The Samsara Project by David Burgess (ebook reader screen .txt) 📖

open the door of his transit cubicle. “Let’s go Reynolds,” commanded a voice. John stood up and walked, as dignified as he could out of the wagon and into Beta wing’s reception. A white shirted officer was waiting for them as the two walked into the reception.
This was the first time that John had had the opportunity to meet the man behind the voice in the next cubicle. Rigger was a career criminal; to him prison was an occupational hazard. It was as well he thought that way because Rigger was not a clever or successful criminal and he had, at one time or another, been a tenant in nearly every prison within a fifty mile radius of London. Rigger had made it through by living on his wit’s, he was fast on his feet, not physically but mentally and over the years he had managed to talk himself out of a number of very tricky situations. Rigger though had a weakness, alcohol, and it was this addiction that had gotten him into most of the real trouble he had been in. To date he had been arrested over one hundred and fifty seven times for alcohol related offences. Arrest one hundred and fifty eight was the reason he was standing next to John. Under normal circumstances this five foot six inch tall man weighing no more than nine stone six pounds was a quiet opportunist. Once he had tasted alcohol though the normally quiet and mild mannered Rigger became a foul mouthed, abusive and very violent individual. On this occasion he had attempted to assault a police officer who was trying to stop him from falling asleep in a residential road. Rigger could not see any problem with this and was more than happy to tell the police officer exactly what he could do. He also questioned, very loudly, the marriage status of his parents at the time he was born. Rigger had no recollection of what, if anything, he had done so as usual he pleaded guilty to whatever charges were read out to him.
S.O. Peterson walked into the reception area, at six foot four inches and weighing eighteen and a half stone the ex Guards Sergeant Major was a commanding figure, “Back again the Rigger,” boomed his voice, “I wondered how long it would be before we saw you again. How long is it this time then?”
“Just a short five months this time boss. I’ll do that with my eyes shut.”
“You’ve certainly had the practice Rigger; I’ll say that for you. Come on then, you know the drill as well as I do by now, let’s get on with it.”
Rigger walked into one of the changing cubicles that led to the shower area. John had not moved since he came in. John was still looking around, taking everything in.
“You, Reynolds,” boomed the voice again, “over here, sharpish.”
John started to walk towards the reception desk.
“Come on man, quicker than that. I haven’t got all day.”
John quickened his pace.
“That’s more like it.” S.O. Peterson picked up John’s file, he quickly scanned through it. “Just answer yes or no to my questions.”
“Yes sir,”
“It’s yes boss, not sir. You’ll not be told that twice, is that clear.”
“Yes boss,” replied John sheepishly, feeling as though he was five years old again and had just been reprimanded by the teacher.
“Reynolds John Arthur remanded for seven days by Old Lane Magistrates on a charge of attempted murder. Is that correct?
“The charge is correct but I am not guilty of anything.”
“Oh please save me,” said S.O. Peterson, “we have yet another innocent man wrongly accused. Let me tell you something, right now you are in the safest place in the world. You know why?”
“No,” replied John,
“Then I’ll tell you why. It’s because this prison is full of innocent people and all the nasty horrible bad people are still outside doing their nasty horrible stuff to innocent people just like you. So, as long as you are in here and they are out there then you’ve got nothing to worry about have you?”
John looked at him in sheer disbelief.
“I said you’ve got nothing to worry about have you?”
“Er ... No, I suppose not” replied John.
“You’re reply should be, I suppose not boss. Now try again.”
“I suppose not boss.” answered John.
“You, my boy are going to have to wise up a lot quicker than you are doing right now. There are people in here who eat the likes of you for dinner. To them you’re as green as a cabbage and you know that cabbage is, it’s one of your five a day veggies, if you know what I mean.”
John didn’t say anything but he had a good idea what the officer was saying to him.
“It’s OK boss, I said I’d take care of him, you know show him the ropes an’ all that.” Rigger was standing at the side of them having just stepped out of the shower. “It’s not his fault he doesn’t know how things work, any chance of padding us up together, at least until he finds his feet?”
“You sure about this?” asked the S.O.
“Better than finding him swinging from the window bars in the morning boss, especially on your watch.”
S.O. Peterson thought for a moment, “I’ll sort it.” He turned to John, “must be your lucky day. Now clothes off and into the shower and get cleaned up. After you’re showered, and you have four minutes for that put on the gown provided and see the medic, then straight back here.”
“Yes boss,” replied John.
