Truth and Consequence

James glanced around the cell. A bed, narrower than a single, ran along one wall beneath the fluorescent light. Opposite it sat a desk fixed to the floor, a computer terminal boxed into the wall above it with a keyboard and mouse bolted onto the surface below. Between the desk and the corner of the room stood an open set of shelves beside a partitioned compartment where a short stall door separated off the toilet. The room appeared less designed for habitation than containment. Functional. Washable. Difficult to damage. James lowered the clear plastic bag he had been issued onto the bed. Inside were folded sheets, a thin pillow, a blanket, a plastic plate and cup, and a set of white plastic cutlery sealed inside transparent wrapping. His own clothes had already been removed downstairs during processing. Belt. Shoelaces. Watch. Wallet. Phone. Everything reduced systematically into inventory. In their place he now wore grey tracksuit bottoms and a grey sweat...