The New Guy
Characters: Wren and Jackson Setting: cafeteria, block a, evening
Wren had gone for a walk, which included a trip to the arts and crafts room. She had a few things she wanted to do there, and she’d spent a good hour going through everything. She’d started making herself some paper chains, and those were draped around her shoulders as she walked into the cafeteria. Hitting the button to call the elevator, she hummed softly to herself as she waited for the doors to open.
Jackson looked down at his now free hands and feet, having almost forgotten how good it felt not to be shackled. At the prison he was at, he was feared by a lot of people. He supposed they had good reasons though, so he didn’t hold it against them. But still, seeing the guard not even look him in the eye as he unchained him hurt just a little. He didn’t say a word though, just stepped into the elevator and watched as the doors slid closed. He had no idea what to expect when they reopened, but he could honestly say he wasn’t expected to be greeted by a girl standing right there. His eyebrows rose and he almost smiled, until he remembered who he was and just how likely it was he’d be recognized. Still, when their eyes met, he nodded politely, adjusting his grip on his bag and taking a step forward, out of the elevator and into a whole new world.
Wren hadn't been expecting anyone to be in there, which was a silly assumption, she supposed. She smiled, however, and stepped back to allow him room to exit. Noting the bag, and the fact that she had not seen him previously, she ventured a guess. "Have you just arrived?" she asked.
Jackson was on his way to hunt down his room and was taken aback when the girl actually spoke to him. He turned to look at her, an easy smile coming to his face. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said, exchanging the bag between hands before holding the free one out for her. “I’m Jackson. And I have no idea where I’m going. They sort of just drop you off and leave you to figure it out yourself, don’t they?”
Wren shook his hand, no hint of recognition in her eyes as she smiled at him in greeting. His name didn't envoke anything either. "I know sometimes they do. If you are brought in during the night, generally I believe the process is to wake up in your assigned room." she offered. "What room are you in? I can help you find it. My name is Wren. Pleased to meet you, Jackson."
Jackson thought about that for a moment. “Room 2,” he finally said once he remembered. “I know it’s on this block somewhere.” When she had said he would have just woken up in his room had he been brought in in the middle of the night, his eyebrows rose. “That’s pretty freaky. Imagine the movie deals I’d get if that story got out there. ‘Convicted killer Jackson Wise wakes up in unfamiliar room in the middle of the night.’” He shook his head. “I guess they failed to tell me that one would be happening since I arrived during the day.”
Room two. Where Leandro had been. It gave her an internal pang when he said it. He was gone, she knew, but he was being replaced with another so quickly? She supposed it was just how this was going to be. While aware she was living in an entire society of criminals, she wasn't actually used to people throwing their convictions out there like that. So, she blinked slightly, even if she didn't back away or anything. "I suppose." she agreed with him, starting to lead the way out of the cafeteria. "You were convicted of murder?" she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
“Yes,” he said. There was no sense in hiding it. The truth was going to come out eventually, so lying would do him no good. “I’ve been in a maximum security prison for the past three years. But lucky me, I was a good boy and was volunteered to come here. I gotta say, I haven’t been here long or seen much but it’s already infinitely better than where I was.” He looked at her as he fell into step beside her. “So what’s it like here?” he asked. “Any chances of being bludgeoned to death with a broomstick in the bathroom?” It was a joke, one she probably wouldn’t get. It just so happened to be the way another serial killer he was compared to had died. But he didn’t elaborate on that fact or the joke. Just because he confessed why he was there didn’t mean he was going to give out the intimate details. It was all in the papers anyway.
Wren was not comforted by his details, though really she couldn't help but think of it in more abstract terms. If she and Wu got into 'office' so to speak, then this was going to come up. She could deal with it. She gave no external indication that anything he said bothered her, instead she listened, shaking her head at his last question. "Not so far." she told him truthfully. "So far, things have been fairly calm. There's been one death, though people believe that was accidental or suicide as opposed to any outside influences." she explained.
Glancing around, she continued, steering them towards room two. "It's different here." she told him. "Not like prison at all, in my experience so far. As you can clearly see, it's cohabitation with males and females, therefore that's a rather large difference. People have been attempting to get to know one another, and there haven't been emergences of some typical prison antics. For instance, I'm certain I would have noticed if a gang had formed. There's a lot less intimidation going on. Life entails getting up, reading any communications from others or the administration, occasionally doing tasks, and finding ways to fill the time."
