Cravena Crater Penal Colony
Session ID: TER-5475
Cycle: 219
Orbit: 902 post-terraforming
Prisoner Info
ID: L49
Name: Redacted in compliance with Warden-issued depersonification directive.
Age: Redacted in compliance with Warden-issued depersonification directive.
Gender: Male
Species: Southwest African Lion, Terran origin
H/W: 1.91m/88kg
VIDEO-TRANSCRIPT BEGIN
06:00 – L49 sleeps in his cell. Low-level shock administered. L49 awakes and attempts to remove control collar. Mid-level shock administered. L49 ceases attempt to remove control collar.
06:05 – Assigned Officer (henceforth referred to as AO for the sake of brevity) visits L49’s cell and escorts him to Room 201. Drones are dispatched to cell for cleaning. Belongings are collected and incinerated.
06:13 – L49 and AO arrive at Room 201. L49 panics. Mid-level shock administered. L49 attempts to flee. AO activates neural override. L49 compliant.
06:15 – L49 is stripped and restrained in Level 9 configuration. Mobility less than 3%. L49’s uniform is handed to service drone for incineration. AO disables neural override and removes control collar. L49 panics and attempts to break free from the straps. AO administers sub-lethal dose of Oversense intravenously. L49 ceases struggling and quietly sobs. AO begins applying nanite oil to L49’s naked body. As a result of the aphrodisiac effects of Oversense, L49 becomes erect during the oil massage.
06:20 – AO completes oil application. Oversense effect at its peak. L49’s physio-neural response measured at 24.7% above the Linderhof-Fehrwight threshold. Nanites have cleared 99.9% of detritus and dead skin cells. Vitals within acceptable parameters. Session cleared to begin.
06:21 – First wave of stimulators deployed, targeting upper body. Individual stimulators applied to L49’s ears, neck, chest, nipples, underarms, palms, sides, belly and belly button. L49 laughs hysterically. Hypergargalesthesia induced successfully.
06:30 – Second wave of stimulators deployed, targeting lower body. Individual stimulators applied to L49’s thighs, knees, and feet, sub-stimulators targeting toes. L49 applies increased force to ankle and toe restraints but no movement is observed. Heart rate measured at over 200 BPM.
06:40 – Third wave of stimulators deployed, targeting genitals. Individual stimulators applied to L49’s penis and testicles. L49 orgasms. Physio-neural response spikes. Stimulator intensity set to maximum.
06:44 – L49 orgasms. Oxygen concentration in bloodstream decreasing to critical levels.
06:47 – L49 orgasms. Brain scan indicates irreversible psychological damage.
06:49 – L49 orgasms.
06:52 – L49 orgasms.
06:54 – L49 orgasms.
06:56 – L49 orgasms.
06:59 – Session concluded. Stimulators disabled. AO follows post-session disposal procedures. Drones are dispatched to clean and disinfect Room 201.
VIDEO-TRANSCRIPT END
36/90 P.T.
I am the unluckiest bird this side of the Laguna Asteroid Belt.
I must’ve pissed someone off. It’s the only logical way to explain why out of all the beautiful, peaceful, safe systems in the charted parted of the Galaxy, I got guard duty at fucking Cravena.
Fuck SecuGal, I should’ve taken that body-guarding gig for Canem Protection Services instead.
Let me pose you a question, my hypothetical reader: What is the best way to dispose of the living trash of galactic society? Did you answer “ship them off into an abandoned mining colony for the rest of their miserable, useless lives”? Very good! That place is Cravena Crater Penal Colony. (What a mouthful, eh?) Don’t let that last word deceive you: Colony. No colonization is done there. They terraformed the place back in the Second Discoveries and then gave up on it when they realized that an icy, tiny asteroid in the outer reaches of the civilized cosmos made for a terrible outpost. There was a mining op running there for a couple decades before they ditched that too.
If there’s a more worthless rock floating through space, it hasn’t been found yet.
Still, the AI that I (and every other organic) have the displeasure of calling our ruler, has found a use for this over-sized pebble. In its boundless algorithmic brilliance, it concluded that the best use for Cravena is to utilize the existing infrastructure left there from its less inert days and reconvert it into a prison-slash-forced-labor-camp for criminals beyond rehabilitation.
