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Description
Four thousand, nine hundred and thirty-seven.
That’s my third recount. I’d bet my life that the ceiling tiles have exactly four thousand nine hundred and thirty seven holes. I think they’re for ventilation or something, starting to think that high school is a waste of time. Seriously, I don’t need to learn who did what a thousand years ago. I don’t need to know how to graph a parabola or how many tectonic plates the surface of the earth has. A ruler is slammed onto my desk, scattering my thoughts.
“Mark,” the teacher says. “Stop daydreaming and do your work. I’m collecting it by the end of class.”
I slowly sit up as I stretch and crack my back. Dang, I’ve been slouching for so long, feels like my spine hardened into clay. I finish by scratching the back of my head. The whole time, Mr. Renart eyes me for a response.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I say. “I was counting the holes in the ceiling.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” His voice patronizing.
The other students giggle, like the pre-recording of audience laughter from an old TV show.
“No really, there are exactly four thousand nine hundred and thirty seven holes on the ceiling.
Mr. Renart looks up at the ceiling, his eyebrows rise in disbelief. My classmates follow suit in a moment of silence. I awkwardly hold out my paper. “And I finished the class work.”
“Both sides Mr. Moore?” He asks.
I can’t remember if I did. My hand slowly turns the paper over.
“Guess I did,” to my surprise.
Taking my paper, Mr. Renart scans it, and then smiles. “I don’t know why I even check anymore. Have you done the reading log?”
“Yeah.”
“…smooth.” My teacher uses the yardstick like a cane as he walks to his desk. “That’s why I keep you at the back of the class.”
A girl from the front says something out loud. I think she’s one of the populars. “Shouldn’t nerds sit at the front?”
“Don’t call it names Christie.” Mr. Renart glances at me with a smile before continuing the lesson.
“Mr. R?” I look at the skater sitting across the room. For some reason, I know what he’s going to ask. Why wouldn’t he? Boys my age love senseless violence and gore. I’ve even heard the majority of girls talk about the show. “Are you gonna watch the opening of Deadlocked?” he asks.
The nails on my right hand silently scratch the plastic surface of my desk. I hate Deadlocked. That stupid company is the reason my dad left. Mom said he was promoted and that I was never going to see him again. I hardly did anyways, but I cherished the time that I spent with him. It was enough for me to cry. I was the only one who begged him to stay, even clinged onto his leg. My dad dragged me to the front door before he kicked me in the face. No words, no eye contact, just a fatherly kick.
My eyes begin to get watery. After putting my head down, I listen to whatever I haven’t ignored from what they’re saying. Have to forget about it now. It’s already been a year. I’m in high school now; grow up.
“—and I bought the gold membership too.” Mr. Renart says.
I can’t believe it; even my English teacher is excited about the broadcast. I wipe my eyes. Hopefully nobody noticed. “What’s the gold membership?”
“Oh, it means that I’ve made an investment and I get special benefits like camera access, voting polls, and maybe even control of some of the robots. I can make some serious money off of it.”
“That’s stupid. Why doesn’t Deadlocked just give money away?” I ask
“No,” He looks at his phone. “Stupid is our government doing absolutely nothing about this economic crisis. Deadlocked is the only solution the United States has.”
The bell rings, jolting everyone to life.
“Alright get out,” Mr. Renart says, “I’ve bored you all enough.”
Crap! I forgot to pack early. My hands move as if my life depended on it. I’m throwing everything into my backpack. Aw man, looks like an office threw up in it. Backpack half open, I rush to the door. I start running as soon as my foot steps outside. A wall of desert heat hits me, but I don’t stop. Hordes of kids pour into the halls but I squirm my way through, saying sorry every time I bump into someone. For once, I’m glad I’m skinny.
The metal detector line!
I can see it. I might actually be able to avoid him, but I’m wearing out fast. I can feel a stabbing pain in my chest. The hot air burns and scratches at my throat. I take a deep breath and push my feet harder. I’m gonna make it!
Then, all of my hope, all of my relief is suddenly torn out of me.
