The Sentenced

by Vin Diesels Go-Kart

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Human, Dark
Length: 2560

A drastic reformation of the criminal justice system has left one felon scheduled for public execution. However, this death sentence quickly turns into a fight for survival, with more lives than just his on the line.

In a grim future, where the overpopulation of criminals has lead to a drastic reformation of the justice system, a convicted felon is about to face punishment for his crime; a punishment that will be carried out while millions watch from their homes.

However, the swift and brutal execution he was expecting soon turns into a desperate fight for survival, with more lives than just his on the line.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-10-20 22:40:15 UTC

Chapter 1: Fate Machine

The room was cold.

That was the only accurate description one could provide about it. There were no features to speak of; even the walls lacked any detail. There were no marks or imperfections, no cobwebs or dust clusters. It was the very definition of sterile. Of course, everything was sterile at that point, both inside the room and out.

Well, maybe the room wasn't completely featureless. There was a door on two of the walls. One I had used to enter the room, the other had remained closed, a digital clock set above it with 09:54 glowing red off its face. It was eerily quiet, as well. After spending so much time in Gen Pop, I had forgotten what it was like without other people around. The silence was almost more oppressive than the prison I had called home for seven months.

The only friendly face I knew, and the last friendly face I would probably ever see, was standing right across from me, the neon light from the clock illuminating him in the otherwise pitch-black enclosure. He regarded me with eyes that I could tell were trying to be warm and reassuring, but years spent in his occupation had eroded the warmth and replaced it with the cold truth that was our reality. There was no way to sugarcoat it. I knew he had been in this room many times before, and that he was fully aware of what it meant, and where I was going.

Even still, I appreciated his attempt to make me feel better. He was always good to me. A state-appointed defense attorney, he had done his best to have me acquitted, even if it was a pointless pursuit. Near the end of my trial period, our conversations in the visitor's room gradually drifted away from defense tactics and eventually turned into casual conversation.

He would tell me about his wife and four children. I would tell him stories about my own family; my parents, grandparents, siblings, and cousins. The family I'd had before... before everything happened.

His name was Jack Rowland, and he was easily the closest friend I'd ever had. He was a portly gentleman, and had a demeanor not unlike the other officials who worked in the courts. He would talk like them, dress like them, and act like them when needed to; but behind closed doors, he was someone else entirely. He was someone I could identify with, a kind man just trying to get by for his family. It made me wonder how many others there were in the justice department that weren't completely cold and heartless, but I concluded long ago that there weren't many. Not anymore, at least.

I always feared that one day the job would break him. That one day it would all be too much for Jack, and he would fully become an emotionless husk of the man I'd come to know. It pained me to think that he could turn out that way. I couldn't imagine seeing him like that, but luckily if a day were to come when it happened, I wouldn't be there to witness it.

"You ready, kid?"

I was jerked from my thoughts by the sound of his raspy voice. Looking up at him, I saw that he was now intently watching the clock, which now read 09:56.

I glanced back to him and gave him a sarcastic look, at which he smirked.

"Sorry, kid. Stupid question."

Letting out a sigh, I shook my head. "I guess I'm as ready as I could ever hope to be."

He nodded. "Did the priest swing by and give you your last rites?"

"No," I said, smiling and shaking my head. "I figured he wouldn't be able to give me any survival advice, or tell me how to disable the Witnesses, so I decided to opt out of his visit."

"Hey, you'd be surprised," Jack laughed. "Father Samuel fought in the Eastern Conflict half a century and a lifetime ago. Earned the Medal of Honor for bravery. I bet he still knows a few things."

Now I laughed as well, putting a hand to my face. "Well, dammit."

It was now two minutes until ten.

"How was your last meal?" I heard him ask.

"Pretty good." I replied, squeezing my knuckles. I could feel a familiar emotion welling up in my stomach. It was similar to when I'd had to do an oral presentation in school, or go to the dentist. I could feel my face getting red.

