![Prison_logo_color_enso_edit.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmXaZ9eYFSReagaSmdS9WzzzQRS4JF9SZZAvg176hbMe9K/Prison_logo_color_enso_edit.png)
(Logo for the Prison Meditation Project)

I'm posting up the chapters of this uncompleted book as I hope the Steemit community might offer up its criticism (which would, in turn, force me to finish it, honestly). Started in 2008, this was my first foray into novel writing and was my undergraduate thesis required to graduate. The story is about an executioner in the not-too-distant future. Executioners are highly trained individuals with extensive educations built to help them execute their prisoners in the exact same manner that the prisoner's victims died. This is called the law of retaliation or _lex talionis_; you may know it better as "eye for an eye."

Because I was also getting my degree in philosophy, I wanted to explore the ethics involved. While I feel I'm a better writer now and could certainly expand most of this book, I also really enjoy criticism as I'm usually too close to the work to see what's working and what's not (though in this case, there's plenty that I feel is not working). So please...feel free to criticize the work if you'd like, but be constructive about it. Simply saying "this part isn't good" doesn't tell me much; don't hesitate to tell me why it's not good or offer up possible alternatives to make it better.

Thanks in advance!

***

Previous Sections/Chapters:

_Part I_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-1) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/tgjcj-the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-6) / 
[Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-9) / [Ten](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-10) / [Eleven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-11) / [Twelve](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-12) / 
[Thirteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-13) / [Fourteen](https://steemit.com/writing/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-14) / [Fifteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-15) / [Sixteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-16-the-end-of-part-i)

_Part II_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-11) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-6) / [Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-9)

***

There is a method to the breathing, a cleansing motion of letting in and letting go. We find this with mothers during childbirth as well, but it’s not out of the ordinary for the general public to believe in controlled exhalations during that stress. Yet, ask someone to meditate with you and they look at you funny. We are a funny people, humans. Always too forward-thinking instead of now-thinking, so we stumble and trip all over ourselves because we forget to stop looking at the stars for a moment to make sure our path on the ground is clear. 
	
I read in a scientific journal once that, despite the metaphysical adjustments to one’s mentality, meditation helps put the body back into a solid state of health. While one may feel like they are constantly taking in more air than necessary, actual oxygen consumption is significantly reduced. This simultaneously lowers blood pressure, raises serotonin levels in the brain, and slows the heart rate. I see these guys down here, amped up with no way to expend their energy, and they really miss the point. Constant mood swings and a grimace worn in place of a grin are the byproducts of not paying attention to the body’s natural physiology. I never smoked and I don’t plan to, regardless of how soon my time comes, but it was nice to see Panzer’s habit diminish over the weeks that he meditated with me. 
	
I wouldn’t call Panzer a stressed out individual, but he definitely had a kind of superman complex. He felt a need to help pretty much everyone he met and in this way, he was admirable. It’s a trait too few are blessed with and too many without, but it takes a person of immeasurable emotional stability to be effective. Despite the weeks of meditation, Panzer appeared to be running himself ragged and even fell asleep during one session because of it. You really can’t get angry at a guy that’s just trying to do as much good as possible with the little he has to work with. An outstretched hand down here could be misinterpreted as suspicious rather than well-intentioned and most often was the former. 

With Panzer’s size, he didn’t really have to worry about being taken the wrong way. Add to that our lunch crew, specifically Big Jim’s connections topside, and people left us alone because they knew we liked to keep to ourselves. With only 200 people down here, a large group could wreak havoc but we enjoyed being the unstable variable. We didn’t peddle in whatever smuggling was going on between the few dicey guards and the inmates and we weren’t interested in breaking out. Primarily though, people thought we were snitches but couldn’t prove it since we never talked to anyone. 

It was amusing to us when someone new joined the mass of guilty bodies. Whether an NV or someone up for future Segregation, they came into the lunch room with a scowl and false confidence, hoping to keep the sharks away long enough to get a bead on a protective group to join. This almost always happened shortly after one of the general population disappeared and it was usually within a week. It took this guy a month to show up and everyone noticed him. 

They had let him keep his jet black Mohawk. It wasn’t tall, but tall enough to be visible across the hall. Riddle tapped my shoulder as we ate and motioned towards the door as the newbie strutted towards the buffet line. “H-h-h-he got some funny h-h-h-hair, huh?”

“Damn gutter punks,” Big Jim muttered between bites of thin lasagna. You’d think they could afford a damn decent haircut and a shower with how they get paid for their grunt work.”

I turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He laid his fork down and wiped his mouth. “Sauza used to hire those guys for jobs all over the city. Mostly spots where we wanted things made to look like simple break-ins and robberies. ‘Accidents,’ you see, the appearance of random violence. These kids charged a lot of money, but Sauza hired them because they were effective. They only cared about money and violence and as long as they were getting paid, they’d take a six-month rap or a probationary charge. Complete nihilists. Complete assholes, too. Sauza never met with them personally of course, but I had a few run-ins on occasion. Greedy fucks.” He went back to eating and said nothing else until the newbie strolled through the tables looking for a place to sit. His eyes were hawk-like, as if a seat at lunch were secondary. He took one look at me, smirked, and then saw Jim. 