My body is jerked backwards, as if gravity moved sideways. I close my eyes as I fall into the dim light of defeat. I hear the echo of a door slam shut and I’m suddenly forced up on my feet. A slam into the wall forces the air out of me. Bursts of light blind my vision, but I recognize his voice.
“Where ya going Markie?”
“Nowhere,” I answer him. “I just really had to go.”
Seth’s been picking on me ever since school started this year. He treats everyone like crap but I’m the only one who gets any special treatment. He’s usually around with two other guys. But for some reason, they’re not here.
Seth laughs, “Well that’s why you’re in the bathroom.”
“I meant that I had to go home.”
“I know what you meant dip-shit!” I flinch as he raises his fist in the air. I’m waiting for the pain to hit me. Instinctively I yelp, but the punch isn’t thrown yet.
Seth gets to the point, “So where’s the homework?”
I look away in grim silence, I’m trying so hard not to cry but I can feel his anger building up. He puts more pressure on the arm that’s pinning me to the wall. It’s starting to hurt. I wince again from the pain.
Seth slowly says through his teeth, “Did you do it?”
I can’t avoid what’s about to happen, but I can stall for a few seconds. I’ll have to remember what it’s like not to feel the aches and bruises.
“Tell me!” Seth screams at me.
The words run through me in sheer panic, “There was another blackout and I couldn’t do your homework! I’m sorry!”
“What about math?” He forms a fist.
“…No.”
“Science?” Pulls back.
My voice is shrinking, “No.”
“English?” Aims.
“I did that, all you had was the reading log.”
Seth stops in a moment of surprise. He scratches the back of his buzz-cut head. This must be how he thinks, if he thinks at all. He looks at me, a bit unsure of what to do. “Fine, I won’t beat you up that hard. Just cause English is the one I need most.”
He raises his fist again.
“No Seth, please. I can do the rest of it right now.”
“Don’t move and I’ll make it quick.”

I shut the door behind me. Yelling hurts my left cheek; I think the swelling’s down. “Mom, I’m home!”
“You’re late…” She says.
Walking into the kitchen I can see my mom cooking a sub sandwich. Her hair is in a ponytail and a bandana crowns the top of her head. She must have been cleaning after she came home.
“And you’re home early.”
“I got the rest of the day off. What about you?”
“I…” Got to think of something quick, “I fell down the stairs at school. The nurse had to help this other kid then me.”
She wasn’t looking at me, “Let me guess, then you missed the bus so you had to wait for the next one or walk home.”
“…Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
Out eyes meet but I’m soon staring at my ragged shoelaces. I can feel her looking at me with those honey brown eyes, my eyes. They’re beautiful, but they can also be intimidating. I want to blurt out the truth, but I can’t. It’ll only make things worse.
“You’ve got some really bad luck then.” My mom puts down the food and walks over to me. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mark.” She tries to lift my head but I push her hand away.
“I said I’m fine!”
Another silent moment. My words linger in the air under the sound of the fridge humming. I can hear myself say those last words. I sound angry, sad, and tired.
“Sorry mom.”
“Long day huh?”
“I guess you can say that.”
I go to the other side of the kitchen and make myself a glass of iced tea. I’m holding my breath while I fan the tea mix from the air. Screw the ice; I need to relax. I chug half of the tea, take a deep breath, and then continue drinking, but at a normal pace. I’m some kind of tea-aholic.
My mom says in an Australian accent as I turn around, “Was your day as long as this beauty?”
She’s holding a humongous sub sandwich. Her hands are poised as if she was holding a crocodile, but the only thing animal-like about the sub is the size. Two olives are toothpicked to the front end, giving it green and red eyeballs. The “mouth” is drooping in a comical way with a thick slice of ham hanging like a tongue.
I knew what it was, but I didn’t expect her to do something like that. My only reaction is to laugh, but iced tea pours out of my nostrils. I’m coughing over the sink as if I had almost drowned. There’s sugar stuck in my throat. I manage a smile. “Don’t do that while I’m drinking!”
She laughs, “You should have seen your face!”
“That things huge.”
“It’s a freakin’ baguette.”
“Must have cost a lot…”
“Oh, don’t worry, one of my friends at work gave it to me.”
“Okay, want to cut me a piece?”
Mom looked at me in disbelief, “The hell are you taking about?”
