I watch as one man drops to his knees. Another presses his forehead against the bars, shaking.
Still not broken.
Interesting.
“Bring me one,” I say.
“Which one, sir?”
I consider the screens.
Then select one at random.
“Cell E-17.”
The man is draggedinto the punishment chamber within minutes.
He’s younger than the others. Stronger. Still holding too much of himself.
He looks up when he sees me.
“Please,” he says immediately. “I didn’t hear anything. I swear.”
I crouch to his level.
“I know,” I say gently.
His confusion is delicious.
“This is not punishment,” I continue. “This is instruction.”
I stand and gesture.
They chain him upright.
No electricity this time.
No blood.
Just suspension.
Hours will pass like this.
Days, if necessary.
The body will fail first.
The mind will follow.
“Return him when he stops asking questions,” I instruct.
“Yes, sir.”
As they drag him away, I return to the console.
Satisfied.
Then the technician speaks again—voice tight.
