“You now have one minute to complete your personal needs,” the annoying face on the screen relayed with a smile.
“Seriously, can I please have some …” Before Kadamba could finish his request, a blast of water hit him squarely where he needed to be cleaned. “Thanks. I guess. I didn’t realize it would do that.”
Kadamba slid to the floor as the toilet dematerialized back into the wall. He curled up in a ball. This was the most terrible thing that had ever happened to him, and it all happened so fast. As he began to think of what had transpired that day, he realized that he didn’t know if it was still the same day. Was it day or night? Or had he been out for days, weeks, or months? He began to sob as he curled himself up tighter and tighter.
The woman on the screen smiled again. “You will now be sanitized for your initial conference with your Purostinov Justice Processing Center Representative. Please lie face down on the floor with your hands spread above your head and your legs spread wide.”
Kadamba barely heard the perky-sounding voice. He wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to go away. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could and demanded that he wake up. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t really be happening. He felt the current hit him again, and his muscles contracted even more tightly than before; his back and legs began to quake from the contraction. Then it was gone.
“Please lie face down on the floor with your hands spread above your head and your legs spread wide,” the voice demanded.
Kadamba rolled himself out, complying with the overly pleasant voice’s order. He suddenly felt bands wrap around his wrists and ankles, lifting him into the air. He opened his eyes in pain, only to realize that the wide-eyed weirdo in the box next to his was staring right at him. With utter disgust, he realized that the man was now naked, sitting cross-legged, and masturbating as he gleefully watched what was happening to Kadamba.
A humming noise began to grow louder as the air pressure in the room changed. Kadamba slammed his eyes shut as a liquid spray hit him from every direction. It felt like a million tiny high-pressure streams coming at him and moving in random patterns. It shot into his ears and nose, causing him to cough, which, in turn, allowed the astringent-tasting liquid to spray into his mouth. One at a time, the bands would disappear, dropping him to hang by three limbs, rather than all four. The liquid stung every place that it touched, not just from the pressure, but also from whatever it was. Even his mouth, throat, and lungs burned. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire when the torture stopped.
The humming noise began ramping back up. He slammed his eyes shut, as the spray hit him again. This time it was only water. It stung, but it was washing the burning sensation away. He breathed in and even tried swallowing some of the mist in the room. As the water stopped, he realized that he felt warm and decided that it would have been worse if the water had been cold. The air began to move swiftly around him, and he guessed that he was now being dried. He wished he hadn’t, but he looked over at the weirdo again, just in time to see the man paint his own ankles while wearing a sickeningly satisfied look on his face.
When the bands vaporized, Kadamba crashed into the floor.