“What? You can’t eat that all by yourself!”
“You don’t know that.”
“But it’s half your height!”
“I’m just kidding.” She pinches my cheek, hard, and walks away with a piece of the sub. “Jeez, you’re a bit serious today.”
The pinch flares the bruise up. I tightly grip the end of the counter as the pain subsides, “Or you’re just in a really good mood.” I watch my mother take her plate into the living room. There’s a bit of grace in her walk, almost like one of those happy period commercials. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.
“It’s cause the Deadlocked world premiere is in half an hour.”
“Mom? Are you serious?”
“You’re the serious one.”
“Have you seen the commercials for that? It’s all real, senseless violence.”
“I thought you kids were into that kind of stuff.”
“Everyone but me.”
“Besides, I’m only watching it because—” Hesitation, I could hear it in her voice. This is the first time she cuts herself off.
I occupy myself by walking into the hall. I pretend as if I didn’t hear her. “What?”
“Nothing… Aren’t you going to watch it?”
“No, I’m gonna eat and do my homework. Maybe watch some T.V after you’re finished.”
“Mark wait.” She turns around on the sofa. “Watch it with me.”
Her head is resting on her arms on the edge of the couch. The T.V is shining bright behind her. There’s something childish about her.
“Really?” I say.
“Please. I’m actually kind of scared.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t want to see something like that alone.”
“Fine, just cause I missed your food.”
My mom takes out a bowl of popcorn from who knows where. I guess she had it ready. This is turning out to be a pretty good day. If only my body didn’t hurt as much. If only I didn’t have to deal with Seth. I’d have more friends, better grades; my life would be perfect.
I think my mom noticed I was spacing off because she started shaking my shoulder. “Mark, it’s starting!”
The United States Federal Seal is displayed on the television. I stare at the eagle on the seal: powerful, majestic, free. Then the screen begins to flicker. I thought we were losing signal or something, but then I realize that it’s a transitional effect. The eagle blurs and fades, almost as if it’s flying into a sandstorm. A video is shown, the date, time, and location at the top left corner. There’s a man in a military suit standing at a podium. A logo of a skull behind bars is draped from a triangular flag behind him.
The man runs a hand through his buzzed cut hair. A pair of dog tags proudly hangs from his thick neck. If Seth had joined the army and survived four world wars, he would look like this guy. Judging from his rainbow of badges, he must be a very important military figure. The camera slowly zooms in on him.
“My name is Kent Ravenger, President of the Prisons Bureau and the head of military affairs. I address this speech not only to the United States Association of Federal Bureaus, but to the entire world. We live in an era of great economic depression where criminal activity has begun to flourish. Americans can no longer feel safe going to work or even walking on the sidewalk of our nation’s streets. Cop mortalities are on the rise at an alarming rate, lowering the effectiveness of police departments. How can a government protect its people, if they can’t even protect themselves?
That is why I have been given the authority to carry out a solution.
As of now, every police department in the United States will be under the control of a hired, state lieutenant. Each of which will command an elite army to patrol and fight against this criminal threat. Any criminal incarcerated will be punished beyond the extent of the law. Those with two-year sentences and above will be sent to a special prison.”
Ravenger’s ambitious grin made the members of the Federal Bureaus adjust themselves in their seats. I could see the look in some of their faces, the realization that they have been supporting a power-hungry tyrant. Some could have been blackmailed. But it’s too late.
“Deadlocked is the solution, to overcrowded prisons, to record-crime rates, to our economic depression, and to regain our freedom.” He continued, “Deadlocked, is a free-roam prison stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Its geographical map is made up of five different terrains, in which prisoners will be placed according to the magnitude of their crime. The more dangerous the terrain, the more the prisoner will be broadcasted, which means a higher chance that a safe release will be rewarded. It is for this reason that the ruins of a city will serve as a starting point. And the audience has the power to judge and punish!
Our first prisoner has been charged with espionage and theft not only from Deadlocked, but from the United States government. He has stolen a total of fourty-nine million, three hundred and seventy thousand dollars, and killed over 50 Deadlocked workers.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Deadlock’s first prisoner, Richter Moore!”