He walked over casually, placed his tray on the table and sat down across from Jim. Jilette shot a glance at me and I shook my head imperceptibly, hoping he’d keep his mouth shut. 

“Don says hello,” the kid spat out through bites of bread, not even looking at Jim. 

“’Sat right? And who the fuck are you to bring me a message from the Don?” Jim replied in an almost whisper, pushing his tray to the side. 

He couldn’t have been more than 22, maybe 23, but the kid had a face that was rock hard and a body mass Panzer might’ve had trouble against. There were faint tattoos on each side of the Mohawk and I could see some kind of stitching around the base of the hair like it was a patch instead of real hair. But sewn onto the skull? I’d never seen that before and I made a mental note to ask about it later. 

The kid looked up, swallowed hard and grinned at Jim. “I’m the guy he knew could get he job done without crackin,’ that’s who.” He tore off a piece of bread and wiped it in the tomato sauce and tossed it in his mouth without taking his eyes off Jim. 

Jim sat still for a second, thinking. Finally he nodded. “Not here though. After lunch.”

Riddle leaned over the table and looked down towards the two men. “Y-y-y-you got some real f-f-f-funny hair, kid.” 

Jilette shushed him as I kept looking at the two, first Jim, then the newbie, trying to figure out what was happening. 

“Yeah. I get that a lot,” he muttered half to himself and digging into his tray. “Does all the food here suck?”

***

Riddle disappeared after lunch, damn near scampering to his cell as quickly as possible. Panzer and Jilette followed me to mine after we watched the newbie and Jim walk off to the common room. I leaned against the wall while Jilette splayed out on my bed, reclining against the back wall. Panzer, per usual, stood sentry in the doorway and looked troubled. 
	
“What do you think they’re talking about?” he finally asked after a long silence. 
	
I crossed my arms and rested my chin in one hand. “No idea, pal. I was never involved with the mob when I was topside. Everything I know about that part of the criminal world came from bad movies, not from experience.”
	
“I had a run in with the mob once,” Jilette interjected. “One of the houses I had cased ended up being a minor player’s place, I found out later. I thought I had gotten away clean through the back door when he appeared out of nowhere in the backyard. My hands were full and he had a gun to my temple. Basically told me that it wouldn’t be beneficial for either of us if the cops had to come out so late, but that it would be in my best interest to walk back into the house, drop everything I had taken on the kitchen counter and walk out the front door without a word, as if I’d just been leaving a friend’s house.” His eyes went glassy as he retold the story, absently toying with my sheet as he talked. 
	
“I had run-ins before with homeowners, but that one scared the shit out of me. The gun was black as midnight and if the moon hadn’t been out, I never would’ve seen the tiny glare on it. I walked back to the house and turned around and the backyard was empty. Dude just vanished.”
	
I noticed Panzer kept looking down the hallway every so often as Jilette spoke, maybe waiting to see Jim come around the corner. 
	
“Anyway, I dropped the loot on the counter, walked out the front door and heard the door lock behind me. I hadn’t even seen anyone else in the house. I bolted as fast as I could and never looked back.” 
	
Panzer had stopped paying attention and was now standing half in the cell and half out. “What’s going on, Panzer?” I asked. “What are you staring at?”
	
Two guards have posted up at the end of the hallway fork at the caf,” he whispered, confused. He turned around and the look on his face changed, morphed. “Two more at the other end. This can’t be good.”
	
“You guys should go back to your cells,” I said quickly. “If something’s going on, it’s best that you two get to where you should be.” Hearing the seriousness in my voice, both men jumped up and headed to their cells on the other side. I watched as both men were allowed past the guards near the caf. I sat on my bunk, waiting for a spark of something to ignite and a half hour later, three guards and a priest surrounded my cell. 
	
“Please stand up,” one guard said. He was tightlipped and his closely-cropped haircut had beaded up with sweat. I stood and waited as the other two guards came into the cell and stood behind me. The priest walked in and I was momentarily remind of my uncle. He had a pleasant face and wore black robes that barely covered his feet. He carried a black bible with gold gilding along the edges and motioned for me to sit on the bed with him. 
	
“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked. 
	
I had prepared for this, but being in the moment changed things considerably. I could feel my neck getting warm as my underarms moistened quickly. “I think so. Am I being Segregated?” I asked uneasily. 
	
He smiled and patted my arm. “Yes. They have determined that it is time for you to be taken out of the general populace and placed within your own cell away from others. Do you understand what this means for you?” He had a warm smile and I could see why they sent him. He wasn’t silver-tongued, but genuinely concerned for my mental well being at this news dropping. 
	
“I think so, but all I hear are the rumors. I’m assuming it’s probably much worse than what I hear though,” I replied, hearing my voice waver ever so slightly. I could feel my hands trembling as they rested between my knees. So this is what real fear feels like. This is what it’s like looking over the precipice of what one’s life has been and seeing what’s really to come. This is my complete secession from the human race. I knew this was coming, so why was I so afraid?

So after nearly twenty years of residing below ground, I wondered what the gossip at lunch that day would be when I was hauled out of my cell and escorted to a new one somewhere deeper within the catacombs of the prison I called home for so long. The next cell was just a pit stop between here and the forever that lay on the other side and I would be there for the next twelve months. After nearly twenty years, finality had knocked on my door and said hello, waiting for me to respond.