Grand Theft Astro by Scott Meyer

Author:Scott Meyer [Meyer, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rocket Hat Industries
Published: 2022-01-28T23:00:00+00:00

22

Baird and Pry Bar stood at the rear of a small crowd gathered on the dome level, looking up at the Ibu.

“It’s not all that attractive as priceless works of art go, is it?” Baird asked.

Pry Bar said, “It’s not my cup of tea.”

“Which is a polite way of saying that you agree with me.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Baird smiled at Pry Bar. “In the future, feel free to agree with me as rudely as you like. I promise, you thinking I’m right won’t hurt my feelings.”

Beyond Pry Bar, Baird saw another 3D ad featuring the ornery squint of the newly elected Sheriff starting.

He tipped his hat. “I’m Sheriff Worthington Calhoun. The law states that I am obliged to supply the criminals in my custody with a bed on which to sleep, all comfy and cozy. Unfortunately, beds take up room, mattresses are expensive, and hammocks can be used to strangle the other inmates.”

The scene changed to an image of a large rectangular room with a bright blue floor.

“That’s why we’ve developed these group slumber cells. Instead of providing every inmate with their own bed, it’s much simpler and cheaper to just pad the entire floor.”

A door opened. An inmate took a single step into the room, but the floor stretched and gave way beneath him, causing him to tumble forward and roll toward the middle of the room.

Sheriff Calhoun continued, “And it turns out that the cheapest, most durable way to pad a floor that size is to make it a trampoline.”

At first a single prisoner rolled to the center of the room. More entered behind him, followed by still more, until there were over two dozen of them. The first few jumped on the springy surface, but as the trampoline took on more and more weight it lost its bounciness and simply stretched downward, into a sort of cone. The inmates slid and rolled to the middle of the room, further deforming the floor, making the sides steeper and the act of pulling themselves away from the writhing knot of angry criminals that much harder.

The camera pulled back to show Sheriff Calhoun standing above the room on a catwalk, looking down at the chaotic jumble of panicked of prisoners. “All right,” he shouted, “you all sleep real good, you hear?”

One of the prisoners screamed, “No, please, Sheriff! No one can sleep like this!”

Calhoun laughed. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a little togetherness! Lots of people only get through their jail experience by leaning on their fellow inmates. Besides, Haddad, if you don’t like sleeping in a communal environment, you should have thought about that before unlawfully protesting the so-called inhumane overcrowding on the station’s lower levels.”

Calhoun’s squint filled the screen. “I’m Sheriff Worthington Calhoun. I obey the strict letter of the law, and you should too.”

Baird turned back to the statue.

Pry Bar asked, “How’s your headache?”

“Who said I have a headache?”

“You keep rubbing your temples. And I’ve seen you take pain relievers more than once.”

“Fine,” Baird snapped. “I get it.

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