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06:40 Saturday 2 November 2069
Thanks to an impassioned plea from her sister to the senior ranks of the resistance, Caitlin was driven to the nearest One Life training camp early on a Saturday morning. Far out in the countryside the SUV, invisible thanks to the VACS technology that had also hidden Michelle’s motorcycle, turned into what appeared to be thick woodland. Caitlin flinched and closed her eyes as the vehicle drove straight at a clump of trees, accelerating and making no attempt to deviate from its course. The expected impact never came, her now open eyes instead trying to make sense of what they saw; a busy training camp, with vehicles and personnel going about their daily routines. If Maurice had been with them he would have taken it all in his stride, having seen this technology in action on the Businessman’s island, but Caitlin just sat in the vehicle with her jaw hanging open. The vehicle’s driver looked at his passenger.
“Impressive, eh?”
Caitlin collected her thoughts.
“You could say that, yes.”
As it was still early, the driver checked Caitlin in at the registration desk and showed her where she would be billeted. Then the two of them went over to the breakfast hall.
“This is where you’ll be eating for the next ten days.”
“Only ten days?”
“It’s a very intensive ten days. You’ll go to sleep late, you’ll get up early, you’ll pretty much only stop to eat, shit, and piss. And sleep if you’re lucky.”
Caitlin was already wondering what on earth she had let herself in for. Then she remembered what she had gone through at the prison and remembered her vow to never allow anything like that happen to her again. Anyway, Michelle had been through the same training and she didn’t appear to have suffered too much.
The quantity at breakfast was more than Caitlin would normally expect to consume but she forced herself to eat everything, reasoning that she would probably need plenty of energy and staying power to last out the following ten days.
At eight o’clock sharp, Caitlin was standing in a line with eleven other recruits; five women and six men. She wondered if they were as green as she was. Although she had got herself into a couple of difficult situations previously in her life, she hadn’t come across a situation that she couldn’t talk herself out of. Until meeting Marcus, that is. Marcus had had an agenda from the very beginning. He felt all-powerful and, being Pindar, he didn’t need to cede control of any situation to anyone, least of all Caitlin. He had seduced her with his charm, and she had become a willing lover, but once she was no longer under his spell he didn’t need to pretend that she was a real partner in the relationship and he could do whatever he wanted with her. And he did.
The recruits were all dressed in matching white jumpsuits. They were told that this was so that any blood spilt would show up, so that they should become used to the sight of blood, be it their own or their opponent’s, and that it shouldn’t be a distraction.
They were taught punches, kicks, strangle-holds, evasive manoeuvres. They were taught to feign injury to put their adversary off guard. They were taught to use objects at hand as weapons or shields. Male recruits fought female recruits so that the women wouldn’t fear facing a probably physically stronger opponent and the men wouldn’t show leniency towards women, thinking erroneously that women are the weaker sex.
Training continued unabated for the next six days; six days of gruelling combat training, plus survival, evasion, resistance and escape techniques.
At 03:00 on the seventh day, they were woken up by loudspeakers blasting out heavy metal music at an almost painful rate of decibels, instead of the normal, sedate alarm call at 05:30. An instructor stood in the doorway of the billet hall, silhouetted as a bright light shone behind him, illuminating the room. The recruits blinked their eyes, partly at the early hour and partly because the light was dazzling them. The instructor barked his orders.
“You will get up and get dressed in a new set of white fatigues. You will take breakfast immediately. You will not shower. I repeat. You will not shower. You will not clean your teeth. At 03:30 you will assemble outside the dining hall and will be taken to another building on the far side of the base. Now get dressed.”
The recruits looked anxiously at each other. What were they going to be doing at this early hour? One thing they were all certain of - it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
The group entered a dull concrete building. Inside were a number of rooms, all with identical doors, distinguishable from one another only by the unique identifying number attached to the wall alongside.
Caitlin silently counted the number of rooms. It matched the number of recruits; this must mean that they would be separated. Her suspicions were proven correct as she was ushered inside one of the rooms and the door was closed behind her. A trace of fear flitted into her memory as she remembered the ordeal that she had been put through at HMP666. She gritted her teeth and silently told herself to use that memory positively, to use it as a source of mental strength to overcome whatever she was about to undergo.
The room contained no furniture whatsoever. It was basically a white box with no windows; even the door blended in perfectly with the walls so there was no visual relief for the eyes. The room was a sea of white.
Michelle was watching via a concealed camouflaged camera. She was concerned that perhaps this training – especially this part – was too soon for her sister. She could only imagine what was going through Caitlin’s mind, what would go through her mind during the next three days. If she wasn’t on hand to support her during the forthcoming nightmare, she would never be able to forgive herself. She had gone through this training herself so she knew how tough it was. Her main hope was that it would at least give Caitlin a focus and help her to not dwell on events of the recent past.
