by Anthony Alba
"This place is wicked."
He glanced at the young woman at his side and tried to suppress a sigh. He had been doing that a lot this last week and quite frankly he was getting tired of it. His sister was going to owe him and then some when he was finally able to send her on her way.
Amanda Howard should have had everything going for her. At nineteen she was beautiful, intelligent and had every advantage that life could offer. Yet she had somehow become his problem and all because he had never been able to refuse his little sister, the girl's mother, anything. How his sister thought this was a good idea was something he was still trying to get his head around.
He could understand that she needed to be away from her college for a bit. They had suspended her and there was an investigation going on. From what he had been told the case against her was questionable at best. Someone had hacked into the college database and downloaded quite a few of the exam papers for the class Amanda was in onto the college message board, two days before the exams were due to start. There had been chaos when it was discovered and the exams had to be rescheduled as lecturers and staff had to quickly come up with new papers.
Amanda was the top suspect. She was top of her class, though she hardly ever seemed to touch a text book. A brilliant aptitude for Computer Sciences was how one of her professors had described her. Another had been more frank when he said she made him feel like a village idiot the way she could work code. This from one of the foremost lecturers in the United States was saying something.
Donald Shepard didn't know a lot about computers himself. He had a working knowledge of the system here of course but that amounted to knowing what buttons to push to get certain things. The underlying technology might as well have been magic as far he was concerned. What he did know was human behaviour. After all he was Chief Warden at an experimental Reform School. Dealing with people who did not follow the rules society laid down was where he made his bread and butter.
The hacking had not been done for personal or financial gain, that much had been clear. If it had surely the perpetrator would have kept the papers for themselves or sold them on to some of the students. Certainly it made no sense to publish them on a public forum where everyone would see them. There would be no profit in that. The college authorities would have had to be totally incompetent not to know and to reset the papers.
The college was keeping it as quiet as they could. After all, if you prided yourself on your Computer Sciences and Programming courses you did not go out of your way to announce to the world that your own systems had been hacked.
Even with his limited knowledge of technology Donald knew that breaking into their computers must have taken some doing. It would be a bit like trying to break into a master burglar's home. And then to get out without leaving any solid evidence.
So far all the investigations had failed to trace back the hack to anything remotely linked to Amanda. He had questioned her about the incident of course and she had denied it with those sweet little blue eyes that could look so innocent when she wanted to. The effect was somewhat ruined when he had asked her how something like that might have been done and she had given him a very detailed and technical description of two possible ways it might have been possible. Not that she had ever given it much thought, or so she claimed.
After the summer break the college would have to take her back. After all, if there was no proof she had done anything and they tried to expel her, well that sounded like a civil action waiting to happen.
"This is not a fairground attraction or tourist spot," he told her as they made their way down the corridors. "And, to be frank, I am not at all comfortable with this visit."
"But Uncle Don, you promised," she told him, putting on her best little girl voice.
"After you nagged me for the past week," he countered and she shrugged. "Now do you want to learn about the institute or not?"
She shrugged. "Why not?"
Donald had to take a deep breath to hold back the frustration he felt. She was staying with him for the summer and for the most part she was a good girl. No wild parties, no sign of drugs but by God she was frustrating at times and very happy to completely ignore anyone's rules but her own. She had plagued him for the last week about his work here and what the inmates were like, until finally, just to get some peace, he had agreed to satisfy her curiosity. He had reasoned that seeing what could happen to young women her age who disregarded society's rules might be a valuable lesson to her. And now she acted as if the whole thing was boring her!
He opened his mouth to begin with the usual history lesson he gave the visitors. Before he could utter a word though she asked, "Where are all the inmates?"
He was not accustomed to being interrupted, not here of all places, though he did concede that she had not technically interrupted him. Cut him off before he could start was perhaps a better description. Was the girl really trying to get his blood pressure up or did she just not realise what she was doing?
"They are in class or at chores or at PE. We will see some of them in..."
"Class? I thought this was a prison?"
