Prisoner K-2394 (World Building Notes)

@alonicus released a prompt recently regarding prisons in our setting. Through the prompt post, we're asking about what they look like, and how people are treated in them, and we can write with the perspective of a character being impressed; which gives us the opportunity to imagine it from the ground, rather than an omnipotent presence observing the world from above.

Here's The Post If You'd Like To Join In.

Source

All Hail The Council of Justice

       "Get a move on, we don't have all day," the guard grumbled.
       Aldric Dalton was too busy staring at the floor to pay close mind to the man's voice. A swift kick to the ankle grabbed his attention, but before he could react to that he felt a hand around the scruff of his shirt. Wrenched to his feet Aldric found himself standing. He stared forward and he was left lightheaded by the sudden rush of blood. A knee to the ass got him walking, or staggering more like.
       Passing by other defendants in the hall filled him with a sense of ease; a vacant glare; the odd half-hearted nod; someone too afraid to do either stared through tears in their eyes, as if expecting help from a random person facing his own trial.
       The corridor was bright but old. The ceilings were so far up he could barely read the inscriptions, or see the pictures painted up there. From what he could tell, the pictures were of past criminals and past head justice members. Vibrant colours were badly faded, and in some places, cracks in the paint left blank patches that did nothing but interrupt the idea. The building itself was pre-war, so wear and tear was to be expected. The walls were plain, sparsely decorated with fake plants and old frames which projected holo-images of each of the council members staring stoically at him.
       Two double doors ahead led to his innocence or guilt; his freedom or incarceration. Determined by his ability to prove his point, or perhaps lie his way out of it.
       "Stop." The guard commanded. Once the words left his mouth, Aldric's feet followed by stopping immediately.

       An administrator rushed in front of Aldric and grabbed his wrist. All he could do was allow his right arm to flop around loosely in the grip of a Human who had lost his soul. Dead eyes crawled over his skin. Cold hands slapped at his forearm. Then he saw the needle glint in the bright light. The prick was almost painless, clearly the last do hadn't fully worn off. A spot of blood fell out of his vein and as he stared at it a small blue dot appeared; jerking around the cut it danced, and soon the red drop was dry, and the exit was closed.
       "Sedative administered," a thin voice responded, the Human cast a look over Aldric's shoulder, there was no doubt that the grin that followed was intended for the Trisken guard.
       "Move." The voice called out, and a shove to his back got him walking through the doors of the 'Hall of Justice," the place where the rest of his life would be decided.
       Staring up at the five seated individuals left him almost speechless. Something in him said that there was no lying; no way out. All of his movements were being scrutinised from on high, and nothing could be kept a secret.
       Before he knew what was going on he was being moved once more out of the room, but this time Aldric didn't leave the way he entered, instead, he was walked out the door to the right of the room, and once those doors opened everything changed.

       Screaming, shouting, and roaring filled his ears. Guards hollered, as did prisoners. Cages upon cages held the two sorts apart and as his head spun with this madness he found himself before an open gate, and he was chucked forward to land on his face.

Hauled Off

       Aldric Dalton was lost in this new world. He felt himself once more and wasted no time ingratiating himself in the local culture. His first observation was that this place held a culture of its own. The people here were all prisoners, of all races and cultures. Human, Trisken, Doshan, Gnosian. There were many people from many worlds, all lumped together to form a super-group; the lost souls of Jex; the forgotten; the wronged.
       He felt that he himself wasn't given a fair trial, and that was a sentiment shared by all who found themselves here. Of course, Aldric was guilty of torching a tower, but that didn't mean he deserved to be here.
       "They drugged us up to the point of not knowing what I was saying, and they call that justice. Are they insane?" A Mulu he became close with said in astonishment.
       "They did the same to me," Aldric said quietly as he tried to think back to the day. "All I remember was a blank-faced administrator jabbing me, and then I woke up on the floor of a holding cell. Worst hangover I ever had." He started to chuckle, but rather than being amused by the events, he laughed because it was better than crying about it.

       Every person among the prisoners realised soon that the guards of this facility were against them, which helped everyone join a non-official alliance, in an attempt to protect themselves against the ones in charge.
       The prison itself was huge and housed thousands of people. But, free time was given out to each person sparingly. Some of them were nocturnal, which made it easy to divide up the free time among all of them, because of this, the ones in charge opted to use androids and severe camera monitoring; this led to his every waking moment being uncomfortable.