The house was dark. The night was dark, moonless. A lone figure stood in the shadows, right at the back door of the house. The man waited patiently, listening intently for any sound. None he heard. Every living soul in the neighborhood was sleeping, as they should be at this hour, just before dawn.
The man deactivated the alarm and unlocked the back door with his skeleton key. Then he entered the house as silent as the night itself. He moved with confident steps in the total darkness, because he had learned the plans of the house by heart. The thief was a master at his job and he was proud of it. His career was of long years, yet his police record was still clean. They knew him well, but could not lay a finger on him. No evidences. That’s what he was most proud of. The thief never left any telltale traces. He prepared himself very carefully and thoroughly for each assignment and paid serious attention to the details.
This new job was no different from all the rest. Break into the house, locate the safe, pick its lock and retrieve the object. As simple as that. The house belonged to a wealthy businessman, well known mostly for the possession of a diamond necklace with the famous diamond “The Star of Iselda.” The whole family was away for the weekend, even the servants were given a day off. The only obstacle between the thief and the jewel was an alarm, which, although sophisticated and connected to the local police station, was no match for the abilities of the best burglar in the world.
The man climbed the stairs to the second floor and went straight for the businessman’s study. It wasn’t hard for him to navigate in the near blindness inside the house, but once he entered the room, he switched on a small flashlight. The thief looked at the pictures on the walls and moved on to the one, depicting a mother and a child on a beautiful meadow.
He took the painting off the wall, and the door of the safe revealed before his eyes. The first thing was to look for another alarm and he found one, just as he had expected. It was hidden along the left rim of the safe, going down from the door and inside the wall. The thief disarmed the alarm and started picking the lock. It took him less than a minute to open the secret compartment. He reached inside and took out the necklace. He lifted it in front of his eyes and admired the beauty of “The Star of Iselda.” Another job well done.
Then he heard the door next room creaking. But that was impossible! The house was supposed to be empty. The family had no dogs, no cats either, and besides, even if they had, the people would have taken them and wouldn’t have left them alone. Cold swear bathed the thief as he was frozen still. He listened for a moment and heard silent footsteps in the corridor. He didn’t know what to think. He thought that he hadn’t disarmed the alarm and the police were coming for him, but dismissed the idea right away. If it was really them, they weren’t going to sneak like that. Probably, it was some other burglar, maybe hired from the same people who had hired him. They might have wanted to have insurance, in case he failed, or just wanted to eliminate him after he had done the job without paying him.
In any way, the thief was paralyzed. This was happening for the first time in his life. Never had anyone tried to get rid of him. He knew many secrets, but he also knew how to keep his mouth shut. No one had had the chance to complain from him. Yet, he felt betrayed. Panic and anger were fighting inside him. He tried to put down both, because they weren’t helping him at all in his present predicament.
At last, he calmed down. During the passed few moments, the steps had drawn nearer and the unknown person was almost at the door of the study. The thief decided to surprise him. He put the necklace in his pocket and went to the door. Then he listened again. The man outside moved a step closer.
The thief threw the door open and extended the flashlight forward in an attempt to startle the intruder. Instead, he found himself blinded by the bright light in the corridor. Already feeling at a disadvantage, he blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes and see beyond the light. At the same time, he was backing away. And he heard the voice: “Police! You’re under arrest!”
His heart sank. He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but his career was over. He tried to run for the window in the study, but another blinding light was pouring through it.
“The house is surrounded,” the voice said. “You won’t get away this time.”
So, it was the police after all. And they had sneaked on him in order to catch him by surprise. The thief gave up. Police officers entered the room and handcuffed him. Then they took him away.
* * *
“Well, that was it,” the warden said, after all the journalists removed the headsets. “You have experienced the new system, which will soon be implemented in all the prisons in the country. Using the latest technologies, we are forcing the criminals to relive again and again the moment of their capture. Every night when they go to sleep they have the same nightmare, which, of course, varies for every individual, according to the nature of their crimes. And this will go on for the duration of their sentences.”
“That’s very interesting,” one man said. “What is it that you do with the killers? Make them relive their own murder every night?”
“No, no, no. I think you have got the idea wrong. As you can see from the example with the thief, we’re not doing unto them what they have done to the others. This is no ‘An eye for an eye’ thing. What they experience is the failure, the inability to fulfill the criminal act, along with the police arrest, of course.”
“But isn’t this a little bit cruel? I mean, every night, for how long, years, decades?” another man inserted.
“With the present crime rate in the country?” the warden retorted. “You tell me.”
“And if the convicted man is innocent?” the same journalist insisted. “What if we take a man who has unintentionally committed a murder for example? Years after years of nightmares, that sounds very cruel to me.”
