By the time his first year was done, everyone knew his name–and most of them feared him. The gang had become a company at this point, and a rather wealthy one. If anyone wanted to travel the halls safely, they knew not to count on the guards–they counted on Tanner and his guards–or else they were certain to be raped by Tanner’s goons. He had more credits than he knew what to do with. He finally found a hair suppression package, and while it also made him bald, he was finally clean of that disgusting coat of fur that he’d learned to live with but still hated. He could pay anyone to service him, whenever he wanted-he hadn’t been fucked in months, and it was nice being a top again. When the guards came soon after to escort him to his assignment hearing, he actually asked them if he could stay–the guards just laughed, told him no, and hauled him off. He worried, fleetingly, about whether his company would survive, but why should he care? He wasn’t going back there–no one came back from an assignment hearing, that he’d heard of. He wasn’t even sure what an assignment hearing was–he knew it involved a panel of wardens determining a candidate’s future path through the facility, but no one really knew what those paths were. Of course, he knew about Jackson’s path as a level five candidate, and he assumed there were levels all the way down to one, but he didn’t have to worry. He’d done well as a provisional candidate, in his mind–he’d reformed the place, for goodness sake! Everyone was much safer, provided they were paying him to be so. They should be thanking him for doing the damn job their guards were refusing to do.
The guards led him to a small conference room, where five people were seated at a table. One of them was Jackson, though he was dressed in civilian clothing without his band–he must have been released at some point in the last year. He looked good, actually–Tanner wondered if he might want another round with Tanner’s cock, it was substantially longer than it had been when he’d been an initiate, and in his opinion, he as much more skilled with it. He sat down in front of the panel, and they began speaking about his performance and character in the provisional block–and the confidence he’d felt began to wither with doubt. They didn’t seem happy with him. If anything, they were quite distressed by what he’d done. There were lots of statements like, “We’ve rarely had someone display such a cold, calculating, and callous approach to the welfare of their fellow candidates,” and “the mere fact that he never even pursued legitimate means of obtaining credit demonstrates his utter contempt for society’s laws and customs.” He looked to Jackson, but the man avoided his gaze–the one time he caught his eyes, the emotion was difficult to understand–equal parts pity, fear and deep contempt.
“I don’t understand,” Tanner said at some point, interrupting them, “I thought–I mean, if there’s no rules, then what does it matter what we do down there? I was making people safer! I got raped my first fucking day in that damn block–now, newbies have a week grace period! I fucking did your guards damn job for them, and now you’re mad at me?”
“So, you really believe that what you did was not only worthy of praise, but also moral?” an older man asked.
“Yes! That’s how the world works, right? I mean, I was successful. I had more credits than anyone else. I thought we were supposed to want credits, right? Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Generally, greed counts against you,” said another panel member.
That stunned Tanner into a moment of silence. “I wasn’t being greedy, I just thought it was a game.”
“A game he says,” the panel member said, “This is why he should be classified as a one.”
“I just think that with the right rehab, he would make a fine two,” a member replied.
“Do you really think that’s worth the risk?”
“If we just motivate him in the right direction–”
“He has no instinct for the right direction,” it was the first time Jackson had spoken. He spoke to the panel, but was glaring at Tanner, “I lived with him for two months, and while I knew he was never going to amount to a four, or even a three, I never would have imagined this. He belongs with the zeros.”
The panel was silent, considering the thought.
“What’s…I don’t understand what these numbers mean.”
“We’re discussing what level of candidacy to assign you, Tanner. Didn’t you read the packet we provided you a week ago, in preparation for this hearing?”
He recalled the packet, handed to him by a guard, but he’d ignored it.
“I think we’ve deliberated enough. We appreciate your input, Jackson. The vote will be put to the five committee members present. Please indicate your score for the candidate, and we will average the result.”
“One.”
“Three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Zero,” said Jackson, the final vote. The malice in his voice was very apparent, and somehow this wounded Tanner more than anything else. He remembered that advice Jackson had given him, before all this had happened.
“You told me–you told me I had to be strong!” he shouted at Jackson, but he didn’t reply–he just stared Tanner down until he averted his eyes away from him.
“The candidate’s average is one-point-four; The candidate will be designated a level one candidate, with a possible promotion to level two upon later review.”
“No–No! I fucking deserve better than this!” He shouted, standing up from his chair. “You can’t just fucking do this shit to me! I didn’t know what I was doing, it’s not my fault that you don’t give us any fucking direction in there! What the fuck did you expect to happen?”
“We expect you all to reveal your innermost selves and desires,” one of the warden’s said, “and you made yours quite clear to all of us here.”
He stalked forward, but with a prick from his band his legs turned to jelly underneath him, and he collapsed to the floor of the conference room.
“Guards, take the subject to solitary. Reset his hormone levels and begin him on a basic level one regimen. Once complete, the subject will begin a provisional level one reeducation program under the direction of Warden Bitterman.”
Bracken's Corner 