the outside world has been through the occasional hob nob with a guard."
Joanna's brow creased, "The guards talk to the prisoners?"
"Only when they want to gawk and take the piss. They'll say anything to get a laugh from the exhibits in this place."
She said ‘place' as though it were a term of derision. Joanna was beginning to think she'd found someone who understood her.
"So, what've they got you in for; robbery, terrorism?"
"Murder."
Agatha smiled, "Must have been bad. How many?"
"Fifteen. Though the first was an accident, he slipped in the shower and knocked himself out. I thought he was dead so I chucked him in the refuse. They only pulled him out when they saw the blood on the crusher."
Somehow, Joanna found it easy to unburden herself before Agatha. The woman seemed positively entranced by the doings of others, no matter how significant or insignificant they may appear. Perhaps it was a desire for knowledge, or just an insatiable curiosity.
"What about you?" asked Joanna.
"Murder, same as you. Though I only killed eight, the ninth got away with a broken arm and a severed finger."
"Why?"
Agatha frowned and suddenly appeared to loom over Joanna.
"Here we don't give a shit about why something was done. I don't care if you did it for money or for thrills, O.K?"
Joanna agreed.
Rosemary was in her final session.
It had taken weeks to come this far, but now she felt that she was finally ready to admit the whole truth to her interrogators. For some reason, the interrogators had alternated between what was obviously a computer and genuine human beings.
"Prisoner 44-6, we have been pleased with your progress. You have been allowed to leave your cell occasionally and we believe you are close to rehabilitation. Now, we shall ask you a few more questions. Any signs of deception will be dealt with accordingly. We shall begin."
Rosemary waited with bated breath, trying ever so hard not to show how tense she felt.
"During one of your previous sessions, you mentioned how you were led to believe you were destined for greatness. You stated that this belief stemmed from visions you had as a young teenager. Do you still have visions?"
Now it was time for the real truth.
"Yes."
"What do you see?"
"I see myself on a throne, I'm surrounded by my subjects. They worship me as a goddess."
"And how do you know that is how they see you?"
Now, she thought, I have you where I want you.
"Because there could be no other explanation."
"Elaborate."
Rosemary paused for effect.
"What else to people worship other than a deity. It was the logical assumption. I could, however, quite easily have used any other term."
The interrogator paused to consider this statement before asking its next question.
"Do these visions come more or less easily than before?"
"Much more easily."
"And are you still afraid?"
Rosemary smiled, "No. I've come to accept them as a fact of my life. It is still unnerving that I have them, but I realise that they can do me no harm."
"Your friends, do they see you as some sort of new goddess?"
"I honestly don't know. I've never tried to find out."
"You say you accept these visions can do you no harm, yet they caused you to attempt a coup on Earth. That coup failed and you were sentenced for crimes against humanity."
Rosemary's smile grew more pronounced.
"Humanity," she hissed, still smiling, "I have no compassion for humanity anymore."
The interrogator took longer than ever to ask the next question.
"Surely you are contradicting yourself. During a previous session, you said that you felt remorse for your actions. How can you have no compassion, yet feel remorse?"
Rosemary almost laughed out loud with glee, "Would you feel remorse if you had endangered the lives of an enemy's children unnecessarily?"
"Perhaps," answered the interrogator, unaware that the roles had changed
"But they are the offspring of your enemy. Surely then, you cannot treat them differently because they are children?"
The interrogator considered this, "They have no control over their lineage; therefore they do not deserve to suffer for the actions of parents or other relatives."
Rosemary was positively aglow with satisfaction. "You have just answered your own question."
The interrogator was silent for some minutes before responding.
"You have turned this session around to your own advantages. You shall be punished."
Rosemary, although she knew the pain would be tremendous, kept her face fixed in an expression of absolute calm.
"Is it right for you to punish me for responding intelligently?" she asked hurriedly before the shock came.
"Unable to answer. Unable to answer."
The interrogator continued to utter the same sentence over and over until each new utterance overlapped the last. Rosemary laughed all the while at the confusion she had wrought in the machine's processing system.
"What's the problem?" she called out mockingly, "Has the cat got your tongue?"
Somewhere, deep within the bowels of the computer mainframe something collapsed under the strain. The muffled sounds of machinery working frantically drifted into the room, adding to Rosemary's already ridiculous feelings of joy at the chaos she was creating. Her revels were cut short, however, when the guards burst in with loaded weapons. What they found was a female inmate strapped in the interrogation chair, her body contorted by fits of laughter that sent shivers down their spines.
Half an hour later, Rosemary was sitting in a padded cell, the arms of the straight-jacket tied round her body to restrict her movement. She was no longer laughing, but still relished the memories of how she, who had seen visions of what she believed to be her own destiny, had shown how she was greater than one of the most intelligent machines ever devised by mankind.
The single grate in the door was slid open and a tray of food passed through. The tray carried a bowl of gruel with a straw protruding from the gooey mess. Rosemary shuffled over to the meal and sucked noisily through the straw. She had, in her mind, known all along that she would face hardships along her road to greatness. The visions had shown her that it would be a treacherous journey and that many she knew would give up their lives during the process.
In the gloom of the padded cell, Rosemary nursed her burning ambition and began to prepare for her emergence into the limelight.