“This is the best part. You see, we are not the judges, nor the jury, nor executioners. At least, not in the conventional sense of these words. The beauty of the whole concept is that the perpetrator judges himself. He condemns himself, if I may say so. If the man is a criminal, he likes doing the bad things that we call crimes. He enjoys them and naturally he will feel awful from the fact that he has been unable to commit the crime. His failure is his punishment, as I said. What if the man is innocent, you ask? What if he has unintentionally murdered another human being? Such man will experience the same dream, only it will not be a nightmare for him. He will feel glad that he has been prevented in some way from killing the other man. He will be happy with such ending of the story. He will still have to serve his time for what he has done, but he will not punish himself for his deeds.”
“These dreams or nightmares,” another one of the journalists said, “they are not real, right? The crime is still a fact, isn’t it? And the dreams will not change the memory of the criminal?”
“No, they won’t,” the warden replied. “We’re not talking about hypnotically induced memories here. On the morning after, the convict still knows that he has committed a crime. The purpose of our ‘dream therapy’, as we call it, is to instill the fear of failure, of being caught, in the mind of the criminal. When he is released from prison, he will think, not just twice, but many times, before committing another crime.”
“I see.”
“Are there any more questions?”
None of the journalists answered. “Thank you for coming here, gentlemen,” the warden said. The men got up and started for the door. One of them stopped and turned back.
“One last question,” he said. “The dream we experienced. It was Jimmy Swift’s, right?”
“That’s right.”
“How did they catch him? Professional curiosity, you know. After all, it had been more than, what, fifteen years, that he had been escaping the law.”
“Well, it was a trap. An informant told the police about the upcoming robbery and they set him up. The family was sent away from the city, the servants were given a day off — the ideal situation. So, Jimmy took the bait. The only problem for him was that the police officers were in the house, awaiting his arrival. And they caught him in the act.”
The End
27 October 2007 at 11:31
[...] Enjoy the story. [...]
28 October 2007 at 7:28
Sneaky sons-a-bitches! I enjoyed the story, but it is wrong on so many levels. Maybe I feel that way because I wouldn’t want to relive every night my capture for some of the things I have done in my life. I’m just glad I got away unmolested and can remember them at my leisure.
28 October 2007 at 15:43
You killed me, coffeypot!
I don’t know what you mean by saying that “it is wrong on so many levels”. I’ve been thinking about it half a day, but I still can’t understand it.
28 October 2007 at 21:37
I feel that it is wrong in that they were invading his most personal space (his mind) without his permission. They are using his fear and embarrassment in getting caught as a teaching tool or for entertainment purposes. It would not be a good teaching tool because, basically, those who commit crimes do not believe they will ever get caught, and reliving his experience wouldn’t be anymore a deterrent that going to a movie. If you are going to use something like that, let it be his last sexual experience. We could all enjoy that, and might learn something new, too.
29 October 2007 at 20:34
Hmmm, I don’t know what to say. Except, that you’re as witty as usual. But there is and there will be no descriptions of sexual experiences. Did I mention that I write sci-fi and fantasy, not romance and erotics?
Now, seriously. In the intro I deleted, I focused all on the question whether punishment should be correspondent to the crime, which was the main idea of the story. That’s why I couldn’t see what you find wrong at first. If I understand correctly, you don’t think that this kind of treatment will have the desired effect. Since I don’t want to turn this into “my way versus your way” or “you’re wrong and I’m right” kind of thing, I’ll try to explain why I think it could work. I haven’t done a study in why people become criminals, and if there are such studies I haven’t read them. This is to say that there will be no figures to support my idea, and my assumptions are entirely based on general knowledge. I think we can agree that apart from some psychopaths, most of the criminal can be considered sane. The reasons for their breaking the law are different — ranging from carelessness (like drinking and driving) to being forced by the circumstances (like growing up in a poor environment and having no other way of surviving). But I believe that all people are born “tabula rasa”-like. From then on, they grow up to be adults, shaped up mostly by the society they live in. I like to think that we’re mostly done with the barbarian ways of the past, and we bring up our children to be more civilized. We, as humans, have learned the lessons from the First and Second World Wars, and there have been no grand scale conflicts for the better part of a century. There are still local wars here and there, but I hope they, too, soon will be only a memory. I got a bit carried away here. What I was getting at was that the majority of the criminals are perfectly aware of the consequences of being caught — mainly because society has shown them that these consequences are not pleasant at all. Yes, the criminals might believe they would never get caught — this doesn’t mean that this is not only wishful thinking on their behalf.
And last, but not least — because the method of punishment seemed cruel (no entertainment purposes, I assure you) — I need to point out something that should be obvious, but is sometimes forgotten. The words and deeds of the characters do not necessarily mirror the beliefs of the author. No one can be sure if I am vengeful, or do not approve of such punishment. For all you know, my opinion could have been expressed by the question of one of the journalists: “But isn’t this a little bit cruel?” I’m not saying it is, and I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m just glad that my story provoked some kind of emotion. Maybe this means it was written well enough?
29 October 2007 at 22:58
It was written well enough. You are an excellent story teller. But, no descriptions of sexual experiences. Damn! You mean I will have to use some of my limited intellegence? Damn!