Body Swappers 10
Maya and Robert interview an inmate.
There were dress requirements to go to prison. No excessive pockets, padding, or layering. Clothing to maintain modesty and be in good repair. While looking over the guidelines, Maya shrugged. So, she thought, comport myself professionally. Done.
Her hand had strayed towards her favorite shirt and pants, but she’d stayed it. Don’t want to draw too much attention to myself, she’d thought, thinking of the prisoners and definitely not thinking about Robert. She selected instead a more basic outfit, a cool blue, long-sleeved satin shirt and black slacks.
Typically, submitting visitor’s applications prompted at least a month’s wait before approval. Robert had asked an acquaintance of his to put Maya’s applications for the three inmates they’d be seeing on the top of the stack, and her approval had come only days later. She supposed it made sense to cultivate connections at a prison when you worked as a criminal attorney.
Pulling into the parking spot in front of the building, her stomach fluttered. She had the fleeting thought that if her dad were still here, she might not have been able to keep going.
Robert was waiting for her in the parking lot, as he’d said he would. It was a relief that she wouldn’t be alone when she entered the prison for the first time.
When she opened her car door and stood, he said, “Good morning, Maya.”
Maya gave her best professional nod. “Morning, Robert.”
He turned his eyes toward the doors. “We’ll go check in. They’ll take our IDs and give us pink cards instead. We’ll put our car keys in lockers and take the locker keys instead. Ready?”
With that he looked at her, and she imagined he could see how nervous she was. The tightness in her shoulder probably had some kind of reflection in her aura. But when she said, “Lead the way,” he didn’t hesitate, or ask if she was sure. He just started walking them toward the doors.
She and her coworkers commented on one another’s auras at times. He hadn’t. Perhaps he wasn’t used to commenting on people’s auras, given that he wasn’t in a sensitive-specific profession. Maybe he didn’t tend to tell people that he could even see their auras.
The check-in process was about as Robert had said, but with more waiting involved. Maya wondered at how unexpectedly pleasant the prison was. TV had led her to believe that it would be dingy and dark, but it was actually fairly light and clean.
Robert conferred with one guard about the inmates they were here to see, and then another guard patted Robert down. This guard turned to Maya and asked if she’d like a female guard to pat her down. “Yes,” Maya said without a lick of guilt. They waited while a female guard came over. She patted Maya down in a cursory manner, then Robert led Maya through the family visiting room. It had a strangely relaxed atmosphere given the number of guards around. Maya’s eyes skipped over the family where a convict was hugging a child. Despite how nice the building might be, Maya’s hackles were still up.
They went into a private room off the side. They sat at two chairs on the far side of the table, leaving the chair opposite them empty. Maya thought about how close she and Robert were sitting, and wondered if she ought to scoot her chair away. It would be hard to do this in a graceful manner, though.She rolled her shoulder, wondering how much time they would be waiting for a guard to bring in the first inmate.
Robert said, “So how long have you been a crisis management agent?”
“Four years.”
“Could you explain what you do to me?”
“Sure,” Maya said, turning more toward him. “I continually train in various disciplines for all kinds of skills that would be helpful in a crisis situation. My company signs contracts with individuals who might want assistance in a crisis situation. When the contract is drawn up, they select a key phrase that they can think to themselves to trigger a transference. They can do this at any time–it doesn’t have to be a literal emergency. For example, some people just want a second opinion about the person they’re interacting with…usually a person trying to suss out whether they’re in a toxic relationship. But it’s expensive, so it tends to only be real crisis situations I get sucked into.”
“And so you can get drawn into a crisis situation at any time?”
“Oh, no, that would be dangerous! Only when we’re in the crystal grid that is also referenced at the time the contract is signed.” She tilted her head. “Really, though, we use a contract to sanitize the whole process for skeptics. That’s not what ties it all together. It’s the rituals that we perform around the contract process that make it work.”
“I see.”
They sat in a more comfortable silence than they had before. Then the door opened.
The man who walked in looked like he had not aged well. He had a haunted expression on his face, bags under his eyes, and he shot a glance at the guard behind his back before sitting in the chair. His jumpsuit had the name Gimble on the front.