In my opinion, it would be more humane to just put a bullet in their heads.
From now on, and for the next five years (that’s how long my contract with SecuGal lasts), I’ll maintain this journal in an attempt to retain my sanity.
The shuttle leaves tomorrow.
38/90 P.T.
I’ve arrived at Cravena yesterday – me and two other guys from the company. Poor bastards… The trip was nice enough, at least. We flew executive.
Most of the terra-forming has decayed, and the atmosphere, well… there is no atmosphere. They built a dome over the crater where the penal colony’s at and they only bother to maintain a breathable environment within it. Everything outside the crater is ice, ice and more ice. Why anyone ever decided to build anything here is beyond me.
We didn’t get a welcome party. As soon as we got to the colony, they handed us over to the Warden. And by “Warden” I mean a disembodied voice that gave us directions to our quarters and ordered us to change into our new uniforms without so much as a friendly “Welcome!”. Yeah… This whole facility is AI operated. Super. Guess that explains why there are so few organics besides the prisoners. There are drones too, but they’re not organics, even if they look an awful lot like us.
We spent the rest of the cycle getting to know the colony and our duties in it. Turns out there’s not a whole lot for us to do as most of the prisoners are wearing control collars which the Warden can activate at any time to override their neural processes for a short while. In other words, mind control. Kind of fucked up, if you ask me, but I lack that perfect sense of utilitarianism of the Warden AI so who cares what I think?
We got an extra-long briefing on inducting new prisoners. I wonder why.
39/90 P.T.
Yup. My hunch was right. New batch of prisoners arrived today. And what’s more? I’ve been granted the honorable role of Assigned Officer to one of them. Not only do I have to carry out the regular guard stuff, but now I also have to play nanny to some piece of shit criminal. What even is the point of this place?! I’ve only been here for two days!!
Deep breaths… Deep breaths…
The prisoner’s name is Cassius Brooks, a shark of some kind (think his file said “Blacktip”), 36-year-old fat fuck that looks mean as hell. He’s in for homicide, did some time at a regular penitentiary before he slit his cellmate’s throat and they decided they didn’t want to deal with him there anymore.
To tell the truth, the guy scares the shit out of me. At, least as his AO, I’ll get a remote to his control collar so that makes me feel a bit safer.
He scoffed when I told him I’d be in charge of him.
I’m sleeping with my gun tonight, just in case…
40/90 P.T.
Took Brooks through the induction procedure today. Escorted him to the examination room and told him to strip, like the Warden said I should. He didn’t comply until I reached for the remote. Damn right.
I strapped him to the examination table and let the AI do its thing. Then some freaky mechanical arm thing with a probe came down from the ceiling and gave him a quick body scan before tattooing his prisoner number on his chest.
Then it did something weird. It swapped out the tattoo needle for a little spinning brush thing and started… tickling him, I guess? I don’t know what that was about but the Warden spent a good five minutes tickling him all over. It went over his belly, sides, pits and feet, then back to his belly and repeated the whole thing again.
Brooks looked pretty weirded out but obviously he couldn’t do much so he just lay there and laughed. It was, admittedly, kind of funny to see such a big, bad guy tied and tickled like that.
No, I don’t have a fetish.
Yes, I’m sure.
After that was done, he went back to his cell and waited to be called to work at the mine. Can you believe they give them pickaxes?! Hilarious!
As his AO, I have to go where he goes and make sure he doesn’t act out of line. If he does, I have full authority to book him for a disciplinary session with either myself, a drone, or the Warden itself. Funnily enough, the Warden never actually mentioned what the sessions are like, but I have a feeling I’ll find out eventually.
I have to go. The Warden just requested a private meeting. I’ll write again tomorrow.
41/90 P.T.
It’s a lot worse than I thought.
Brooks didn’t get sent here to serve a life sentence – well, he did but that’s just one part of it. The real reason why he was sent here is so they can do something called “depersonification”. You can take that literally. They’re literally going to un-person him, erase his personality until he’s more like… a drone, I guess that’s the right comparison.