Caitlin sat down on the cold white floor, her mind drifting as she wondered what the day held in store for her. A loud klaxon brought her swiftly back to the real world. A disembodied voice spoke.
“Recruit. You will remain here for three days. You will not know the time, you will simply be aware that time is passing. There will be no such thing as day or night. There will be nothing to look at except these blank white walls. If you fall asleep you will be awoken by the klaxon you just heard. The room is soundproof. There is no point in calling out for help. At the end of the three days you will be asked to perform a few simple tasks, things that under normal circumstances you would have no problem performing. You must not give your name and date of birth when asked. You will speak to no person. You will be alone. If you wish to abandon your training, now is the time to do so. You have one hundred and twenty seconds to make your decision.”
After the two minute deadline, all the recruits were still in their respective cells; nobody had accepted the offer to leave.
The instructor, Diego, sat back in his comfortable chair and turned on the TV which displayed a high definition image of the interior of the cell, complete with its occupant. Remote sensors were capturing the vital physical signs so there was no real risk to the inmates, but they didn’t know that. As far as they were aware they were totally on their own.
After two hours of pure silence and no external stimulation, Caitlin was fed up of her own company. She wished that she had somebody to talk to. But all there was, was silence. After eight more hours, she was desperate for someone to talk to.
After ten hours she took off her trainers and placed them on the other side of the room, about six feet apart. She made sure that the opening where normally she would put her feet was pulled open as wide as possible. She then took off her socks and rolled up each one into a ball, as tight as possible. She sat down again and attempted to throw a sock into an unfastened shoe.
Diego was impressed. This was an excellent coping strategy. Where there is no external stimulus, the subject should use anything that is available to break the monotony. After a couple of hours of sock-and-shoe basketball, she would be a markswoman.”
Another hour passed and Caitlin had certainly improved her aim.
Michelle had gone home but had left strict instructions to call her immediately if Caitlin needed her.
Caitlin was now attaining an 85% success rate in throwing the socks into the shoes. Diego decided to put a stop to the target practice. This exercise wasn’t designed to make the subjects feel good about themselves. He pressed a button and camouflaged vents introduced a gas into the cell, rendering Caitlin unconscious for a few minutes.
Caitlin woke up to find that her shoes and socks were no longer in the cell. She didn’t feel like she had fallen unconscious but, after deliberation, that was the only feasible explanation. She muttered to herself.
“You bastards”
She wondered what the time was. She knew that she had gone into the cell at around a quarter to four in the morning, but had no idea how long she had been on her own like this. It must have been about twenty hours. It certainly felt like it. Maybe she should try to get some sleep. She moved into a corner of the room, reasoning that the apex would give her a sense of snugness, and curled up to sleep. At first, sleep was slow to arrive but once she had managed to empty her mind she drifted off. Diego watched as the timer on his desk counted down from five minutes to zero. When the five minutes were up he sounded the klaxon again. He didn’t want to remove all hope of sleep from her, he just wanted it to be of poor quality and for insufficient time.
Caitlin woke with a start. Had she managed to catch some sleep? She honestly didn’t know. If she had, how long had she slept for? She had no idea. Diego pressed another switch and cold air was pumped into the cell. Caitlin tucked her hands into her sleeves in an attempt to protect her extremities from the now icy breeze. She drew her head and neck as close as possible into the neckline of the jump suit, but her feet were still open to the elements. She wished that she had kept her shoes and socks on.
She changed her position and folded her legs beneath her, allowing some protection from the cold. The material of her clothing and the proximity of her thighs protected her feet from the worst of the low temperature but the soles of her feet were still uncovered. However, this position was better than nothing.
Four hours of this freezing temperature and three klaxon bursts to wake her up when she dropped off to sleep was tough but she managed to endure the severe discomfort. A new instructor, Simone, took over from Diego.
Simone adjusted the temperature within the cell to 45 degrees Celsius. It took a few minutes for the heat to really kick in but Caitlin soon became aware that she was now starting to perspire quite heavily. Earlier she had been feeling hungry but now she was starting to feel desperate for something to drink. She didn’t care what. It had never been her refreshment of choice but even a glass of cold water would be welcome now. She called out.
“May I have a glass of water, please? I’m dying of thirst in here.”
Simone looked at the bank of machines recording Caitlin’s bodily functions. She was certainly dehydrated but there was nothing to give any cause for concern. Caitlin was uncomfortable, but she was nowhere near dying. If there had been any cause for alarm a team of medics would have gone into the room and started the rescue process. There was no need to call for them yet.
Realising that no water was going to arrive, Caitlin tried to turn her attention to stimulating her mind again, but the heat in the room was beginning to become oppressive. She flopped back against the wall for a couple of minutes whilst she assessed the situation. She was hot – uncomfortably hot – but she also didn’t want to lose her clothing, like she had her shoes.