“You’re the lawyers?” he asked, looking at Robert. Maya stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he went straight to addressing the man in the room.
“I’m an attorney. My name is Robert Sullivan. My colleague, Maya Cote, is a Crisis Management Agent. We were hoping you could answer a few questions about the murder you’re convicted of.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“We believe you,” Robert said. Maya wished he hadn’t spoken for her. She hadn’t heard anything yet to convince her of his innocence.
“You gonna help me get my name cleared?”
“We would love to. I read your file. You said you were going about your day, then you were suddenly sitting in a chair in the dark. Is that right?”
The guy sat back in his chair, a sour look on his face. “I’m not crazy.”
“We believe you,” Robert repeated. “We think we know what happened to you, but we need more details.”
The convict looked like he was chewing on a lemon rind. Eventually, he said, “Yeah, it was suddenly dark. I tried to get up, but I was strapped down. But I hadn’t been, just before that.”
Robert nodded, smiling lightly, looking as encouraging as he could. Maya said, “I haven’t read it yet. You have an opportunity to explain it to me, for the first time. What happened next?”
He sighed. “I felt around with my hands, and found something. A combo lock. I thumbed it for ages, and it ended up clicking. Then I was able to pull the restraints off me. I got up, and walked to the window. Pulled the blinds, and then…” He grimaced, and stopped talking.
“Then what?” Robert asked.
“I was back where I’d been before.”
Maya asked, “Did you see anything through the window, before you were back?”
His face slammed shut, but his aura was flashing orange. “Buildings. What do you want from me?”
Robert said, “Relax. We’re on your side here. If you don’t want to describe it, that’s okay. What we’d really like here is to see what you saw. Do you know what Crisis Management Agents do?”
Gimble’s aura slowly flooded with blue. He looked at Robert, then Maya, then back to Robert. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
Robert frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Maya said, “He doesn’t believe in magic.”
“That ain’t it,” Gimble said, leaning back in his chair. “I know what happened to me. Seems you do, too. Problem is, that doesn’t matter to the court. Does it?”
“Not yet,” Maya said, “but there’s an initiative on the ballot–”
“Stuff your initiative,” he said, standing. “It won’t pass. Even if it does, do you think it’ll make any difference for me?”
“Hold on,” Robert said, holding up a hand. “What if I offered to represent you pro bono? I’ll file a motion for relief for you.”
Gimble made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “Do what you like. Won’t make a difference.” He turned and told the guard. “I’m ready to go back now.”
The guard let Gimble out, and Robert and Maya were alone.
“That was less than helpful,” Robert said. “Hopefully we have some better luck with subsequent interviews.”
Maya turned to him. “Why did you lie to the police?”
His aura flashed pink. “What?”
“About Frank being suicidal. You told them he’d slipped. But if you realized I hadn’t made him jump–that he’d decided to himself–why would you have said that?”
“Oh.” Robert straightened. “Because you think I should have had them involuntarily commit him?”
“Yeah.”
“Typically I’d agree with you. Suicidal people often regret their attempts, so it’s good to keep them from being successful long enough for them to change their minds. But I didn’t think giving Frank a time-out was going to do that.”
Maya flushed. “You can’t know that.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But I thought there was a better approach.”
Maya blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Do you know why he was trying to kill himself?”
“Of course I do, I was in his head. His wife had cheated on him, and in response he was trying to defraud her of any kind of inheritance she would get from his passing.”
“Right. He was deeply hurt by her.”
“That doesn’t make it right!”
“I didn’t say I approved of his actions,” Robert said, smiling lightly. “But I told him that if he killed himself, he would never get satisfaction. I told him that if he told her how hurt he was by what she’d done, she might have something to say for herself. I knew it wasn’t guaranteed to convince him, of course. But I could tell through his aura that something I’d said resonated with him. I was fairly certain he’d go talk to her rather than trying again right away.”
She softened a little. “You can’t know that.”
“No, not for sure. But he’s dying anyway. I didn’t really think it made sense for his last days to be spent held against his will.”
Maya didn’t have a response to that. The silence stretched between them, until the door opened again.
This scene may be suffering from a bit of what I like to call “Talking Head Syndrome.” If you have any thoughts for alleviating this, or any other feedback, let me know in the comments.