The Warden told me all about it yesterday. In its own words, Brooks has been classified as an Irredeemable. And that the only way to make an Irredeemable useful it to erase the personality and sense of self that are getting in the way of a perfectly good working body. That kind of talk makes my neck feathers stand on end…
Then it explained how “depersonification” is a lengthy process that take even longer depending on how physically and mentally resilient a prisoner is. And get this: tickling is one of the several methods used to achieve this. (Guess now I know what that whole thing during Brooks’ induction was about.)
This just keeps getting weirder.
My role in all this is to accompany Brooks to his treatment sessions, stay there for as long as they take, and report any changes in behavior to the Warden.
So yeah.
Cassius Brooks. Killed a bunch of people. Gets shipped off to a space rock in the middle of nowhere to get tickled catatonic by robots for the rest of his days. And I have to watch.
No, I DON’T have a fetish!
41/90 P.T.
I really don’t know how to feel today.
I took B255 (that’s Brooks’ prisoner number, by the way, the Warden insisted I should refer to him by his number from now on) to his first session today. He didn’t say a word – in fact, he never does – as I strapped him down to an examination table that was the same as the one in the examination room, only this time I tied his arms above his head. There were straps for his arms, legs, chest and forehead. Then I stood back and watched as it started.
The Warden asked him his name, and he answered “Cassius Brooks”, which apparently was the wrong answer. The Warden corrected him, saying his name was B255. Then two mechanical arms came down with spinning brushes and started tickling his armpits. B255 started laughing. Seems like his pits are really ticklish.
This went on for a couple minutes before he got a break. He was sweating. The Warden asked him again and this time he said his name was B255. Then the Warden asked him about his species and homeworld and he answered “Blacktip Shark” and “Neo-Terra”. The Warden went on to say that he had no species or homeworld before tickling him again. He did his feet this time.
It went on like this for an hour or so before the AI got him to admit that he had no homeworld, no species or gender, no family, no likes or dislikes and no name besides his prisoner number. It was a little sad to see a guy get broken down like that, Irredeemable as he may be.
As I escorted him back to his cell, he actually talked to me. He said: “You can tell that AI shithead to go fuck itself with a wrench.”
I don’t think will, for B255’s sake.
47/90 P.T.
Boy, the last few days have been interesting.
The day after B255’s first session, the Warden gave him an implant on the back of his neck to better interface with his control collar, then he had a session like the one the day before only now the Warden could tell when he was lying. It tickled him for at least two hours with all sorts of brushes. Who’s designing these things? Is there some bureau of tickle scientists that I’m not aware of? I’d very much like to know so I can do my best to avoid them.
Turns out shark skin is actually really soft and sensitive, and B255’s got this faint red hue all over the spots that got tickled. I kind of felt like offering him a massage but I get the feeling that the Warden wouldn’t like that very much… I shouldn’t be saying these things. He’s a murderer and he’s getting what he deserves, but part of me can’t help but feel sorry for him.
The sessions got longer and more intense from then on. Eventually, the Warden started tickling the more… unconventional spots. His neck, knees, palms and even his tail got turns being brushed, sometimes simultaneously. Poor guy looked like he was going to pass out when the Warden tickled his neck, pits and belly at the same time… And then he actually passed out when his feet got added to the treatment. (They call it treatment, but it’s more like torture.)
On a more positive note, at least he’s been slowly but surely opening up to me. He doesn’t seem that hostile anymore, probably has something to do with the fact that I watch him get tickled to tears on a daily basis. It’s mostly just your “please and thank you”s but hey, at least he’s not giving me the cold shoulder anymore.
I’m having another private meeting with the Warden first thing tomorrow where we’ll discuss the next steps of B255’s depersonification, and by “we’ll discuss” I mean “I’ll stand there as he tells me what he’ll do to him next”.
48/90 P.T.
I stood there as the Warden told me what he’s going to do to him next. And here’s what it said: “I’ll destroy B255’s mind.”
No, this isn’t hyperbole. I swear on my tail feathers that these were its words. It seems that B255’s above average mental fortitude has earned him the harshest level of treatment the Warden is legally allowed to administer. High pain tolerance too, meaning we’re taking off the kid gloves. I’m not going to transcribe everything it told me here, but, in short: The tickling will continue and the tickling will get worse.
After today’s tickle session, I pulled B255 aside to the guard quarters and gave him a foot massage. He didn’t complain, which is his way of saying thanks. I just wanted him to feel something nice one last time before his life becomes a living hell, even if he doesn’t deserve it.