She peeled of her jump-suit, leaving her just wearing her bra and panties. That would solve the problem of the heat; to some extent anyway. This was how humans had made themselves more comfortable for centuries, by removing extraneous clothing. Her main problem was how to ensure that her jumpsuit didn’t disappear. If the cell temperature suddenly went cold she would need it again. She hit upon the idea of tying the sleeves to her wrists and the legs of the jumpsuit to her ankles, whilst she lay on the main body of the suit. It was a great idea but how was she going to tie the jumpsuit to her ankles and wrists? Another minute of thinking was called for.
She remembered that her bra was of the type where the straps could be removed so that she could still gain support whilst not spoiling the appearance of a strapless dress or top. She removed the straps and used them to fasten one leg of the jumpsuit and one sleeve of the jumpsuit to the nearest ankle and wrist. She looked ungainly, twisted up against the wall but Simone had to admire her ingenuity. Caitlin deserved a reward for that exhibition of inventiveness, so Simone let her sleep for ten minutes before sounding the klaxon.
Sleep deprivation was not causing Caitlin any major problem but her bladder was starting to make its presence felt. She ignored it for as long as she could, but after another five hours, during which she had managed to gain three ten minute bursts of sleep, she could bear the discomfort no longer. She didn’t care who, if anybody, was watching. She had to relieve herself. She shuffled over to the furthest corner from where she had been sitting and napping and contorted her body into a squatting position, facing against the wall. She hooked a finger around her panties at the crotch and pulled the material tight to the left to allow a free flow of urine. The relief was incredible. After emptying her bladder she returned to her regular corner.
The time was now 03:00 on Saturday 9th November and Caitlin had been subjected to this treatment for almost twenty-four hours, although she would have sworn on her grandmother’s grave that she had been in the cell for much longer.
Caitlin was taking one of the few naps that she was allowed to by Simone when four hours later she awoke to find herself feeling very moist. No, not moist. She was wet. She forced her eyes open and saw that she was laying in about six inches of water. She stood up and her worst fears were confirmed as the level of the water continued to rise rapidly. There was nothing in the room to climb onto. She was in a closed box that was filling with water. She unfastened the jumpsuit from its anchors on her ankle and wrist. She didn’t want anything to impede her ability to tread water; that was assuming that the water level wouldn’t fill the room completely. The water continued to fill the room until the water level reached five feet from the ceiling, when it stopped. Caitlin continued to tread water but the water showed no signs of retreating. After a while her legs were starting to tire, so she lay back in the water and allowed herself to float on her back, to give her legs a rest.
Diego had returned and saw this as his cue to increase the water level. Caitlin saw what was happening but managed to resist the instinct to panic and stayed floating on her back, trusting that One Life wouldn’t allow her to drown. When her nose was almost touching the ceiling the water stopped rising. She was left in this aquatic limbo for a couple of minutes, wondering what would happen next. Would the water rise again, causing her to drown? She didn’t know how much longer she could remain floating like this. Suddenly the water started rising again until she was completely submerged. The instinct to panic was very strong now but she still held onto the reasoning that One Life wouldn’t allow her to die. She decided to dive towards the floor of the room; if she was going to drown she’d rather it be nearer the floor, and therefore the door, than up by the ceiling.
That was Diego’s sign to evacuate the water, which left the room as if a large sluice had been opened. Caitlin lay on the floor looking like a drowned rat for a few seconds before staggering to her feet. She looked at the wall.
“I suppose you enjoyed that.”
A door opened in the wall to her right. Diego stood in the doorway.
“I don’t enjoy it as such. I just do my job.”
“Is that it then?”
“Not quite. What’s your name? What’s your date of birth?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“It’s a simple question. What’s your name?”
“Screw you.”
“What’s your date of birth?”
“Screw you again.”
“Congratulations. You’ve passed this part of the training.”
“Has it been three days?”
“No. It’s been about twenty-eight hours.”
“It feels like much longer.”
“It’s supposed to. I suggest you go have a shower and get some sleep. Proper sleep. No more klaxons, I promise.”
“One last question. Why the order to refuse to give my name and date of birth?”
“Ah, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“Well, it’s such an innocuous question, it seems so harmless a question that we are inclined to answer it instinctively. We wanted to make sure that you remembered that you weren’t supposed to answer the question. And you did remember, after not being allowed to sleep, being exposed to extremes of heat and cold, and nearly drowned.”
“OK. Towel please.”
Diego handed her the towel that he was draped over his arm.
“Sorry, I almost forgot I had it here. You’ll find a shower cubicle in room B2, just down the corridor.”
Caitlin started to towel herself dry.
“Are the others free yet?”
“One of the men bottled out, so he’s gone but the rest are still in their cells. I expect they’ll be out soon though.”
After such and ordeal, Caitlin still found the energy to smile.
“I’m guessing I passed then.”