Jack must have noticed my change in behavior, because he swiftly crossed the room we were in, putting a hand on my shoulder. "What'd you have?"

I took a few breaths to calm myself down, hating myself for getting this way. I had already made an internal promise that I wasn't going to give them a show, but now I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep that promise.

However, Jack's hand on my shoulder seemed to help with my nerves, as the feeling of panic slowly dulled and then went away almost completely.

I smiled at him. "I had pizza, two burgers, a side of fries, and a milkshake."

"The dinner of champions." he commented, nodding in approval.

We both stayed quiet for a few seconds. One minute to ten.

"Where do you think the location will be?" I finally asked.

The look that he gave me said it all. He was expecting that kind of question, but still hoped to God I wasn't going to ask it. Looking away from me, he eyed the clock above the door. "I'm not sure, kid. The machine will choose at random. It's usually best not to think about it."

Ignoring him, I continued my inquiry. "How long have you seen someone last?"

Jack looked down, still averting my gaze, and sighed. "Listen, I don't usually stay and watch-"

"How long?" I asked again. He finally looked up at me, and saw the desperation in my eyes. A deep sadness seemed to wash over him. I knew this conversation had been in the back of his mind the whole time we'd known each other. From the moment he first met me, he knew that this is where we would eventually end up; standing in this very room, at this very time, and talking about what was to come.

My friend looked back at me. "Maybe a day or two."

Tears were forming in his eyes and he started squinting. His breathing became labored, and his knees started trembling. Without another thought, I quickly embraced him, trying to calm him down, and internally laughed at the irony of who was comforting who. It was funny, though. I wasn't nervous anymore.

"I love you, kid." he whispered softly, trying hard to keep his composure.

Smiling and hugging him tighter, I said, "I love you too... I'm gonna miss you."

Fifteen seconds to ten. A soft buzzing started emanating from somewhere in the room, alerting me that it was time to take my place.

I pulled away from Jack, who gave my shoulder one last squeeze before letting me go. Then, after giving him a final nod, I took my position in front of the door.

After ten seconds, the soft buzzing stopped, and silence once again reigned for all of five more seconds. Then, with a hiss, a few clicks, and a clang, the metal door slowly opened, allowing more light to enter the room.

Ahead of me, beyond the door, was a wide tunnel just as featureless as the room I'd been in. There was nothing contained within it, and what awaited me on the other side was completely concealed by light. It would have been unnerving, even scary, if I hadn't already known what was up ahead. Jack had run me through the process a dozen times before. There weren't anymore surprises.

I started walking through the passageway, timidly at first, but with each step I took, my posture improved with my growing confidence. I was still going to refuse to give them the show they wanted. The light became more intense the closer I got to it, and eventually I had to close my eyes completely, praying I wouldn't walk into a wall. I knew Jack was still looking at me; watching as I was swallowed by the light. I wanted desperately to look back at him, but willed myself to keep moving forward.

Finally, to my relief, I made it past the threshold, and my eyes adjusted to the brighter atmosphere. The room I now found myself in looked like a pre-reformation courtroom. Rows of empty benches lined both sides of the room and a narrow path led up to a pair of double doors, which opened up to the front of the courtroom. Past the double doors were two sets of tables, followed by a large desk which currently seated five men. Other than myself and two guards, they were the only ones in the room.

The guards, who had been positioned on each side of the tunnel mouth, now walked up to me. They were dressed in full combat gear, with gas masks concealing their faces. Neither guard looked down at me. They were simply there to make sure I didn't try anything. The press wasn't allowed in this area, but several Witnesses were hovering above the courtroom. The flying cameras recorded everything they saw, and would broadcast it live on one or more channels of television, as was standard for these types of executions. They were fascinating little devices, having a whole assortment of surveillance equipment that made pre-reformation tech look dull in comparison.

