Karl was surprised when Sam Sam opened the psychologist’s cell door as if he were the warden himself, then beckoned Karl to follow.
“Is this about what we discussed yesterday?” Karl asked as Sam Sam led the way.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just going to do some laundry,” Sam Sam said, pointing up at one of the camera hubs that lined the prison’s ceiling.
Karl caught the gesture’s meaning and nodded. “How far is the laundry room?” he asked.
“It’s just down the stairs and around the corner,” Sam Sam said. “Come on.”
Karl descended with himl, avoiding the filthy handrail. As they approached the lower floor, he could smell the pleasant aroma of laundry detergent wafting up from the nearest door. He hadn’t realized how stale the normal air was in the prison until that moment.
Once the laundry room door closed behind them, Sam Sam waved his wrist over the lock, and then turned to face Karl. He rolled up his sleeve and revealed a fully functional smartwatch, which he immediately checked.
“It’s time,” he said. He looked up and saw Karl’s curious gaze upon his wrist. “One of the guards set this up for me. A digital skeleton key, at least for our purposes.”
“A guard helped you?” Karl asked.
“Yeah,” Sam Sam said with a chuckle. “As a data runner, I find myself in the possession of some sensitive information sometimes. There are a few guards here who would rather that information remain private, so they help me out when I need it—like now—and their secrets remain just that.”
“So you blackmail them?” Karl said.
Sam Sam’s face fell into amusement. “That’s right,” he said. “But if you knew the secrets I was keeping for them, you wouldn’t think of them as victims. Trust me.”
The data runner moved across the laundry room, dodging double-load machines as he made his way to a door painted to look like the walls. It wasn’t hidden, but it didn’t advertise itself as a public passageway. Sam Sam waved his wrist over where a doorknob would usually be, but didn’t push the door open.
“If you’re blackmailing guards to give you skeleton keys, why do you even need me?” Karl asked.
Sam Sam looked toward the door they entered through as though sensing someone approaching, then snapped out of it and met Karl’s eyes.
“I’ve told you already,” Sam Sam said, “I know about Maynard. That I.I. in your brain can do more for us than any guard can. He’s the missing piece to our escape.”
“But how?”
“There’s only so much of the prison that is controlled locally,” Sam Sam explained. “The locks, the work schedules, the guard shifts—those can all be worked out from here, within the big house. But there’s plenty I can get no control of within these walls. The security cameras, for example. They’re run by computers, so there’s no chance of blackmail. I’m left with only one option.”
Before Karl could reply, Sam Sam pushed open the concealed door and stepped within.
There was a moment of hesitation before the psychologist followed the data runner. He looked around for a camera bank with nervous eyes and was both surprised and relieved to find them unwatched.
“Good,” Sam Sam said from within the other room. “They’ve left us everything we need.”
As Karl entered the room, he saw the data runner moving toward two piles of clothes set up on a changing bench.
It looked like they were in a small security room that doubled as a locker room for the prison guards. Judging from the size and the lack of anyone else, this wasn’t one of the main security rooms. Karl could see that it was equipped with a monitoring station, as well as networking equipment. Karl closed the door behind himself, and it beeped before locking.
“How do you know about Maynard?” he asked once it had been silent for a minute. “The courts didn’t even know.”
Sam Sam was already changing into his new set of clothes, which was apparently a prison guard uniform. There was a second one for Karl as well, but he didn’t start changing yet.
“That’s because they didn’t care, Karl,” Sam Sam said. He seemed to be struggling with one of the shirt buttons. “They didn’t have any reason to know you were sharing your mind. It wasn’t like they’d spent months watching your lab prior to the shooting, collecting data on each of the scientists. It’s not like they had any of the records or transcripts of your research meetings.”
“But you did?” Karl interjected.
Sam Sam nodded. “That’s right,” he said.
“Why?”
“It’s my business, Karl,” Sam Sam said. “I work with implanted inmates every day—in fact, they bring in the most money—and your lab was one of the most advanced bioengineering centers in the world. It was in my best nature to research what you were up to.”
“So how is an I.I. supposed to help the situation?” Karl wanted to know.
He could feel a little resentment burn from the underpowered I.I. in his brain.
“He can take control of the camera feeds and cover our escape by making them see whatever he wants them to see.”
“And that’s supposed to work?”
“In theory, yes,” Sam Sam said. “Everything about his code is flexible and transcribable. There shouldn’t be any compatibility issues. The only problem is getting him onto the network. We can’t just turn on the wireless component of your C.C. and have him log in, for a few reasons. First, and most important, they deactivated that function when you were sentenced. We could always turn it back on, but it would require surgery, and there’s a significant risk of permanent damage. Even then, using the wireless would be instantly detected by the network’s security system. It will lock down without hesitation. Otherwise, anyone with a tablet could bring down the prison locks if they were close enough. That leaves us with manual transmission.”
“Manual?” Karl said.
Sam Sam bent over and grabbed one of the shiny metal tools
