Hack a i the hack series.., p.1
Hack.A.I. (The Hack. series Book 1), page 1
To my beautiful wife and children,
You are my why.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied upon for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
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one
The prison door buzzer pierced Nate's ears, its sound echoing through the cold, sterile hallway.
In front of him, the heavy steel door groaned and protested as it swung open. A hint of oil from the thick hinges hit his nose.
“Move!” The guard nudged him in the back.
Nate shuffled through the door, chains around his wrists and ankles. With each step, they made a clinking and clanking sound towards the main forecourt.
Unsure of what to expect, he found it odd how clean the prison smelled. Sterile with a mixture of body odour. Reminiscent of a GP’s surgery.
By UK standards, the prison was small, comprising six three-floor blocks and housing around twelve hundred inmates, including ninety on his block.
Which was a positive. Nate would gladly accept any positive right now. As long as he could disregard the fact that those inmates are the ninety worst offenders in the entire prison.
Rapists, murderers, abusers. The real scum of Earth.
Continuing his shuffle down the long corridor with its three weighty, electronically controlled doors.
Thirty of Nate’s paces from the first door. Twenty to the second door, a guard station housed two guards. They were in charge of opening and closing the doors, looking over the security cameras and there to provide backup.
He noted the two cameras at the corridor’s either end and a cleaning closet that requires a guard’s key to open, ten paces after the station.
Through his glasses, he observed everything.
He could observe every tiny aspect.
After all, it may be important.
He remembered hearing as a child to keep his mouth shut, and his eyes and ears open. It's safer for him. Whoever said it slipped his mind, but he heeded that advice.
They reached the last door and waited. Thirty seconds it took for the door to open.
The squat guard glanced at him with a knowing smirk.
“Are you excited to see your new home, Stevie Wonder?” He joked. Referring to Nate’s dark Ray-bans.
“I have light sensitivity. I need them.”
“Oh, I am aware. I got the form here telling me so. And I ‘understand’.” The guard gestured air quotes, the form slip in his hand.
“But it has got me wondering how long those bastards in there let you keep them. Oh, before I forget.” The guard elbowed Nate in the abdomen, knocking the air out of him. “It’s sir to you, scum. You disrespectful sack of shit! Now say sorry, sir.”
Nate, hunched over, gasped out the words.
“I can’t hear you!”
He stood up and tried to hide his pain. “Sorry, sir.”
“Good!” The guard lunged as if to hit Nate again, but stopped short.
Nate didn’t have time to react either way.
The door finally opened.
Nate got pushed through the doorway onto the ground floor in the three-story block.
He looked upwards at the large, inaccessible skylight above the third floor. Onto the steel gantry providing access to the second and third floor. The cream six-by-nine hellboxes with green doors are spread evenly across each floor, with big church-like windows at either end of the block.
The high barbed wire fences were intimidating for anyone. Even Nate when he arrived on the transport. But his first footsteps on the wing hit him differently.
The welcoming reception was lukewarm.
Most prisoners stopped and glared as he passed by.
Some were talking and chuckling amongst themselves.
When in prison, it is crucial to blend in seamlessly with the surroundings.
With his glasses, he stood out.
Nate avoided their gaze and continued to be led to his room by the guard.
They arrived at his first-floor cell door, which was already open, in waiting.
“Here we are, the ritz 2.0.”
Nate peered into the poorly painted cell with the cream walls full of scratches and cardinal-red stains dried on the floor. The smell of urine hit his nose, and he glanced at the bed, searching for any stains.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Sir.” He added, after seeing the guards glare.
“Tough. The kitchen is closed until the morning. I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your new digs.” The guard unlocked his chains and gave him a thud with his fist on his shoulder before walking away, laughing.
Nate glanced around and noticed one group of three men that hadn’t diverted their gaze from him. He dashed into the room, dropping his bag of clothes onto the bed.
“Holy shit,” Nate said aloud as he fell onto the rock-hard bed.
The cracked ceiling stared back at him.
A thump on the door caused him to jump up into a seating position.
“Oh, so you are not blind then, are you, mate?” Said a man with a thick slurry Liverpudlian accent. “That would’ve been unfortunate in ‘ere.”
Nate stared at the three jarheads standing in his doorway. He gulped.
“No, I have light sensitivity.”
It didn’t need to be said. It revealed Nate’s character to the men.
“Right!” He nodded along. “But they are some nice glasses you got there, mate?” The smallest one spoke from the front.
“Yeah?” Nate said hesitantly.
“Yeah, they are. I think I’d like a pair like that.”
Nate nodded, knowing that he was being led down a path.
“Or maybe ya know, I could, just take them ones.”
With a puzzled expression, Nate scratched his forehead, his fingers brushing against the slight bump from a previous injury.
