trary to popur belief, not all prisons are made public by the Uates. There are a select few which are kept both off the maps and off the books. Downside Peiary is one such prison.

  The taser wielding guards herd the prisoners onto the massive, one hundred by thirty meter elevator that stitutes two-thirds of the room. The prisoners are lined up in the ter betweerailers of goods, all bound for the bowels of Downside.

  Ohe prisoners are all aboard, the elevator lurches into a. Screeg gears and dim, flickering fluorest light set the tone for the slow and gloomy dest. Growls, whimpers, and the occasional thump e from the nearby shipping tainers. The thhly scared victs stay pletely silent for the entire dest.

  A mile of crete passes by orip, and after a seemiernity pressed into only a half-hour, the prisoners finally arrive at Downside Peiary. Muards usher them through metal corridors for processing.

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  “ prisoner,” I hear the guard’s bored monotone call as the prisoner in front of me is ushered forward.

  “he processor asks.

  “Daniel Agravan,” the prisoner answers. The processor checks the name on his tablet and then makes sure the prisoner is who he actually is. He taps the tablet several times and then turns to one of the guards.

  “Bck Rank.”

  A guard leaves aurns with a bck bracelet. The bracelet is locked around the prisoner's right ankle and he is ushered inside.

  “ Prisoner.”

  I hear the call and walk towards the processor.

  “Name?”

  “Quasi Eludo.” I state.

  The processor checks my name on his tablet, and then slows down. He looks at the tablet, and then me, and theablet several times.

  “Looks like the powers that be don't want you dead.” He taps the tablet and then turns to one of the armed guards. “Gold Rank,” he states.

  The guard leaves aurns with a vibrant gold bracelet that he tches to my right ankle.

  The processor then looks to the uard. “Please esister Eludo to the gold-wing of the prison and introduce him to the Gold-Blockleiter.”

  The guard nods and, quite nicely, asks me to follow.

  I follow the guard through long reag, paned upper passageways that reveal the enormous scope of the prison—though more of a city than anything else below. Simir to a city, the prison plex has apartment buildings, gyms, workshops, medical areas, libraries, churches, and a massive tral exercise yard.

  From my casual gnce, I also notice that the city is separated into four quadrants, with the smaller quadrants lookier.

  Our trip takes us to the smallest and most well cared for quadrant. Me and the guard enter aor that drops us down to the city ground level. I exit to the curious whispers of many other nearby prisoners—all of which have the same golden band on their ankle as myself.

  “This way. We are almost there.”

  The guard leads me through streets and several buildings until we arrive at the rgest buildi. Above the entrance, arrayed in bright gold, is the wasthaus.

  Wheer, the muted, chilly temperature of the prison outside is repced with an inviting warmth. I am guided iowards yet another elevator, wherein the guard presses the topmost button with his thumb for several seds. After a moment the elevatins to hum with cssical musitil we reach the penthouse. We exit the elevator and arrive in a gaudy, golden-embroiled offi with a gss view of most of the ey. From the view, three simir buildings be seen, including a rge tral building iy's ter.

  “Gold-Blockleiter,” the guard steps forward, “there is a new arrival.”

  The chair behind the desk swivels away from the gss windows with the professionalism of an experienced CEO. When the man swivels to his desk, he pces down the gss of wine he had been holding and then our eyes meet.

  The man smiles warmly.

  “Ahh, yes. Quasi Eludo, the richest man in the world… for a week. I’ve been expeg you.”

  He extends his hand to the seat across his desk.

  “Please, take a seat.”

  I walk to the leather chair and sit my butt down on the cushion.

  He csps his hands together.

  “First, let me introduce myself. I am Herman Toftoy, and I am the leader of the Gold ranked prisoners. My job is to make sure that my prisoners are taken care of and port themselves in an orderly and proper manner.”

  He uncsps his hands, reaches into a drawer arieves a gold-trimmed book. He pushes that book to me.

  “This book tains all the regutions that you as a prisoner are subject to and are expected to follow. When you have time, I highly suggest you read and memorize them all so that you do not find yourself in trouble.”

  I open the first page of the book... and chuckle.

  The Gold-Blockleiter smiles at my rea.

  “It seems you uand.”

  He reaches into his drawer again and this time retrieves a pencil and notebook. He flips open the book and stops on a page.

  “Ahh, perfect. Prisoner 31244 retly passed.” He quickly writes something down oebook and gnces up at the guard behind me.

  “Please take Quasi to cell 821 on the eighth floor.” He looks up at me. “Mister Eludo, please enjoy your stay at Downside.”

  With the rather short introdu pleted. I follow the guard back to the elevator which then takes me to the eighth floor. I exit onto the eighth floor and into a on area with and colorful carpeted fl, a small library, massage chair, video-game soles, and a stocked kit.

  “This way.” The guard leads me past several open and closed cells until we reach cell 21. In the cell is a single bunk bed, with a prisoner already ying otom.

  “Cillian,” the guard knocks on the open cell, “You’ve got a bunkmate now.”

  A round, short man with a magnifit beard groans as he leans up to the side of the bed. He then blinks rapidly and shakes his head.

  “Feeck meee,” he curses, “I must still be jaked. Is that a brat with narry a hair on his ?”

  I grin, “What are you talking about?” I deepen my voice, “I’ve got an amazing goatee,” I stroke my clear , “Your eyes are just failing you.”

  He blinks again. With a det bit of effort, he wipes both eyes with a sleeve. Theakes a proper look at me.

  “You're just a wee brat. Why the feck are children in this prison?”

  The guard sighs, unamused. “This is your new bunkmate. Show him the ropes. I have to get back to work.”

  Without even b to move me into my cell or close the cell door, the guard turns and walks back the way he came.

  As he leaves, Cillian burps with the professionalism of an expert alcoholic.

  He stands up and lifts his mattress a little to grab one of several bottles of ierminate liquid. He opens said bottle and downs half the tents.

  “So,” he asks with a grin, “What the feck did you do to get inta Downside?”

  I grin back. “I bribed a lot of people.”