49/90 P.T.
I feel like shit, today. Stayed up all night to look at past records of depersonified prisoners – of which there actually aren’t that many. Can you believe some of these take years ?! Yeah. The Warden didn’t give me any time-frame for B255 but things sure aren’t looking good for him… On the bright side, the success rate of the treatment is over 96% (If you can call erasing someone’s personality a success). I hope it doesn’t take that long, for both our sakes.
Today, instead of the usual naked tickle session, I was ordered to take B255 to a different room down in the lower levels of the facility, just before the mine itself. The poor guy was fidgeting the whole way. Obviously, he could tell things were about to get rough… He asked me “Where are we going?” to which I replied “The lower levels”. I didn’t have the heart to tell him any more than that.
When we arrived, he immediately questioned me about the large sensory deprivation tank in the middle of the room. I told him the truth, that he was going to spend eight hours per day, every day from now, in that tank. Predictably, he freaked out and I had to activate his control collar to stop him from cracking my beak in half. I’d really rather not use it, but he left me no choice. The collar only hijacks his motor functions so he’s still in there. I try not to think about it, but it must feel awful being trapped in your own body like that. It was only for a couple minutes, though, just so I could prep him and put him in the tank.
I made him take off his clothes and stand still while I cuffed his wrists and ankles together and slipped a black skin-tight rubber hood over his head, to which I connected an air hose. Then I helped him lie down on the tank before I sealed it shut. I should mention the door is transparent so I could still see him, though he couldn’t see (or hear) me. From that point on, the Warden took over and started filling the tank with water. When it was full, I disabled the control collar and sat back as the session started.
He started twisting and turning like he was being electrocuted, which wasn’t too far from the truth. A small current was being passed through the water in tank so that every bit of him got a nice, intense tickle. Supposedly, this will make him a lot more sensitive over time. Makes his nerve endings more receptive or something like that. I don’t know, I tuned out halfway through the Warden’s explanation. All I know is that it tickled like hell. The tank was soundproof but I could tell he was screaming his head off. The current didn’t stay constant, either, it jumped between short bursts of high intensity tickles and softer, prolonged periods of moderate stimulation.
Oh, and he also got a boner. Yeah, they’re mixing aphrodisiac into his air mix. Don’t ask me why.
I mean, I know why. The Warden told me why. But I don’t wanna think about it.
He passed out sometime after hour three. Had a pair of drones carry him back to his cell.
I’m going to sleep.
50/90 P.T.
B255 was better-behaved today. He’s obviously pissed about all this, but I think he understands that there really isn’t much he can do about it other than to comply.
This time he made it to four hours and twenty-eight minutes on the tank.
56/90 P.T.
Hi.
I haven’t written here for almost a week, but that’s because not much has changed. My days mostly consist of waking up, showering, having breakfast, watching a naked, overweight shark get tickled inside a sensory deprivation tank, having lunch, more shark-watching, and then dinner and bedtime.
This wasn’t in the contract.
At least B255’s talking to me again. I actually got him to tell me a bit about himself… He has a kid, about the same age as my nephew, as it turns out. Says he hasn’t talked to him in years, and clammed up when I asked about the kid’s mother. I did wonder if he was making that up to try and gain my sympathy but nope, a quick look over his file corroborates his story. His kid lives on Neo-Terra with his grandparents and his ex-wife remarried.
Also had a look at his criminal history (which I realize I probably should’ve done sooner). Seems like he robbed a warehouse with three other people. Things went south when the police arrived, and they cracked under pressure, killed a pair of hostages and got themselves shot dead by the cops, all of them except B255. Wild stuff.
He spent just under a decade at a regular prison before he killed his cellmate and then they sent him here to undergo depersonification. I wonder what they’ll do with him after that… I’ve searched the records for the whereabouts of the last prisoners who went through the procedure but I can’t find anything. They probably change their names or something – if they’re nice enough to even let them have names, that is.
It’s weird. He doesn’t strike me as a murderer. Sure, he’s rude, vulgar, and about as pretty to look at as my grandma’s cloaca, but he doesn’t seem like a murderer to me. In different circumstances, maybe we could’ve been friends. Or, at the very least, drinking buddies.
59/90 P.T.