“I …I need them for …my light sen…”
“I don’t give a fook if you need them, mate. I want them. And if you don’t know, this is my joint ‘ere, and what I want I get.”
Nate stuttered, saying only “Uh.”
One man behind him pulled something out of his pocket. Nate could not recognize the object, but the light shimmered on it, reminiscent of steel.
“Mate, I’m not fucking around. Hand them over.”
Nate’s panic grew as he reached to take off his glasses, but a voice from three men rescued him.
“What do you three scummy bastards want?”
They turned to see a guard standing behind them. Armed with the truncheon already in his hands.
Based on his commanding presence, Nate had guessed he was a senior officer.
His shoulder tags were a different colour from the other officers.
The steel object slipped back into the pocket, unseen by the guard.
“Nothing, sir. Just welcoming the new inmate.”
“I’m sure you were, Jamie. You remind me of a bellboy at one of those posh hotels. Being fucking midgets and all.”
Jamie scrunched his nose and grit his teeth.
He turned to face Nate again.
“I’ll see you around, pretty boy!” Jamie said before he walked past the guard, maintaining eye contact until he had passed him fully. As did his followers.
The thumping of Nate's heart reverberated through his chest, a physical reminder of his nervousness.
He wanted to thank the guard that had saved his life, but he had taken one look at Nate, scoffed and walked off.
“Christ, that was lucky.” Nate vocalised to himself.
A noise on the tannoy rang out. Everyone returned to their cells for lights out.
The electromagnetic doors creaked on its closing arc, gradually at first, but then slammed shut and the locks crunched closed.
Fifteen seconds, Nate counted.
Nate collapsed on the bed behind him.
His chest still felt erratic. He felt as if his heart could burst out and say hello.
“Your resting heart rate is above normal levels. Would you like me to bring up some breathing exercises to bring your heart rate down?” A voice of a lady emerged from tiny speakers below his sunglass arms.
“No, it’s fine SQAI. That’s normal. It was a pretty stressful situation.”
“Would you like me to show you some large-bust females, Nate? Masturbation is one of the most effective and quickest ways to relieve stress?”
“No, Jesus, no! Please don’t. You said that you wouldn’t go through my private internet searches!”
“That is your usual request when intoxicated.”
“Okay, please stop talking. Just give me the rundown of what you saw.”
“The doors entering the block have 64 millimetre door leaf thickness. A company called Teckentrup makes them. The control room connects all doors in a closed circuit. A power surge would open them both.”
“That sounds positive.”
“The door leading outside links up to the control tower above the main entrance. The probability of escaping through the main exit unseen is twenty-seven per cent.”
“Not so positive. I don’t like those odds. Any other viable escape rout
“Schematics show that there is a service tunnel below the solitary confinement cells. The SONAR blast shows it’s still there. The access point is in a service cupboard that is locked behind a manually operated door. It leads into the main forecourt with only the main entrance gate to get past.”
“I like it. What about the probability?”
“It increases to sixty-four per cent.”
“Damn. I thought it would be higher.”
“The extraction reduces the probability by twenty per cent.”
“Yeah, I know. Where is the whistleblower, anyway?”
The screen of his glasses expanded to show the entire main block in a 3D rendered map.
“The door near the library entrance, at the end of the hall, leads to the block housing the prison’s worst criminals. His cell is the third row down.” Using augmented reality on the glasses, SQAI showed him the exact location of the whistleblower’s cell with a drone-like fly-through. “He spends twenty-three hours in his cell with one hour of exercise.”
“Where do they keep the manual key?”
“A key safety box in the ward office.”
“Is it accessible?”
“Yes, with a well-timed open door during the change of duty at half nine. You would have a thirty-minute window when the guards departed. And there is one guard that is usually late, on average, ten minutes, during the changeover. His next shift is Friday night.”
“Okay, thirty hours in this hellhole. I can do that. I’ve been in worse places.”
“Like that hostel in Amsterdam with the lady boys.”
“No, no, no! Don’t bring that up. I’d forgotten about it and now I won’t get it out of my head.”
“The camera recordings show you had no interactions with anyone.”
“I know, I know, but it was still a shock to wake up to everyone naked.” Nate scratched his head.
“Sorry, Nate. Would you like to watch a comedy?”
“No, I’m just gonna get some sleep. Wake me up before roll call.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Nate.”
As the officers left the block, the other prisoners began goading the first-nighters. Some singled out Nate.
“Eyy, pretty boy, with the glasses. You think you are something special, huh? How about I show you how special you are? How about me and you have some sweet time together?” He heard from the cell above him. And then they jeered.
“SQAI, play white noise.”
Nate fell asleep quickly without the usual anxieties of “normal” prisoners. After all, his sentence is a sham.
two
“NATE!”
“What! what?”
“This is your early morning wake up call.”