Description
Four thousand, nine hundred and thirty-seven.
That’s my third recount. I’d bet my life that the ceiling tiles have exactly four thousand nine hundred and thirty seven holes. I think they’re for ventilation or something, starting to think that high school is a waste of time. Seriously, I don’t need to learn who did what a thousand years ago. I don’t need to know how to graph a parabola or how many tectonic plates the surface of the earth has. A ruler is slammed onto my desk, scattering my thoughts.
“Mark,” the teacher says. “Stop daydreaming and do your work. I’m collecting it by the end of class.”
I slowly sit up as I stretch and crack my back. Dang, I’ve been slouching for so long, feels like my spine hardened into clay. I finish by scratching the back of my head. The whole time, Mr. Renart eyes me for a response.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I say. “I was counting the holes in the ceiling.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” His voice patronizing.
The other students giggle, like the pre-recording of audience laughter from an old TV show.
“No really, there are exactly four thousand nine hundred and thirty seven holes on the ceiling.
Mr. Renart looks up at the ceiling, his eyebrows rise in disbelief. My classmates follow suit in a moment of silence. I awkwardly hold out my paper. “And I finished the class work.”
“Both sides Mr. Moore?” He asks.
I can’t remember if I did. My hand slowly turns the paper over.
“Guess I did,” to my surprise.
Taking my paper, Mr. Renart scans it, and then smiles. “I don’t know why I even check anymore. Have you done the reading log?”
“Yeah.”
“…smooth.” My teacher uses the yardstick like a cane as he walks to his desk. “That’s why I keep you at the back of the class.”
A girl from the front says something out loud. I think she’s one of the populars. “Shouldn’t nerds sit at the front?”
“Don’t call it names Christie.” Mr. Renart glances at me with a smile before continuing the lesson.
“Mr. R?” I look at the skater sitting across the room. For some reason, I know what he’s going to ask. Why wouldn’t he? Boys my age love senseless violence and gore. I’ve even heard the majority of girls talk about the show. “Are you gonna watch the opening of Deadlocked?” he asks.
The nails on my right hand silently scratch the plastic surface of my desk. I hate Deadlocked. That stupid company is the reason my dad left. Mom said he was promoted and that I was never going to see him again. I hardly did anyways, but I cherished the time that I spent with him. It was enough for me to cry. I was the only one who begged him to stay, even clinged onto his leg. My dad dragged me to the front door before he kicked me in the face. No words, no eye contact, just a fatherly kick.
My eyes begin to get watery. After putting my head down, I listen to whatever I haven’t ignored from what they’re saying. Have to forget about it now. It’s already been a year. I’m in high school now; grow up.
“—and I bought the gold membership too.” Mr. Renart says.
I can’t believe it; even my English teacher is excited about the broadcast. I wipe my eyes. Hopefully nobody noticed. “What’s the gold membership?”
“Oh, it means that I’ve made an investment and I get special benefits like camera access, voting polls, and maybe even control of some of the robots. I can make some serious money off of it.”
“That’s stupid. Why doesn’t Deadlocked just give money away?” I ask
“No,” He looks at his phone. “Stupid is our government doing absolutely nothing about this economic crisis. Deadlocked is the only solution the United States has.”
The bell rings, jolting everyone to life.
“Alright get out,” Mr. Renart says, “I’ve bored you all enough.”
Crap! I forgot to pack early. My hands move as if my life depended on it. I’m throwing everything into my backpack. Aw man, looks like an office threw up in it. Backpack half open, I rush to the door. I start running as soon as my foot steps outside. A wall of desert heat hits me, but I don’t stop. Hordes of kids pour into the halls but I squirm my way through, saying sorry every time I bump into someone. For once, I’m glad I’m skinny.
The metal detector line!
I can see it. I might actually be able to avoid him, but I’m wearing out fast. I can feel a stabbing pain in my chest. The hot air burns and scratches at my throat. I take a deep breath and push my feet harder. I’m gonna make it!
Then, all of my hope, all of my relief is suddenly torn out of me.
