Daemon

back.
    ‘Who is this? I’ll beat your sorry ass—’
    She ignored him.
‘Do you want to leave this place?’
    It was a strange damned voice. Like it was being put through one of those voice-altering microphones. It could be a guard talking through one to make his voice sound like a woman’s. ‘No, I want to stay here and keep working for Warmonk.’
    She kept talking. ‘
I cannot understand whole sentences. I am an interactive voice system, Mr Moze-ly. You will need to confine your answers to “yes” or “no” when I prompt you. Do you understand?
’
    Mosely rolled his eyes. ‘Yes.’
    ‘
Good. You know that the
TeleMaster
system has a synthetic voice module. Correct?
’
    ‘Yes.’ So that’s how they were doing it. Mosely remembered from his training that the system used synthetic voice software to read announcements to clients on hold. Just type in the text, and the system would read it out loud over the phone. Maybe that’s what the techs had hooked up to mess with him.He’d play along for now. He looked at the screen. If these sales were real, he would be more than happy to play along.
    ‘
This entire facility is run by databases, Mr Moze-ly. Not just the call center. The doors, the lights, the accounting, the prison rosters – it is all handled by database software. Do you understand?
’
    He tried to contain his irritation. ‘Yes.’
    ‘
I will prove my power to you; you have only to consent
.’ There was a pause. ‘
Do you want me to release you from this place?
’
    It was a trap, of course.
    She was right on top of that: ‘
If I was a guard, legally this would constitute entrapment
.’
    He’d studied law during his second rap for trafficking five years ago. He failed the bar exam, but The Voice was right. Encouraging his escape would definitely constitute entrapment. It would get the tech who was pulling this stunt in big trouble and might get Mosely some time off for keeping his mouth shut.
    She repeated her question. ‘
Do you want me to release you from this place? I cannot help you unless you say “yes
.”’
    He took a deep breath and looked around again. ‘Yes.’
    ‘
The next time we speak, you will know the difference I can make in your life
.’ She hung up.
    ‘Computer bitch.’
    The screen filled with yet another sale. Mosely looked up to see the floor supervisor coming down the line to him.
    ‘Here we go …’ There weren’t any guards walking with the supervisor, though.
    The man pointed at Mosely and smiled as he came up. ‘Mosely, how the hell did you close six sales in five minutes? That’s gotta be a facility record. Keep it up and I’ll get you a golf jacket.’ He walked on past.
    Mosely stared at the steel mesh on the cubicle wall in front of him. ‘That’s gonna be useful.’
    *
    Mosely sat in his cell reading Cervantes’s
Don Quixote
and wearing a brand-new golf jacket.
    Stokes, one of his three cellmates, just laughed at him. ‘Chaz, why are you wearin’ that stupid shit?’
    Mosely didn’t even look up from his book. ‘Because I am clearly a valuable asset to The Man.’
    Stokes laughed uproariously.
    Mosely was popular. Easygoing but physically intimidating. Tall and thickly muscled, his arms were pocked with bullet scars and faded gang tattoos. He avoided the Muslim Brotherhood, and also managed to gain the respect of the Latinos and White Supremacists because he just plain had charisma. Perhaps that was why he’d been given a chance in the telemarketing pit.
    Stokes suddenly stopped laughing. Mosely looked up. Four prison guards stood outside the cell door, with Alfred Norris, the burly red-faced watch officer, at the head of them. He didn’t look happy.
    ‘Mosely, what the fuck’s the matter with you? You love this place so much you don’t want to leave?’
    Mosely was cautious. He lowered the book. ‘I don’t understand, Norris.’
    ‘Your transfer. Why isn’t your shit packed up?’
    Mosely played it cool, but something was definitely afoot. He put the book down and got up. ‘I’m transferring?’
    ‘Don’t you even think of bustin’ my balls, Mosely. I don’t know whose dick you sucked to get into a medium-security lockup, but I’m not gonna sit around and wait here all day. This work order is dated last month, so you had to know about it. Get up off your ass and grab your shit!’
    Mosely got busy.
    Within five minutes Mosely was walking down the cell block, carrying a box containing his few personal effects and