B255 didn’t go to the tank today. Instead, I was ordered to take him to the examination room again this morning, where the Warden probed him all over to measure the results of the tank treatment. And holy shit, did it work. He was begging for it to stop. Yes, begging . And when the Warden used a tiny little brush between his toes? He went bonkers. Probably didn’t help that I tied back his toes so he couldn’t curl them. Did I mention they’re as big as half my fist? I have pretty small hands, but still, his feet are huge. Okay, enough foot talk.
So yeah, the treatment worked, and his time in the tank has been reduced from eight to only four hours every day. Of course this doesn’t mean he gets to rest, the Warden’s got other plans for him.
Now here’s the nasty part: before leaving the examination room, I had to put a chastity cage on him. Apparently, he jerks off every night in his cell, and the Warden doesn’t like that. I mean, I get it, if I spent eight hours a day tied up, tickled, and breathing aphrodisiac, I’d wanna rub one off too.
No, I don’t have a fetish.
He spent the afternoon in his cell, getting used to the cage. And I spent mine catching up on a TV show and wincing every time a tickle scene came on, which only happened once but was still kind of awkward. My mind is tainted for life.
60/90 P.T.
Today was rough. For Brooks, I mean, not for me. And yeah, I’m calling him Brooks again, if only in this journal. He’s the one getting depersonified, not me, so why should I have to call him by his number outside of speaking with the Warden?
After he spent the morning in the tank, that piece of shit AI had me take him to yet another torture room. This place has more of those that it has prisoners! I strapped him to a recliner and took off the chastity cage. He actually seemed a little happy, even asked me if he was gonna cum. I shrugged, but I should’ve just told him no. What’s the point of giving him false hope?
A feather roller came down from under the footrest and started tickling his soles until he was hard, then an articulated arm with a cock sleeve started jerking him off, only to stop short of letting him cum. Then he got his feet tickled again. Can you see where this is going? Yup, its edging his brains out. Worst part is, he was begging *me * to stop. Me, specifically. And I just sat there and watched, as he called my name and screamed “Turn it off! Please, turn it off!” over and over again. And I didn’t do jack shit, like a good little prison guard.
He apologized the whole way while was taking him back to his cell. Fucking hell…
63/90 P.T.
One of the other guards got caught smuggling letters out of the colony for a prisoner. He was fired.
67/90 P.T.
They had pizza at the mess hall, today.
75/90 P.T.
Brooks told me-
80/90 P.T.
Alright. I need to sit down and sort out my thoughts.
I think Brooks realized that I’m the last friendly face he’ll see before they flush out his personality because he’s been opening up more and more lately, and each time my heart breaks a little. That robbery where the hostages got killed? He did it to pay off some loan sharks that threatened to hurt his kid if he didn’t. And guess what? He wasn’t even the one who killed the hostages. His partners did, the ones the police shot dead. But they still charged him with homicide anyway. He did kill his cellmate, but says he attacked first.
He talked a bit about how it feels inside the sensory deprivation tank, floating weightlessly in the water without any external stimuli other than tickling and arousal. The tank tickles him everywhere, even in spots he didn’t know were ticklish but he especially hates how it feels on his feet and belly. He said it’s as if days go by every time he goes in, and that every second is worse than the last. Just thinking about it makes me sick… At this point, I’m starting to think that an old-fashioned lobotomy would be more humane than this.
But let’s not kid ourselves, this is all bullshit. “Treatment”? “Depersonification”? Bull. Shit. Torture – that’s what this is.
He keeps begging me to take off his chastity cage and let him cum, trying to convince me with promises of good behavior and even sexual favors, usually after the edging sessions. He’s always a broken mess after those… Speaking of, the Warden has been getting “experimental”, for lack of a better word. He’s using more and more stuff on Brooks to edge him out of his mind. Vibrating cock rings, electric sleeves, sounding rods, feathers, dildos… That sort of stuff (writing this makes me feel like a pervert). When did institutionalized robot rape become a thing?
I had to use his control collar again once, when he freaked out on the way to an edging session and almost ran off. As punishment, the Warden made him spend the night inside the tank with a higher current. I’m not going to describe what he looked like the morning after, for the sake of my own mental health.