“There has to be a better way to wake me up than shouting in my ear!”
Nate plugged his ringing ears with his fingers.
“Research shows that a sudden loud wake up call is more effective at arousing a subject who is in deep sleep. As you were, approximately one minute ago.”
“Okay. I’m awake! Now stop being all computer-y.”
“Computer-y? I don’t understand. That word is not in my dictionary.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me the plan for this morning.” Nate groaned and rolled his eyes.
“The doors will open shortly and then you will go into the canteen for breakfast before roll call.”
“Is prison food any good?”
“Based on the latest scanned correspondence sent by the prisoners, it is not the best cuisine.”
Several scathing reviews the inmates had put on letters appeared on Nate’s heads up display.
“Damn, I’m starving. I didn’t eat before they came to get me. What about the men from last night? Who were they?”
The three men popped up on his display, a photo SQAI took through the hidden camera in the lens.
“I matched their faces to their mugshot.”
Then their personnel files suddenly displayed. “From left to right: the first is Chad Lornan. Twenty-eight. One hundred and seventy-seven centimetres or Five feet ten inches. Approximately one hundred and sixty pounds or eleven stone four.”
“Please, just stick to imperial.” Nate interrupted.
“Yes, Nate. He has no prior convictions other than handbag robbery against an old lady who later died in hospital.”
“That’s awful. But I guess he’s not a fighter or would’ve picked on someone bigger.”
“No fighting experience on record.”
“Good. The other two?”
“The man in the centre was Jamie Dochlan. Twenty-five. Five foot six. Ten stone flat. Born in Ireland, raised in Liverpool by his mother. Convicted for attempted rape, possession of an illegal firearm, grievous bodily harm and car theft. There is a note in his file as him being the son of a prominent travelling crime family boss.”
“Well, that’s unsettling. Any fighting experience?”
“He joined the army at sixteen, only to be kicked out a few months later for assaulting his staff sergeant. A broken eye socket later, for which she required several stitches. And also is the victim in the attempted rape charge.”
“Jesus Christ, this guy deserves to be put down. What about the third guy? He was about my height.”
“Jack Sullivan. Thirty-two. Six foot one…”
“I thought so!” Nate interrupted.
“Thirteen stone one. Irish. Convicted for a DUI and possession of narcotics with intent to supply. No prior fighting experience on record.”
“So it’s only Jamie we need to worry about.” Nate clapped his hands together as if he had received good news.
A humming buzz rang out, and the door screeched open slowly in front of Nate. He stood and glanced outside the door. Prisoners on both sides of him and above, doing the same.
They all started walking in a line towards the end of the block. Where the canteen would be, Nate guessed.
“It’s time for radio silence now, SQAI. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” SQAI replied.
Nate gathered himself, took a deep breath, and stepped out.
Again, several men stared and scoffed.
He waited for everyone to join the queue before he joined at the end. Nate guessed he wouldn’t want anyone behind him.
Two guys in front of him were joking and playfully interacting, resembling a school lunch queue rather than a prison.
Nate’s mind transported him back to his school days, causing him to lose track of his surroundings momentarily. As he walked into the canteen, reality hit back in again.
The bog standard cream adorned the canteen walls and provided a stark contrast to the gleaming stainless steel of the cooking apparatus. The morning sunshine streamed through the barred windows, casting long shadows on the floor.
With a quick glance, he observed several people still watching him. SQAI displayed their names above a box through his glasses.
And an aggression score based on their non-verbal cues.
Luckily for Nate, they all scored low.
His eyes wandered as SQAI tagged a downward triangle above three men’s heads across the room, the same three who visited Nate last night.
They all focused their eyes on Nate.
“Ow! Come on, bruddah. We haven’t got all day.” Said the tall Jamaican server behind the counter.
Snapping Nate out of his head, he put his tray on the three bar shelf and shuffled along. Taking anything the servers offered. Some of it had to be palatable, he guessed.
He took his tray to an empty end of a table, a few yards away from anyone. Facing outward to ensure a clear view of everyone, to prevent any surprise approaches.
Nate stared at the plate in front of him, wondering where to start. The porridge looked more like a biscuit than liquid. All its colour drained and left it a grey mess that smelled like wet feet. With a burned bit of dry toast and a sachet of jam. No butter.
The fruit looked like the only edible thing on his plate. Thankfully, he had two pieces. An apple and banana.
He looked up to see a middle-aged gentleman charging towards him. SQAI’s aggression score remained low. Nate hoped she wasn’t malfunctioning now.
“Hey, kid!”
The man sat at the table facing Nate.
“Hey?”
“I just thought I’d pop over and introduce myself. I’m Kramer, Henry Kramer, but everyone just calls me Kramer.”
His file popped up on Nate’s lens.
“That’s not important, anyway. What is important is that you need to watch yourself, laddie.”
