NBA Dramatique, Prelude 7

Trays were filled with slop. Men shuffled through the food line accepting what they were given, able to muster no enthusiasm for their meal. They carried their trays of “food” to tables they had unofficially claimed as their own, and sat among one another to eat and speak in low tones about secret things. The guards watched everything with an air of disinterest that was false. It was a poorly kept secret that they hoped for an infraction of the rules so they could administer punishment. Punishing brought them both satisfaction and validation.

The prisoners were in identical uniforms, only a number differentiating one man’s shirt from another. To maintain their individuality, each man adorned his skin with multiple tattoos. There was a living art gallery having lunch in the Prison.

“Are we gonna try to do it?” Smith was a young guy. A lot of trouble had found him on the outside. Some of that trouble had managed to find him behind the bars as well.

“Man, you’re always asking questions. Why don’t you shut up? Take it easy. Just ride this out.” Martin had been in a while and seemed to split his time between the infirmary and solitary confinement.

“Chill out, Martin.” The Answer was an old-timer. People inside said that he couldn’t be killed, and they said that because people had tried. “Keep your voices low and look at your food. Don’t draw attention.” He waited a moment while the rest fell silent. “I’ve been on the inside for too long. I don’t want to die in here. I say we try, but we need to get Goldilocks on board.”

The Birdman had just been locked up. He was new to the Prison, but he had a history with people on the inside. He didn’t get the newbie treatment. “I haven’t even seen that guy. I get that he’s the big name in here, but where the hell is he? Was he the guy got paroled?”

“Nah” said the Answer. “That was Marcus. That guy wanted to stay in. Prison said he wasn’t enough of a risk to keep inside for the cost. They let him go. Goldilocks has been goin’ back to court. New evidence came up – four years after the fact. His fate’s up in the air.”

“Well, we’re all listenin’ to you, man. We know you got his ear. Why don’t you talk to Goldilocks for all of us? Let’s get a plan together.”

The Answer put his spoon down and stopped eating. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The thought of spending another day in Warden Karl’s jail made him want to scream. Several more minutes passed without words. Then he said, maybe to himself, maybe to the rest of them, “Yeah. We gotta get out of here.”