Michael and Albert walked along the perimeter of the yard. The young man's silence was filled only by the giant's heavy footsteps.
— Albert — Michael called, keeping his eyes fixed on the guards' movements — how much time is left until lockdown?
— Exactly... —
— Attention, inmates! — the guard's voice echoed through the loudspeaker, interrupting Albert. — Recreation time is over! Return to your cells immediately in single file! Now!
The Visual Mapping:
The prisoners began marching toward the blocks. Michael subtly slowed his pace, allowing other inmates to pass him.
The reduced speed gave his eyes time to analyze the environment: the angles of the security cameras, the rotation timing of the lenses, the guards' positions on the upper walkways, and the structural flaws in the concrete wall joints. Every detail was digitized and stored in his long-term memory.
As he crossed the gate into Block C, he quickened his pace to align himself with Albert once again. Both entered Cell 47. The iron doors slammed shut with an electronic clang.
The Weight of Memories:
Michael lay down on the top bunk, staring at the rough ceiling.
— I'm going to rest for a while — he said.
On the lower bunk, Albert pulled the bundles of cash hidden beneath his uniform and carefully tucked them under the worn foam mattress. Satisfied, he lay on his back with his arms crossed beneath his head.
The silence of the cell brought back the image of Albert's deceased daughter. Her smile in the last photograph he had received before her death. A single tear rolled down from his right eye, tracing the lines of his weathered face. The silent crying soon became a steady stream. He tried to hold his breath to suppress the sound, but his chest trembled involuntarily.
The Breaking of Silence:
On the upper bunk, Michael remained awake. His ears detected the change in Albert's breathing pattern, shifting from stable to short and spasmodic.
— Albert, are you crying? — Michael asked, his voice flat.
— No... it's just the dust from the yard — the giant replied, his voice trembling.
— You don't need to lie — Michael said. — The change in your tone of voice and your breathing pattern indicates a high level of emotional stress. It must be something serious.
Albert swallowed hard, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
— It's my daughter, Michael. I lost her a few years ago. She was the most important person in my life.
— I'm sorry to hear that — Michael said after a brief pause. — That couldn't have been an easy thing to cope with.
— Thank you... — Albert sighed, turning onto his side. — What about you, Michael? What was your life like? Since birth?
The silence stretched across the cell for nearly a minute. Michael did not move.
— Please, Michael — Albert insisted. — We're trapped in here together. I just want to understand a little more about where you came from.
Michael exhaled audibly.
— It was a complex environment — he replied, staring at the ceiling. — For a long time, I calculated the probabilities and thought I would never leave that place. The first few months were difficult because of the excessive stimuli and the tests. But after some time, I conditioned my mind and adapted to it.
— What kind of place was it? — Albert asked, tilting his head to hear better.
— Forget it — Michael cut him off, ending the conversation.
Albert accepted the boundary Michael had set, closed his eyes, and silence once again settled over Cell 47.