I started walking up to the front of the room, past the double doors, and stood behind the left-hand table. The guards took a seat behind me as I waited for the proceedings to begin. As I waited, I studied each of the five men who now faced me. None were looking at me yet, as they were busy reviewing papers and filing things away. At least, that's what they pretended to be doing.

Jack had told me it was just an act they put on to look sophisticated and important to the public. They all wore similar clothing, black robes with white wigs. Three had glasses, and one had a monocle. Other than some minor facial differences, the five men could have easily been clones.

At last, one of the men cleared his throat, getting ready to speak, and all five looked in my direction.

"Please, state your name." one of them requested, looking at me stoically.

One of the Witnesses buzzed over and hovered in front of me, producing a microphone from somewhere inside its jet-black body.

I leaned in closer. "Douglas Lawson."

There was a slight pause, and then a different man spoke.

"Douglas Lawson. You stand before this assembly having been charged and convicted of three counts of first degree murder; a Class A felony. In accordance with New Governance State Law 74, you have been sentenced to death. In accordance with New Governance State Law 86, you have been selected to have this sentence carried out via Killing Field."

Another pause, before another of them spoke up. "A Field will be selected at random using the TDF Emitter. After selection, you will be sent to the chosen location and released. You will remain in this location until you expire, or until the seventy-two hour mark is reached. If you have not expired after seventy-two hours, an Executioner will be dispatched to carry out the sentence. Your death will be internationally televised in accordance with New Governance State Law 91."

This time there was no pause before the next one spoke. "Douglas Lawson, do you understand all that has been said thus far?"

The five of them looked at me, patiently waiting for a response, but I didn't make them wait long.

"Yes, I understand." I replied.

They all nodded in unison before turning their attention to a small, grey and black box sitting on a table in the middle of the room. One of the guards got up and walked over to it, punching a few keys and then waiting. The box was used to randomly select the killing field.

It was kind of funny, actually. I had been hoping for some kind of lottery machine, where the ping-pong balls flew around and then a beautiful woman would pick one up and show it to the cameras. Sadly, the real thing was much less interesting.

After about thirty seconds, the box dispensed a piece of paper, which the guard promptly took and handed to the only man who hadn't spoken yet. The man read the paper and then all of them turned back to me.

"The location that has been selected is Field 362." he said, pressing a button.

To my left, part of the wall slid to the side and revealed a small opening. I couldn't see much of the inside, but Jack had told me that it was where the Field Emitter was kept. It was one of the most advanced instruments ever conceived, able to open up portals to other dimensions on a whim. I didn't really pay attention in physics class, but it was theorized that there were an infinite number of dimensions and universes, or something like that, and the TDF Emitter was able tap into those worlds. Apparently, it got sort of complicated, but killing convicted criminals for entertainment was just one of the many uses the Emitter had.

All I knew was that this Emitter was going to open a doorway to the world designated 362, and that world would be my grave. That was the declaration of the justice system and the decision of the machine that had just sealed my fate.

The door to my left hummed to life, and a green light started blinking at the top.

The first of the five men spoke again. "The TDF Emitter is ready. You may now enter the doorway."

There wasn't anything spectacular about the portal. It didn't even look like a portal. It was just solid black with a liquid look to it. Pretty boring, actually.

Nevertheless, I approached the doorway, ready to carryout my sentence. Five of the Witnesses flew in line behind me, ready to follow me into the killing field and record every second of my death. I don't think I had fully registered the fact that I was truly about to die, because I still wasn't scared. There were times back at the prison when I contemplated suicide, but ultimately I decided that it wasn't the way I wanted to go. My family wouldn't have wanted it that way, so I would face this sentence with my head held high. I wouldn't grovel or beg. I would die with dignity.

Everyone else I knew had.

The door began to swallow me as I passed through it. I didn't think about much during the transition; I just let my mind go blank.

I was no longer looking at the five men, so I wasn't sure which of them spoke next. All I heard was the parting words he gave me.

"May your death be dignified, Douglas Lawson, and may God have mercy on your soul."