Falling Off The Edge Of Techno

My walk of shame. Led down the passage of a prison, arms pinned down by two prison guards. I tried my best to hide the fear, but it was impossible with those nasty mask-like faces leering at me from within the cells.

We came to an abrupt halt outside the door of an empty cell. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the slightly mouldy iron bars that would cage me for two years. I feel the bile rise in my throat, I’m a cornered animal, my feet struggle, I want to run, but the two human gorillas next to me make sure I stay exactly where I am.

The door slides open with an eerie, rattling noise and a searing pain flashes through my back as I am pushed in by the guards. They slide the door shut and the key turns in the lock. “Have fun girlie….” The prison guards sneer and walk off. I’m doomed, I know it.

I retreat to what I deem to be the least filthy corner of my cell and encase my head in my hands. I try desperately not to think about it, to count sheep instead, but as usual when I’m alone, the memories resurface…

My boss or ex-boss shall I say, a seemingly nice guy for a corporate sell-out, gave me a chance two months ago, a chance for a better life, at least that’s what I thought he did.

I was a street kid and he gave me a job in his gigantic business, The Edge Of Techno, a good job as his personal secretary. I was so happy when I was told that I was, “perfect for the job”. Who’d have thought it? I’d turned up to the interview in a torn T-shirt and thongs; I didn’t think I’d have a chance.

I got the job though, and for two weeks I was perfectly happy, elevated to a state of bliss. That was when it happened. That was when my world started to fall apart.

Looking back on it now, I am steeped in regret. I think to myself, I should’ve known, I should’ve known, not to believe in the goodness of other people, not to be so trusting. I should’ve known that there’d have to be a catch.

I can still remember it vividly, I was called into his office. I knew something was wrong the moment I set foot in that room, the atmosphere was heavy with tension, I felt the weight of it hit my back.

It was then that he told me, what they’d picked me for. I was the fall-girl. The one who’d take the blame for his fraud charges, the one who’d get jail-time.

It made sense, they needed someone to take the fall and I was a street kid, I had a criminal record (I tried robbery once when I was desperate), everyone would believe their story.

I remember feeling sick, I was repulsed by the person in front of me. I took an involuntary step backwards before managing to form a sentence “I’ll fight you.”

He looked back at me and a fleeting expression of what might have been guilt, flashed across his face. Then he burst out into a cruel, high-pitched laugh, “You’ll fight me?” he questioned in a mocking tone.

“Yes,” I replied, “I’ll fight you, with everything I’ve got,” I stammered on, I was still in shock, I don’t know how I managed to be coherent but he understood.

He laughed again, “Face it honey, ‘everything you’ve got’ isn’t much,” he stared at me, eyes full of indifference, “At least not compared to what I have.”

I knew he was right, but I had to try, I couldn’t let him get away with it, “I’ll fight you,” I intoned blankly.

“I thought we’d already established that. What are you? A tape recording on repeat?” He gave me a few seconds pause to reply to this, but eventually realising that speech was beyond me, “Go on then, get out, I’ll see you in court, for this so called fight.”

Still numb I left his office, grabbed my stuff and headed straight out the door to the nearest police station. I didn’t have the money for a lawyer, those criminal investigations shows had better have been right when they said that when you are unable to provide your own lawyer the state provides one for you….

The crime shows were right; the state does provide you with a lawyer. A young and inexperienced lawyer. A lawyer who is no match for those of a corporate chief, a lawyer who wouldn’t even have been able to win if half the jury hadn’t been bribed.

I sit in the dank cell and try to think what possible grain of good can be drawn from this experience, what moral can be found. However I only find things that I know sound stupid in the end the best I can come up with is ‘never trust a corporate sell-out.’