Ch.8Insane, I Tell You! (2)

“Why is Blueberg hitting Tuckjugari? Don’t tell me his mental illness is acting up again?”

“Isn’t Lawson the one who shares a cell with Blueberg? I heard Lawson had been complaining for a while that he didn’t like those drawings. So Blueberg immediately threw a punch, claiming Lawson must have removed them.”

David handed Dan a tissue from the desk.

“Ah, you got some on your clothes. So, where is he now?”

“Blueberg? Where else would he be? Solitary confinement.”

“For how long?”

“Five days.”

“That includes the weekend, I guess.”

“Of course.”

“Too bad he’ll miss the weekend special meal.”

Dan said with a sympathetic tone.

“Weekend special meal?”

“They serve special meat dumplings on weekends. Many inmates look forward to the weekend just for those.”

Dexter thought it was silly to wait all week just for dumplings, but after remembering yesterday’s lunch, he figured it made sense.

“Anyway, this is why mentally ill inmates are so dangerous.”

“Hughes, you be careful too. Those guys will sharpen plastic spoons and stab you with them.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen to me.”

Dexter said, thinking about what happened yesterday morning.

“Though I think what happened yesterday might have been excessive.”

“You mean the restraint?”

When David asked, Dexter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I was a bit rough.”

“Better to restrain them than get yourself hurt, that’s for sure.”

“You think so?”

Dan, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, checked the time and clapped his hands.

“Alright, let’s get ready for roll call.”

-Five minutes until roll call, five minutes until roll call.

The prison day begins with David’s roll call announcement.

While the three of them were conducting roll call, they arrived at that shared cell.

“Lawson?”

Dan called out to Lawson, an inmate and Jesse’s roommate.

Lawson, who had been pressed against the right wall, turned his head to respond, revealing a bruised and purplish jaw.

“Yes.”

“Are you… okay?”

Dan asked in surprise, as he had only heard about Lawson being hit in the jaw but was seeing it for the first time.

“What? Oh, I’m fine. But that crazy woman—can’t you just send her to a psychiatric facility?”

“That’s not up to us.”

Dan said as he looked around the room.

The wall that had previously been covered with drawings now had only a few car pictures remaining.

Dan had filed away the rest of the drawings to return them later.

“By the way, I had to take down the ones on the wall because the senior guard ordered it. Sorry you got hit because of that.”

“Ah, yes. I kind of expected it. Who else would dare remove that woman’s drawings?”

It was still an inmate-guard relationship after all.

Lawson had many complaints but was trying to choose his words carefully.

“Sorry about that. If there’s anything you need, just let us know.”

“Yes.”

Lawson still showed signs of discomfort after talking with Dan, but he didn’t express anything further.

Dan and David were aware of this and tried to move on without provoking him.

“Alright, next. Let’s go.”

Lawson was quite a large inmate.

It would probably take about three Jesses to match Lawson’s weight.

‘And she still managed to knock him down.’

Jesse must be tougher than she looks.

‘A woman with some grit like Jesse is attractive…’

“Ugh, shit.”

‘What the hell am I thinking?’

While Dexter was shaking his head, Dan looked at him strangely.

“What’s wrong, Dexter? Why the reaction?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if I left the lights on at home.”

“How lame. So what if the lights are on?”

Even as Dan and David were busy checking the inmate count, Dexter found it difficult to focus on the situation.

His mind was a mess.

But since roll call only involved repeatedly confirming headcounts and moving between cells, he could hide his distraction.

After successfully completing roll call, it was time for the inmates to clean their assigned areas.

While Dan and David sat down for shift change, Dexter spoke up.

“I’ll go supervise.”

“Sure. Just don’t get into fights with inmates.”

“The one who would fight is in solitary, isn’t she?”

“True enough. Oh, try this before you leave. My wife packed it—it’s amazing.”

“I’ll die of arterial sclerosis eating that.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

Dexter smiled at their banter and headed toward the cells.

March in Nevada can drop to 45°F at night but rise to 73°F during the day.

Due to these large temperature fluctuations, inmates wore various clothing combinations.

When the weather was chilly, inmates would wear long-sleeved prison uniforms or layer white long-sleeved shirts under their short-sleeved uniforms.

Guards were in a similar situation but avoided wearing long-sleeved t-shirts under their uniforms to maintain a professional appearance.

Today was particularly chilly for March, so almost all inmates and guards were wearing long sleeves.

“…Officer, aren’t you cold?”

“Not really.”

An inmate who was sensitive to cold asked while rubbing his hands together as he cleaned, noticing Dexter.

It was a fair question, as Dexter was wearing short sleeves.

“It’s pretty cold today…”

“I told you, I’m not cold.”

Dexter genuinely felt fine.

“I guess I have my healthy parents to thank for that.”

That wasn’t true.

In reality, it was the effect of nanobots flowing through Dexter’s blood vessels.

“If you eat well and stay active, you don’t have to worry about getting sick.”

The nanobots, the pinnacle of transcendental engineering, enhanced his metabolism, accelerated physical recovery, regulated hormones, and acted as killer cells to eliminate invading bacteria and viruses. Since receiving the nanobots, he hadn’t been sick once.

As a result, Dexter wasn’t affected by heat or cold, never caught minor illnesses, and barely broke a sweat even after intense exercise.

“Inmates should maintain a healthy lifestyle too.”

Ironically, Dexter himself had fallen asleep drinking beer after work, skipping his planned workout.

“Uh… yes.”

As the inmate walked away with a puzzled expression, Dexter flexed his arm muscles.