John had one of the quickest showers of his life but he enjoyed every minute of it. The water was warm and the soap was cleaning away the dirt and grime that he felt the past forty eight hours had ground into his skin. He even managed to wash his hair. John had never thought of a shower as a luxury but he was beginning to appreciate that for some time in the future that could well be the case. The towel was old and rough but did the job of drying him. As soon as he was dry John slipped on the green surgical style gown hanging on a coat hook. He saw the sign pointing towards the medics’ office and followed it. A male nurse was sat at a desk outside the doctor’s office.
“Name?” the nurse asked
“John, I mean Reynolds”
“Go in, the doctors waiting.”
John knocked on the office door then opened it and walked into the surgery. He stood in front of the doctors desk, sat in a chair to the right hand side was a white shirted officer.
“Give the doctor your name,”
“Reynolds boss, John Reynolds”
The doctor looked over at John, “I’m going to ask you a few questions, only answer if your answer is yes. Do you understand?”
“Yes doctor,” replied John.
“Are you on any prescribed medication? Are you addicted to any controlled substance? Are you an alcoholic? Are you HIV positive? Is there any illness or condition you are aware of that I should know about? Do you have any thoughts about harming yourself in any way, are you depressed or suicidal?”
John remained silent. The doctor then quickly examined John, took his blood pressure and a blood sample. After that John was escorted back to induction reception where S.O Peterson was waiting for him.
John was handed his prison clothes, a red top with matching bottoms, black socks and a pair of trainers. “The sizes match the clothes that have put in storage for you so they should fit. Get yourself dressed.”
John did so.
“Stand over there and don’t smile,” said the S.O. John stood where he was asked. “Look straight ahead, head up.” There was a flash from the camera, “Turn to your left,” another flash, “Now to the right,” A final flash.
A few minutes later the SO handed John his prison ID card, “Sign here. From now on you will be known as CT67645 Reynolds. You’ve been allocated Beta wing cell six five four. Go with that officer over there and he’ll escort you to your new home.”
In less than five minutes John was walking into cell six five five, he was relieved to see Rigger was already in the cell and lying on the top bunk. The officer shut the cell door. John shivered. He stood in the cell, not moving. What had happened to him the previous night had not really prepared him for this moment. Before he was in a police cell then a holding cell but this was different. This was prison, the real thing. Rigger just watched him, not saying anything. He had seen this before and he knew he had to let John adjust to the situation in his own time. Everyone at some point had to adjust; those who didn’t usually took an overdose, slashed their wrists or hanged themselves from anything high enough and strong enough.
John sat down on the bed, “You know Rigger before I felt that there might be a way out for me. That the court would grant me bail or the prosecution would drop the charges. I know people say they are innocent but I am, I haven’t done anything and I’ve no idea why or how I’ve ended up here. What happens if I’m stuck here? What happens if no one believes me?”
“It’s hard John, but whatever happens you must never stop believing in yourself. If you ever stop that then how can you expect others to? You have people out there who are fighting for you, who want you back. They know you’re innocent. People don’t fight for the guilty, not really, they just pretend to, make the gesture. In the end the truth will come out for you. Maybe not next week or next month but it will happen. Have faith, not in the system, that sucks, but in you and your friends. Have faith in what you believe and know to be true and that will get you through anything. Except perhaps my snoring, did I mention I snore?”
“No you forget that bit,” replied John, “by the way, have you ever thought of being a counsellor. You’re a natural.”
For the rest of the first night Rigger listened as John talked about his past, his childhood memories, growing up through his teens. He listened as John talked about Pamela, then about his career and some of the stories and people he’d written about. Rigger kept him talking, it passed the time and kept John’s mind off where he was and why. It helped him to relax a little and more importantly it helped him to think and put a clear perspective on things. It worked as well and surprisingly, for John, he slept well. He was grateful to be sharing a cell with Rigger, someone this time yesterday he hadn’t even met.
John thought about his life, he had everything, Rigger had nothing yet when the time came it was John who needed Riggers support, not the other way round. It made John wonder which of the two was really better off, or maybe he thought, we both live in different worlds. Rigger was able both able to survive in both. But when John had crossed over from one world to the other, by his own choice or otherwise, he was helpless, completely unable to function or survive. The two worlds exist in parallel, John’s world and the ‘underworld’, occupants of both passing by each other every day with neither acknowledging the other until fate, usually as a result of some tragedy, forces the two worlds together then all prejudices have to be put aside and both must work together