A couple days ago, before the sensory deprivation tank and the edging sessions, I gave him a foot massage. Last night I tried doing the same, but I can’t touch Brooks’ feet without him nearly kicking my beak in. He’s just way too sensitive for a massage, now. Yet another nicety he’ll never have the luxury of experiencing again in his life, on account of this so called “treatment”.
This whole thing is fucked up, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t quit this early in the contract, not without owing a shit ton of money to SecuGal. And besides, they’d just replace me with someone else who might not be as nice to Brooks and that wouldn’t sit right with me.
83/90 P.T.
The first stages are complete. Brooks is about as ticklish – and horny – as he physically can be. Starting tomorrow, the Warden will try to break him.
84/90 P.T.
He’s in the edging room as I’m writing this – has been since early morning and will stay there for the next three days, strapped to that chair with a life-support system keeping him awake enough to feel all the horrible things the Warden’s doing to him. For the first time, I was ordered to leave the room, but I still have access to the video feed so I’ve been watching him all day.
It started out as a pretty normal edging session, only this time he actually got to cum… Like, a lot. Seriously, the Warden wouldn’t stop making him cum, he was getting milked like a cow. Wouldn’t stop tickling him either. Aside from the roller on his feet, there were these car-buffer type things going over his belly and a couple of smaller brushes tickling him everywhere else. The life-support system kept him from passing out, so he had no choice but to endure it. I had to look away whenever the Warden polished his dick tip with a brush post-orgasm. No one deserves that sort of punishment…
After exactly five hours (!) of this, it shut off every tickler aside from the foot roller and started asking him questions again, the same ones it did in the first few days of his treatment. “What’s your name?”, “What’s your homeworld?”. Those types of questions. He gave the right answers to the first few, those being “B255” and “nowhere”, but then the questions started getting more… personal. It started showing him a bunch of pictures, mostly of places and people Brooks presumably knew, and asked them about them. Brooks managed to answer correctly to those too, mostly with variations of “I don’t know” or “I can’t remember”.
Up until that point, it looked like it everything was going smoothly (relatively speaking, of course) but then it showed him a picture of a shark woman in a wedding dress with another man. Brooks’ ex-wife. “What does she mean to you?” the Warden asked. I could tell he was pissed, but he managed to contain himself well enough and answered “Nothing.”
Then it showed him a picture of a young, chubby shark, late teens or early twenties, who looked just like him. His son.
It asked him that same question, in the same monotonous, synthetic voice. “What does he mean to you?” Brooks couldn’t bring himself give it the answer it wanted so the tickle torture continued. I turned off the feed and cried my eyes out for the next half hour. Shit, I’m tearing up again just from writing this. I need some sleep.
85/90 P.T.
Today was mostly the same. There’s not actually a lot for me to do while Brooks is down there getting his psyche massacred into non-existence. He can’t really cum anymore so he’s shooting blanks. Bet that chastity cage looks really good to him, right now. His skin has got this red hue all over, like it’s been scrubbed raw from all the tickling. I asked the Warden if I could go down there and apply some moisturizer, at the very least, but he denied my request, stating that contact with other organics was strictly forbidden during the session. Heartless piece of shit.
At various points, it slowed down and asked those same questions all over again, showing the same pictures. Brooks always broke when he saw his son’s face. That’s got to be a recent picture, judging from his looks. He told me before that he hasn’t seen the kid since his early teens, so it must be heartbreaking to see a recent picture of him under these circumstances. I can’t even begin to imagine how he feels.
Fuck this place.
86/90 P.T.
Brooks is resting in his cell, with his chastity cage back on. He looks like shit.
Today was the roughest day of all. The Warden gave him a shot of something called Oversense (read: chemical that amplifies your senses to the point where smelling a rose will make you throw up) and hit all of his worst spots at the same time. Didn’t even turn off everything except the foot roller when it asked the questions, like it did before, meaning he had to scream the answers while laughing and bawling and being forced to orgasm over and over again. It finally got him to say his son meant nothing to him… A bunch of times.
When the session was over, I went down there with a drone to pick him up. He couldn’t walk. Me and the drone had to haul him to his cell. He didn’t make a sound the whole way. But when we got there, he clung to me and cried. The drone was going to pry him off my feathers but I told it to stop and we kind of just stayed there. I did a great job at holding back my own tears until he whispered “Kill me.” Then I shoved him in his cell and ran off.