His biceps and triceps were neither too large nor too small—just right.

Not bad for his own muscles.

“If people just followed my advice, they wouldn’t get sick at all. They just don’t believe me.”

But that wasn’t true.

* * *

“Do you have time?”

Judy, a rookie guard, approached Dexter as he was happily chewing on a large piece of steak.

“Huh?”

“Swallow before you speak.”

Seeing Judy’s disapproving look, Dexter quickly swallowed and responded.

“What? Asking me on a date?”

“No! What are you saying?!”

“If it’s not that, why are you getting angry? So what is it?”

Judy, looking offended, said to Dexter:

“Wait for me at the cafeteria entrance after lunch.”

“But what’s this about?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Dexter was confused, while Dan beside him had an amused expression.

“What’s going on? Secret romance?”

“Come on. We look more like uncle and niece when we’re together.”

Dexter looked his age, but Judy was the shortest guard and appeared younger than she was.

“Hurry up and go. Don’t keep her waiting.”

“But I’ve only had two plates so far.”

At Dan’s urging, Dexter quickly finished his plate and headed toward the cafeteria entrance with a sulky expression.

Spotting Judy pacing near the entrance, Dexter approached her.

“What’s so important that you needed to meet privately?”

“I hear you’re quite famous.”

Dexter wondered what she was getting at.

“Am I? With whom?”

“With all my training academy classmates.”

“All of them?”

Dexter felt both embarrassed and awkward, as he had only been doing what came naturally to him.

“One of my classmates said you were born to be a corrections officer.”

“Me? I was never good at academics. My house was about 10 miles from the nearest library—the complete opposite of Goswell.”

While Dexter typically ranked first in all physical training, Judy consistently topped the weekly written exams.

“I always wanted to be a police officer.”

“I just wanted to live an easy life.”

Judy spoke confidently, while Dexter sighed deeply.

“So. I get why you or Goswell might be well-known, but what’s this about?”

“Physical fitness.”

“Fitness? What about it?”

“You know I barely passed the physical training requirements, right?”

‘Was that the case? I don’t really remember that detail.’

“I kind of figured, but why? Is someone saying Goswell is too weak to properly restrain inmates or something?”

Dexter had thrown out the comment as a joke, but Judy remained silent.

As her expression grew increasingly serious, as if to say “even you think that?”, Dexter was surprised.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes…”

“Who said that?”

“My supervisor…”

‘Officer Jones, was it?’

Judy wasn’t crying, but her expression conveyed her emotions clearly.

Dexter decided to ask Dan later about what kind of person this supervisor was.

“Want me to crush your supervisor? Grind every bone in their body…”

“No! What a horrible thing to say!”

Judy shouted involuntarily, her face turning red.

“Geez, you scared me. Then what is it?”

“…want to…”

Her voice was too low to hear.

“What? Speak up a bit.”

“I want to build my strength…”

It was still quiet but at least audible.

“Why are you so embarrassed about that? What is it? You want to build stamina for nighttime activities?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant!”

Judy yelled and kicked Dexter in the shin.

The problem was that the toe of Judy’s shoes was as hard as military combat boots.

“Ow! If that’s not it, just say so!”

Dexter clutched his shin, groaning in pain.

“Oh my god, I’m dying here!”

“You’re not going to die from a kick to the shin!”

Dexter genuinely groaned until the nanobots circulating in his bloodstream alleviated the pain.

“Forget about building your strength then!”

“No! You have to help me!”

“Is that how you ask for a favor?”

“Please help me!”

Still holding his shin, Dexter grumbled:

“That really hurt. What, do you want me to inject you with something to make you all bulky? Ronnie Coleman style? No one would mess with you then.”

Dexter actually knew of substances that could be used that way.

“That’s not what I want either.”

“Then you want to be like Xena?”

“Who’s Xena?”

“The pretty Amazon lady who swings swords and goes like this and this… You really don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.”

‘How can she not know this masterpiece?’

Dexter wanted to roll on the floor at the fact that Judy had never heard of what he considered a classic TV show.

The warrior woman Xena that Dexter mentioned was from an American TV show that aired in 1995.

Judy, born in the early 90s in England, would have no reason to know a 90s TV show.

“Then do you know Sarah Connor?”

“The female protagonist from Terminator?”

Finally getting a positive response, Dexter snapped his fingers.

“So you do know that one. That’s the kind of vibe you want—looking awesome with great strength and fitness, right?”

“Yes!”

Judy nodded vigorously.

In her mind, she was imagining herself with round sunglasses, wearing a tank top, her body filled with functional muscles.

While Judy was lost in her imagination, Dexter, despite his confident exterior, was panicking internally.

‘But I’m not a trainer.’

Dexter’s workout routine consisted of running 6 miles, doing 100 squats, 100 push-ups, and 100 sit-ups.

That was it.

He knew nothing else.

‘Pulling a broken spaceship with your mouth? No, that’s what people on Planet Cyclops do. Carrying a 200-pound rock while flying for a mile? No, that’s not a human exercise either.’

As Dexter struggled with his thoughts, Judy was moved by what she perceived as his deep consideration.

“Are you already thinking about what exercises to give me?”

“Huh?”

“That’s reassuring. I’ll trust you.”

Judy took out a notepad and pen from her pocket, wrote down her phone number, tore off the page, and handed it to him.

“Here.”

“What’s this?”

“What else? It’s my number. Call me after work.”

As Judy smiled gently and left, Dexter felt bewildered.

“This feels like getting someone’s phone number after being hit by a car.”

He felt like he had been swept along without a chance to catch his breath.