My body is jerked backwards, as if gravity moved sideways. I close my eyes as I fall into the dim light of defeat. I hear the echo of a door slam shut and I’m suddenly forced up on my feet. A slam into the wall forces the air out of me. Bursts of light blind my vision, but I recognize his voice.
“Where ya going Markie?”
“Nowhere,” I answer him. “I just really had to go.”
Seth’s been picking on me ever since school started this year. He treats everyone like crap but I’m the only one who gets any special treatment. He’s usually around with two other guys. But for some reason, they’re not here.
Seth laughs, “Well that’s why you’re in the bathroom.”
“I meant that I had to go home.”
“I know what you meant dip-shit!” I flinch as he raises his fist in the air. I’m waiting for the pain to hit me. Instinctively I yelp, but the punch isn’t thrown yet.
Seth gets to the point, “So where’s the homework?”
I look away in grim silence, I’m trying so hard not to cry but I can feel his anger building up. He puts more pressure on the arm that’s pinning me to the wall. It’s starting to hurt. I wince again from the pain.
Seth slowly says through his teeth, “Did you do it?”
I can’t avoid what’s about to happen, but I can stall for a few seconds. I’ll have to remember what it’s like not to feel the aches and bruises.
“Tell me!” Seth screams at me.
The words run through me in sheer panic, “There was another blackout and I couldn’t do your homework! I’m sorry!”
“What about math?” He forms a fist.
“…No.”
“Science?” Pulls back.
My voice is shrinking, “No.”
“English?” Aims.
“I did that, all you had was the reading log.”
Seth stops in a moment of surprise. He scratches the back of his buzz-cut head. This must be how he thinks, if he thinks at all. He looks at me, a bit unsure of what to do. “Fine, I won’t beat you up that hard. Just cause English is the one I need most.”
He raises his fist again.
“No Seth, please. I can do the rest of it right now.”
“Don’t move and I’ll make it quick.”

I shut the door behind me. Yelling hurts my left cheek; I think the swelling’s down. “Mom, I’m home!”
“You’re late…” She says.
Walking into the kitchen I can see my mom cooking a sub sandwich. Her hair is in a ponytail and a bandana crowns the top of her head. She must have been cleaning after she came home.
“And you’re home early.”
“I got the rest of the day off. What about you?”
“I…” Got to think of something quick, “I fell down the stairs at school. The nurse had to help this other kid then me.”
She wasn’t looking at me, “Let me guess, then you missed the bus so you had to wait for the next one or walk home.”
“…Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
Out eyes meet but I’m soon staring at my ragged shoelaces. I can feel her looking at me with those honey brown eyes, my eyes. They’re beautiful, but they can also be intimidating. I want to blurt out the truth, but I can’t. It’ll only make things worse.
“You’ve got some really bad luck then.” My mom puts down the food and walks over to me. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mark.” She tries to lift my head but I push her hand away.
“I said I’m fine!”
Another silent moment. My words linger in the air under the sound of the fridge humming. I can hear myself say those last words. I sound angry, sad, and tired.
“Sorry mom.”
“Long day huh?”
“I guess you can say that.”
I go to the other side of the kitchen and make myself a glass of iced tea. I’m holding my breath while I fan the tea mix from the air. Screw the ice; I need to relax. I chug half of the tea, take a deep breath, and then continue drinking, but at a normal pace. I’m some kind of tea-aholic.
My mom says in an Australian accent as I turn around, “Was your day as long as this beauty?”
She’s holding a humongous sub sandwich. Her hands are poised as if she was holding a crocodile, but the only thing animal-like about the sub is the size. Two olives are toothpicked to the front end, giving it green and red eyeballs. The “mouth” is drooping in a comical way with a thick slice of ham hanging like a tongue.
I knew what it was, but I didn’t expect her to do something like that. My only reaction is to laugh, but iced tea pours out of my nostrils. I’m coughing over the sink as if I had almost drowned. There’s sugar stuck in my throat. I manage a smile. “Don’t do that while I’m drinking!”
She laughs, “You should have seen your face!”
“That things huge.”
“It’s a freakin’ baguette.”
“Must have cost a lot…”
“Oh, don’t worry, one of my friends at work gave it to me.”
“Okay, want to cut me a piece?”