It all sounded very boring, but then again, the three years in prison hadn’t been loaded with excitement either. People would be surprised to know just how boring it was, especially when people were too afraid to approach you or confront you. Maybe he should keep his history quiet, that way he at least had a chance for friends. He had none where he came from, and that was very disappointing. “What do you do to fill the time?” he asked curiously, looking over at her as they walked. She was pretty, friendly, and open, something Jackson missed about people back when he was just Jackson Wise, bartender and free man.
"I work on the farm in block B, sometimes I give people readings--Tarot, mostly, though I could do other forms of divination if people requested it." she explained. "Beyond that, it depends. I don't have a truly set routine yet, honestly. It seems like every other day or so there's something else going on with the community as a whole that requires my attention, therefore I get occupied with that." She gave him a light smile.
Jackson listened with interest as she explained what she did, wondering what he could do to pass the time himself. He didn’t have many trades unless the people of this place wanted someone to mix drinks for them. “Does this place need a bartender?” he joked, even though inside he was starting to feel uneasy, wondering if he’d find a place where he fit in. “So you do Tarot?” he said, perking up. “Think you can give me a reading sometime? I’ve never had one done for me before. I think it would be pretty cool.”
"Oddly enough, yes. The administration just put forth the idea of jobs, and bartending was on the list." she told him, smiling. She was glad that there was something he might be able to latch onto right away, and that could be something that would help him get to know others better.
When he asked about her Tarot, she nodded. "I do, and certainly." she said, having no problem at all with it. She'd gotten her stride back with that, and therefore she was happy to have anyone who wanted a reading done. "I've been doing readings since I was a child."
Jackson nodded. “I’ll have to look into taking up that position,” he said, mulling it over as they walked. “What exactly is Tarot all about? Does it tell you the future, the past, or something about yourself? I know it’s supposed to answer a question for you, but everyone I’ve ever talked to about it explained it in different ways and left me confused. That’s probably why I’ve never had one done. But now I can honestly say I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.” Plus, he was curious to see what it was all about. “Do you have a gift?” he asked. He believed in psychics, and everything like that. Hell, he was in his 30s before he started believing vampires weren’t real. His mind was always open to all possibilities.
"They asked us to put up a post on the journal system--everyone has a journal, it's how they give you messages, and how you can talk to others over the computers here--to plead your case, so I encourage you to tell people that you would like to be considered for the position. Voting apparently happens soon." Wren told him, trying to fill in the blanks for him.
"Tarot is a lot of things. It's a guide. A lot of people will try to tell you that it tells the future, but that isn't really correct. It taps into fate, as far as I'm concerned, but what it really is is a perspective check. It brings up what's gone on before, and highlights it, it brings together elements from the present, so you know which directions to focus on, and gives you a perspective on what may come to pass. You probably got a lot of different answers because it means different things to different people. Everything is subjective, though my goal with it is to be as objective as possible. That and I never jade a result. I won't sit there and tell people what they want to hear, if it isn't in the cards. But it also isn't an answer sheet. A lot of people get a reading, expecting it to have some magical answer key to everything, and that simply isn't possible. It's all perspectives and directions. Possibilities." Wren explained, clearly passionate about the topic. When he asked about her having a gift, she tried to work out how to answer that. "I've been told I do, from different sources, and for different reasons." she said.
Jackson listened closely to her explanation, eager to learn all he could about her. It had been so long since someone had willingly talked to him that he couldn’t help but absorb the conversation. “That’s fascinating,” he said honestly. “The way you explain it, it actually makes sense to me. I never considered that it might have different meanings for different people. I guess in that sense, it’s like the bible. And you either believe it or you don’t. I’m glad we met, Wren. I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to talk to anyone on my first day. Where I came from, I was sort of treated like an outsider.”
Giving him a warm smile, she was pleased he wasn't looking at her strangely. Also, it seemed like he was genuinely pleased to have met, and that she was happy about as well. "Well, you've got a new start here." she told him. "So, hopefully this is the start of a new trend, a new life." She came to his door, and stopped in front of it. "Here's your room." she told him. "If you want someone to show you around, I can do that as well, either now, or after you get settled sometime." she offered, wanting to be helpful.
Jackson didn’t let his hopes get up. He knew he was considered a twisted individual and there were a lot of people in America who hated him and had wished he’d been given the death penalty for what he’d done. Was he ashamed of it? In a way. Did he regret it? At times. Would he do it again? If given the chance, definitely. There was no changing for him. This was who he was, and he learned to cope with that a long time ago. “That would be great,” he said honestly. “I haven’t had this much freedom in a while, so I’m down for a tour whenever you’re ready.”