"No," Donald replied. "If you would give me a chance to get a word in edgeways I will explain. We are an experimental Reform School based on a model that has had some success in your native America. A number of pilot projects have been set up here along similar lines, though with some modifications.
"We are sent young women who are over eighteen and under thirty who have committed criminal acts that are non-violent in nature. They are given a choice between quite a lengthy prison sentence or a shorter period of incarceration here with the added bonus of having no criminal records when they are finished. In exchange they are subjected to very strict and exacting standards and requirements backed up by corporal punishment."
"You mean that they get spanked or paddled?"
For the first time Donald detected something in Amanda's voice other than mild apathy. For someone who had pestered him so hard to get a tour she had sounded awfully disinterested once she got here, at least till now.
Now she sounded like someone who was excited but trying not to show it. Most people might not have even picked up on it but Donald knew he was good reading people. It allowed him to turn around a lot of his guests and put them back on the straight and narrow. If you can understand someone you can influence them or so he always said.
"A paddle is an American implement," he corrected her as he studied her expression for any more clues. "Here a mild breach of discipline will get an inmate a slippering. A more serious breach results in the tawse and for very serious offences or repeat offences a caning."
Donald paused for a second for effect and, watching her very closely, he added, "All punishments are delivered to the bare bottom."
There, his suspicions were right. There was the faintest flush of her cheeks, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Amanda was good, he gave her that, but most people especially the young, gave 'tells' to what they were thinking. Spotting them was part of the reason he seldom lost at poker.
Now that he was sure that he had solved the mystery Donald allowed himself to relax. Since they had opened there were official inspections of course but there were quite a few not so official visits as well. Normally those guests were well-to-do, the sort with the connections to get invitations anywhere they wanted.
He did not judge them, how could he? After all, despite seeing it on an almost daily basis the sight of a nubile young pair of buttocks stretched taut as they bent over and gripped their ankles to be punished still had the ability to set his heart racing. It seemed that Amanda shared some of the same interest only she had not had the official connections to get an official tour. What she did have was an uncle who ran the place.
"Ah, here we are," he told her as they reached the security desk and the admissions gate. Beyond that, the Reformatory officially began. On this side of the security gate there were offices and rooms that were taken up by the running of the facility.
The guard on duty behind the desk stood straighter at the sight of the Warden, then her eyes flicked to the young woman at his side. There was a question in her eyes as she studied Amanda.
"Put your right hand through the aperture," he instructed, pointing to the device that looked like a hollow rectangular box, big enough to hold a human hand. There was even the impression of a hand for one's fingers and thumb to rest into.
Following his direction, Amanda raised her hand and put it into the desired position. As soon as she was in place he looked to the guard. "Amanda Howard, visitor."
The guard nodded and quickly typed at the keyboard in front of her, inputting the information he had given her. His assistant had inputted the rest of the data required on any visitor earlier in the day. A second after the guard was finished with the computer a small circular tube of crafted metal descended from the roof of the scanner and pressed against Amanda's hand on the meaty area between her thumb and first finger. She gave a yelp and pulled back her hand.
"I am sorry my dear, I forgot to mention. You have to be tagged with a biochip before entering the secure areas."
Amanda said nothing as she held up her hand to get a closer look. Aside from a small red discolouration no bigger than a penny there was no sign of the chip. Even the discolouration would fade in a few minutes. Most people looked alarmed when they learned of the requirements to gain entry and some rather high profile guests had flat out refused to undergo the procedure, at least until they were told that there was no choice in the matter. If they wanted in to see justice in action they had to be chipped. Amanda didn't look overly concerned but perhaps he should explain. He didn't want to frighten her, at least not too much. However much she irritated him she was, after all, family.
A lot of the security here is automated," Donald began as he nodded to the guard and moved around the side of the desk to the gate. "Hold up your hand to the scanner."
She waved her hand in front of the scanner set in the side frame of the gate and a second later a red light above the door changed to green and the gate slipped open allowing her to step through. As soon as Amanda was through, the gate closed and Donald repeated the process before moving to join her.
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