Mom looked at me in disbelief, “The hell are you taking about?”
“What? You can’t eat that all by yourself!”
“You don’t know that.”
“But it’s half your height!”
“I’m just kidding.” She pinches my cheek, hard, and walks away with a piece of the sub. “Jeez, you’re a bit serious today.”
The pinch flares the bruise up. I tightly grip the end of the counter as the pain subsides, “Or you’re just in a really good mood.” I watch my mother take her plate into the living room. There’s a bit of grace in her walk, almost like one of those happy period commercials. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.
“It’s cause the Deadlocked world premiere is in half an hour.”
“Mom? Are you serious?”
“You’re the serious one.”
“Have you seen the commercials for that? It’s all real, senseless violence.”
“I thought you kids were into that kind of stuff.”
“Everyone but me.”
“Besides, I’m only watching it because—” Hesitation, I could hear it in her voice. This is the first time she cuts herself off.
I occupy myself by walking into the hall. I pretend as if I didn’t hear her. “What?”
“Nothing… Aren’t you going to watch it?”
“No, I’m gonna eat and do my homework. Maybe watch some T.V after you’re finished.”
“Mark wait.” She turns around on the sofa. “Watch it with me.”
Her head is resting on her arms on the edge of the couch. The T.V is shining bright behind her. There’s something childish about her.
“Really?” I say.
“Please. I’m actually kind of scared.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t want to see something like that alone.”
“Fine, just cause I missed your food.”
My mom takes out a bowl of popcorn from who knows where. I guess she had it ready. This is turning out to be a pretty good day. If only my body didn’t hurt as much. If only I didn’t have to deal with Seth. I’d have more friends, better grades; my life would be perfect.
I think my mom noticed I was spacing off because she started shaking my shoulder. “Mark, it’s starting!”
The United States Federal Seal is displayed on the television. I stare at the eagle on the seal: powerful, majestic, free. Then the screen begins to flicker. I thought we were losing signal or something, but then I realize that it’s a transitional effect. The eagle blurs and fades, almost as if it’s flying into a sandstorm. A video is shown, the date, time, and location at the top left corner. There’s a man in a military suit standing at a podium. A logo of a skull behind bars is draped from a triangular flag behind him.
The man runs a hand through his buzzed cut hair. A pair of dog tags proudly hangs from his thick neck. If Seth had joined the army and survived four world wars, he would look like this guy. Judging from his rainbow of badges, he must be a very important military figure. The camera slowly zooms in on him.
“My name is Kent Ravenger, President of the Prisons Bureau and the head of military affairs. I address this speech not only to the United States Association of Federal Bureaus, but to the entire world. We live in an era of great economic depression where criminal activity has begun to flourish. Americans can no longer feel safe going to work or even walking on the sidewalk of our nation’s streets. Cop mortalities are on the rise at an alarming rate, lowering the effectiveness of police departments. How can a government protect its people, if they can’t even protect themselves?
That is why I have been given the authority to carry out a solution.
As of now, every police department in the United States will be under the control of a hired, state lieutenant. Each of which will command an elite army to patrol and fight against this criminal threat. Any criminal incarcerated will be punished beyond the extent of the law. Those with two-year sentences and above will be sent to a special prison.”
Ravenger’s ambitious grin made the members of the Federal Bureaus adjust themselves in their seats. I could see the look in some of their faces, the realization that they have been supporting a power-hungry tyrant. Some could have been blackmailed. But it’s too late.
“Deadlocked is the solution, to overcrowded prisons, to record-crime rates, to our economic depression, and to regain our freedom.” He continued, “Deadlocked, is a free-roam prison stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Its geographical map is made up of five different terrains, in which prisoners will be placed according to the magnitude of their crime. The more dangerous the terrain, the more the prisoner will be broadcasted, which means a higher chance that a safe release will be rewarded. It is for this reason that the ruins of a city will serve as a starting point. And the audience has the power to judge and punish!
Our first prisoner has been charged with espionage and theft not only from Deadlocked, but from the United States government. He has stolen a total of fourty-nine million, three hundred and seventy thousand dollars, and killed over 50 Deadlocked workers.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Deadlock’s first prisoner, Richter Moore!”