I can’t do this anymore.
The session report is in my inbox, I still haven’t found the courage to read it. Maybe tomorrow.
87/90 P.T.
It’s still not satisfied. Un-fucking-believable. What else does it want?! It already got Brooks to renounce every thing, place and person that ever meant anything to him. Seriously, what the fuck does that AI even want at this point?!
I read the report. It says Brooks still hasn’t gotten to the desired level of emotional numbness. It’s putting him back on tank treatment and edging sessions for a WHOLE MONTH. What’s more, it’s adding “control-collar assisted hypnotherapy” to the mix. More freaky mind control shit.
Fuck the Warden. Fuck this place. And fuck this fucked up treatment bullshit.
88/90 P.T.
Remember that guard that got caught smuggling letters out of here for an inmate? The one who got fired? I found his spare ID and got access to the latest records from prisoners who went depersonification in the past so I finally know what happens when someone “fails” the procedure.
They fucking kill them.
I shit you not, they tickle them to death. I found a video-transcript of them doing just that to a tiger prisoner numbered L49 (I couldn’t find his name anywhere on the file). They strapped him down, gave him a shot of Oversense and just tickled the shit out of him until he kicked the bucket.
I’m freaking out over here. If this gets out, at best I’ll be fired, and at worst I… don’t wanna think about it. But I can’t just do nothing either! One thing is for sure. I’m not letting them do to Brooks what they did to that tiger.
90/90 P.T.
There are no ships stationed at the colony, but we get weekly shipments of supplies and personnel. If I can sneak aboard one of those transports and take Brooks with me, we can make it out of here. The nearest spaceport from here is on Plavarossa Space Station, so I assume that’s where they’re going. Even if I’m wrong, any place is better than this.
Brooks started hypnotherapy yesterday, and when we talked afterwards he was… oddly cheery? He couldn’t remember basic facts about his life or even exactly why he was here, but he seemed uncharacteristically happy. I’ve got to hurry…
He did remember my name, though.
The next supply shipment arrives tomorrow. I’m going to gather my things and prepare.
On the off-chance that someone reads this, and if the journal ends here, let it be known that I hate this fucking rock and nothing would make me happier than to vaporize it with a destroyer-class gamma ray satellite cannon.
92/90 P.T.
We’re alive.
The transport arrived at Cravena in the middle of the night, I woke up Brooks and led him to the docking bay. We squeezed together between the tightly packed cargo and managed to leave without setting off any alarms. I’ll never forget the look on his face as I took off his control collar and he realized I was getting him out of that place. He said he’d pay me back one day. Ha! What an idiot. He got in trouble with loan sharks in the past, and now he wants to owe *me * money. We found some civilian clothes on the transport and changed into those. They’re a bit small for Brooks but he’ll have to make do for now.
Just as I expected, we docked on Plavarossa Space Station, but police were looking for us there, so we had to bail fast. We found someone willing to take us to Neo-Terra and keep quiet about it. Charged us an arm and a leg but it was worth it.
I’m currently writing this from a hotel room in Cilia City. Brooks is still sleeping. I don’t really know what to do with him. I can’t contact his family – too risky. And he’s still recovering from the torture. For now, I think I’ll let him tag along. Guess we’ll be drinking buddies after all.
I’ll try to give him a massage again when he wakes up, to get him used to non-tickling touches, and I’ll swing by a pharmacy later and see if they have anything to help reduce his skin sensitivity. Seriously, he can’t walk barefoot on a carpet without giggling like an idiot. We should probably do something about the prisoner number tattooed on his chest too.
Still haven’t decided what our next move is, but we can’t stay in this place for long. I need to find out more about Cravena, as much as I want to forget all about it. What they’re doing to prisoners there is beyond inhumane. I need to contact someone I trust and pass on what I know, in case something happens to me.
I realize that, regardless of what I might uncover about that place, I’ve already stained my criminal record by helping Brooks escape, and my best bet at avoiding jail time is to get pardoned, which is pretty unlikely. But I don’t care. I’ll happily rot in a prison cell for the rest of my life if it means stopping this madness… Unless they send me to Cravena.
Brooks is waking up. Time for his massage. Let’s hope I don’t tickle him to death…