Wren thought about it. She knew the administration had told everyone that they would be shutting down the elevators and the like this evening. If she wound up missing the mark by giving a tour, would she have a place to stay? She was guessing Chester or Adam would allow it. So, she decided to go with that. "If you wanted to drop your bag off, I could do it now."
Jackson looked down at his bag, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he said, looking around to take in his surroundings. “So this is my room?” He already had it explained to him that he would have his own room. It sort of disappointed him that he wouldn’t have anyone to share it with. He was kept in a single cell at the prison facility as well. Company would have been nice, but being free to come and go from his room as he pleased would probably help out with that a lot. He took a step towards the door and fished his key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside, turning around as he looked at it all. It was so....normal. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, that the whole thing was a joke? A prank to play on someone who’s been bad? He’d been wary when they told him about this program, and the more he saw of this place, the more he was sure this must be some kind of mistake. He walked over to his bed and sat the bag down on it, looking at it before returning to Wren with a smile. “Ready when you are.”
She almost expected there to be a crash, Leandro's 'security measures' sounding, but of course they weren't there. He was gone and so was all of his stuff. Now there was Jackson in his place. She smiled at him when he returned, and she glanced around. "First things first," she started. "The first doors we passed, those led to the kitchen." she explained, pointing it out for him. "So, any time you are hungry, head in there. Though there's a very nice woman, Carmel, who does large meals for the group." she added, starting a slow stroll towards the courtyard.
Jackson looked in the direction she was pointing and saw the doors she was talking about, nodding to himself to commit the doors to memory. It helped that it was close to his room. “Alright,” he said, falling into step beside her. “So this Carmel, she’s not in for poisoning people’s food, is she?” he asked, only half joking. He didn’t know anyone or their history, so he had no choice but to wonder what they were all there for. He wouldn’t go around asking people directly, but the curiosity was there. He ran a hand through his hair, looking back over his shoulder towards the doors to the kitchen. He’d be sure to stop by and introduce himself to Carmel.
"No." Wren said, knowing that much at least. "Though, I should probably tell you, no one's crime has been posted anywhere. The administration has not released any information like that. Some people are very open about what happened with them, others are not. But it's all up to you." she said. "Carmel is a very nice person, though. It looks like officially she will have the job of the facility cook, but up until today, she was just doing it because she wanted to."
Jackson smiled. “I can respect that,” he said with a nod. “I was only joking. I don’t really plan to go up to people and ask what they’re in for. I know I wouldn’t want someone badgering me for details. I guess I’m just used to things being run differently. It’s going to take a while for it all to sink in. Right now, it seems a little too good to be true. And if I learned one thing, it’s that something that seems too good to be true probably is.”
"I think it's been a big adjustment for everyone." Wren said sympathetically. "It's better, I believe, at least, but different none the less." And some people couldn't let go of their time in prison. She pointed to the gym as they got nearer to it. "There's the gym, open I think all the time. I wouldn't know, I haven't gone in there myself." she admitted.
She paused, watching him as they walked. "Are you already distrustful?" she asked.
Jackson looked at her, shrugging a shoulder. “Where I come from, everyone is distrustful of each other, even if they’re in some strange allegiance. I hate being suspicious of motives, but being here, it raises a lot of questions. I probably should just count my lucky stars and good fortune, but....” He shrugged again, not sure how to continue that thought. He eyed the gym for a moment before walking over to the door and pulling it open, poking his head inside. “Nice,” he said, removing his head and letting the door fall shut again. “Where to next? Is there a library? I was told there would be a library.”
Wren turned then pointed up to the library door. "The library is right there. Would you like to go now?" she asked, nodding for him to follow her to the nearest stairwell. "I find it interesting." she told him, continuing her train of thought. "You aren't the only one. There's a mildly distressing number of people here who have all turned a suspicious eye towards the administration, even if I do not feel there's been ample amount of evidence to illicit that result. We know this is a new program, experimental, even. We know this is a trial, therefore there will be bumps in the road, and it's meant to change everything about the current system. Yet everyone seems to react as if all of the growing pains, or alien circumstances equate ill intentioned overseers. It doesn't quite make sense, objectively speaking."
Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “Something definitely doesn’t make sense here,” he said, gazing at the library as he followed her. “I love to read. I’ve been through a lot of books in my life. It’s a great escape from reality. Sometimes I use it to curb the....” His voice trailed off, not wanting to say too much. “Anyway, books are awesome. I tend to read everything I get my hands on. I especially love reading other people’s poetry. I suck at writing myself, but I can always appreciate someone else’s talent.” When they got to the door, he looked at it, pausing for a moment, then he looked at her and smiled, motioning forward. “Ladies first.”
Wren took his acknowledgement and then clear subject change as a cue that he didn't want to talk more about her insights on things. So, she let that drop, and walked up the steps with a smile at him. "I enjoy books as well." she told him. "I have had limited interaction with the world at large, therefore they've been a valuable tool for my education." she shared. "Curb the...?" she asked, unsure if he would answer or not, but it was curious, so she felt like she needed to at least attempt to find out what he was going to say.
Jackson cleared his throat, and offered her a smile. “Nothing,” he said. “I meant to say I use it to curb my appetite for certain foods and certain desires. It’s easy to get lost in a good book on those lonely nights. You understand.” He winked at her and began making his way to the library. He kept expecting someone to jump out and stop him from roaming so freely, and he wondered when he’d get used to the idea that that wasn’t going to happen. As he stepped into the library, he gasped, taking in the rows of books. “This is what I imagine Heaven looks like,” he said quietly, scanning the shelves, his fingers itching to run over the bindings of the books in front of him.
I understand? she thought, but she didn't contradict him at all, instead smiling at him as his enthusiasm for the library was loud and clear. "I know I quite appreciated it's presence." she said. "As far as I can tell, it's a very good collection. There's a wide variety, which should cater to a lot of different tastes or moods."
Jackson nodded in agreement, already reading the titles closest to him, but he was still too nervous to reach out and pull one out. “It’s amazing,” he said, walking along the shelves, taking it all in. “So we can really come in here anytime we want and check out a book? Just like that?” This was another thing that just seemed too good to be true, but he didn’t say that. He just looked at the books with obvious fascination, knowing what room he’d be spending a lot of time in.
"So far, there hasn't been a 'check out' process, you just come in and take what you wish. After someone is voted in as a librarian, that may change. So, you may want to take a first run of books you wish to read, before tomorrow." she encouraged. She wanted the transition to be smooth for him, and if books helped, then she'd help him carry them back to his room if he needed it.
Jackson couldn’t help but look skeptical when he was told he was free to take books as he pleased without recording it somehow, somewhere. “Okay,” he said uncertainly, reaching for a book, but his hand paused before he actually touched it. It hovered there for a moment before falling back down by his side. “Maybe I’ll just come back later to get them,” he said, still uncertain of where he was. He’d taken freedom for granted for 39 years, and now that a lot of it was handed back to him, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “What’s next on our tour?”
Wren watched him as he hesitated and gave him a gentle smile. "It really is okay." she promised him, though she started for the door. "Well, there's the activity room, and the spiritual room on the second level too. The activity room is mostly arts and crafts, and video games. The spiritual room is a nondenominational religious sort of area." She pointed in the directions of both rooms.
Jackson nodded, and began following her. He was almost out the door with her when something caught his eye. He steered away from her towards the book on the shelf, the binding catching his eye. Human Anatomy. He picked it up and began flipping through the pages, pausing on some of the glossy pages, looking at the detailed photos. It was a good moment before he remembered her, turning to look at her and giving her a smile. “I’ll borrow this one,” he said, tucking the book under his arm. He began walking with her. “Did you say something about religion and video games?”
Wren noted what he took, saying nothing about it, though part of her connected 'I'm a killer' with the book he chose. But perhaps she was being paranoid. "Yes, in the activity room, there's video games available, as well as a lot of arts and crafts materials. And there's a room for anyone to practice religion, should they wish to. It's a pleasant enough room."
Jackson followed her out of the library, holding the book almost protectively. “I believe in God, so I might make use of the chapel....it is a chapel, right? Anyway, I will go check it out later. I might try a few video games, but I’ve never been that good at them.” He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “So what’s your favorite room in this place? Where’s your hideaway? Mine will probably be the library.”
"Less an actual chapel, and more just a room that can act as one." Wren told him. "I've never really played video games myself. I had some curiosity, but not enough to attempt them." She imagined she wouldn't be very good at them, really. They probably took a different set of skills that she didn't possess. "The farm is, so far." she told him. "I spend a lot of time there. It needs a lot of tending, and not many people know anything about how to farm, so that leaves me and Charlie." she said, making sure she used the name he gave other people, so as not to confuse Jackson.
Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much about farming, but I’d make a great butcher,” he told her. “I know a lot about anatomy and would be able to handle myself around slabs of meat.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say when he just admitted to being a killer, but a skill was a skill, and who knew? Maybe they could use it here. “But I’m sure the meat here comes prepackaged, am I right?”
"You should speak with Carmel, she may like having someone around with those skills." Wren told him, wanting to be helpful. "I am actually unsure if the meat is pre-packaged. I'm not certain it is, honestly. And, if you wanted to carve, perhaps you could request meat that you could work with."
If there was one thing Jackson prided himself in, it was his ability to carve. It was in the papers and tabloids that Jackson carved his victims up, and that was probably the reason he was as good as he was at it. But he would have never learned if he hadn’t had a job as a butcher for a few years back in Louisiana. Jackson thought longingly of the days when he was free to do as he pleased, and the feel of flesh giving away beneath his fingers after cutting it through. It made him nostalgic. “I’ll seek her out,” he said with a sad smile.
"You could contact her on the journals as well. You can privately message people, so you could get in touch with her straight away. I'm sure she'd appreciate having someone else help her out." Wren said, thinking Carmel was a very nice woman, and if she could get some aid in the kitchen? That was good.
Jackson’s smile widened. “I’d like that,” he said genuinely, adjusting the book he was holding until it was pressed against his chest. “I’ll send her a PM as soon as I get online. Any way I can help out, I’m willing. If I can’t help her in the kitchen, maybe I can help out in the library or at the bar. You have not lived until you’ve had one of my martinis,” he promised her with a wink.
Wren smiled, blushing a faint bit. "I have never had a martini, period." she told him. "I've had very little alcohol." And by 'very little' she meant really she'd had some here. Just the twice. So, she wasn't well versed in it. She didn't view herself as being a habitual drinker either.
“I don’t drink,” Jackson said firmly. “I don’t do anything that might weaken my senses. I like staying sharp. But I needed a job, and I got the license, so I have been serving drinks for over a decade, and have been told I’m very good at what I do.” He shrugged again, then paused thoughtfully. “I have a question, and I’m not sure how to ask it.....”
"Be straight forward." Wren invited. "If I can answer, I will." she promised, then waited, giving him room to ask whatever it was he wanted.
“Well....” Jackson began, looking back and forth down the hall to make sure they were alone and shuffling his feet awkwardly, suddenly shy. “Do people here....you know.....I mean, do they.....” he leaned in, whispering though there was no one around to hear. “Have sex?” He knew in prison, inmates had sex all the time, but since this was new territory here, he wasn’t quite sure how things worked. “I mean, are there relationships? What do people do when they get lonely?” He paused, then added, “Sorry, that was three questions.”
Wren smiled, not looking embarrassed at all. "People do have relationships, yes, and I imagine that many are engaging in physical intimacy. Birth control has been provided." she told him, being straight forward herself. It clearly was not awkward for her to answer questions about it. "As for what people do when they get lonely, I imagine the same things they did when they were home. But either way, yes, there's fraternization going on."
Jackson nodded, biting his bottom lip and looking down at his feet, still acting almost painfully shy. He took a deep breath, and looked back up, meeting her eyes again. “Of course they do,” he said with a smile, shifting his book in his arms. It might be awhile before this one found its way back to the shelves. “Well, what’s next on the tour?” he asked, gathering himself and ready to move forward.
"The pool?" Wren suggested. "I'm sorry, there honestly isn't all that much. It's sort of a small place, and the other block will need to wait until tomorrow. Though there's a music room there, a shop..." she trailed off. "I wish there was more to show you."
Jackson smiled, showing her he understood. “It’s all good,” he said. “I’m starting to get tired anyway.” Though that was a lie. He was wide awake and eager to get back to his room so he could look at the book in greater detail. “Just point me in the direction of my room, and I’ll call it a night. Thank you so much for showing the newbie around. I really appreciate it. Not easy being the new kid, you know?”
"I do. But don't worry too much. We get a lot of people in and out, so you won't be the new guy for very long." she told him. "Your room is right there," she said, pointing in the direction of his door. "Please let me know if you need anything or have any other questions." Wren smiled at him, glad to have been of help.
Jackson nodded, reaching out his hand to shake hers again. “Thanks for everything, Wren. I mean it,” he said, and began heading in the direction of his room. He slid his fingers over the front of the book, anticipating that moment alone where he could open it. He wanted to see what new wonders it held in store for him. Just because you put an animal in a cage doesn’t mean you take the beast out of him.