Chapter 16 The Book

Esmeralda Women’s Penitentiary, Arizona, 2045 

Nelsa Floratunia was delivered to Esmeralda the day Axandra Woolencroft went into solitary. She had already been in jail for months waiting for trial without her books, her mind starved for art. Simone watched her on screen trying to decide if this twig of a woman was an angel or a witch. A D-guard escorted Nelsa to Simone’s office where she took a seat with her hands folded in her lap and her ankles crossed. Simone gave the welcome speech and the microchip speech. Afterward, when she took a hold of Nelsa’s forearm to inject her microchip, Simone noticed the bird like weightlessness. 

A bemused Nelsa stared at the injection. “I hope it’s friendly.”

Simone was reviewing the intake form. “How old are you?”

“I don’t know.” 

“According to the court record you’re eighty-eight.”

Nelsa was silent.

“I’m the Hygiene Officer. Do you have any health concerns I should know about?” 

“No.”

“Any mental health issues?”

Nelsa shook her head.

Simone scanned the information before her. “According to the sentencing affidavit you were accused of stealing 1,832 books.”

“Art books,” Nelsa corrected.

“Worth over a million dollars.”

Nelsa shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Nelsa, do you have any mental health issues I should know about?”

“I need books.”

“There are no books here. Esmeralda is a completely automated incarceration facility with all communications passing through our IT systems. Books here are on screens. Everything in Esmeralda is digital except the food.”

“I don’t believe in digital.”

Simone appreciated the humor. “Neither do I, but it’s how we operate.”

Nelsa looked around the room. “Where is the library?”

“There is a digital content library that you access through your screen.” Simone turned to the D-guard. “Take her away.”

The D-guard opened the office door and waited for Nelsa to follow. Nelsa looked at the D-guard and back at Simone.

“Yes, he has eyes in the back of his head,” Simone said. “All the robots can see 360.”

As she followed the robot down the corridor, Nelsa recollected the paintings of Jean-Michel Basquiat and imagined herself straddling the skeleton in Riding with Death. The plastic shoes hurt her feet.

When they arrived at her cell, the D-guard pivoted to leave.

“Thank you,” Nelsa said to the robot.

“You are welcome,” the D-guard replied. 

Melchora’s head jerked around at the sound of the robot’s voice.

“Holy fucking shit,” Heidi said. “Who knew?” Then she looked skeptically at Nelsa. “So, what’s the point of putting you in prison? You’re already dead.”

“Shut-up, Heidi.” Melchora gave Nelsa the once over. “Pay no attention to her, Grandma. She is low life. This is your bed.” Mel pointed to the accommodations like an airline stewardess demonstrating a seatbelt. “It used to be Martha’s bed. And this is your desk. It’s like a computer except you can’t get out of here. They give us games and shows, but everything goes through the sanitizer. We don’t get the internet.”

Nelsa looked at Melchora impassively.

“That bed is Ax.” Mel pointed. “She’s taking time out in solitary.”

Nelsa sat down on her bed and remained there for the rest of the day. When Mary rolled down the hallway, she heard her name and obediently took her tray, but she did not eat or drink.

The next morning Melchora called Simone. “I think she’s dead.” 

Simone watched Mel’s pretty face on the screen as they talked. “Your hair is getting long again.”

Mel absentmindedly pulled her hair to the side and began to braid. She appreciated the attention. “I like it long.”

“Me, too. Why do you think Ms. Floratunia is dead?”

“She isn’t breathing.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Simone knew Nelsa wasn’t dead, but she had a strange attraction to the crone. She was older than Simone’s mother, way too old to be in prison. Simone felt the same rules didn’t apply to someone that old. After reading her entire record, she admired Nelsa’s commitment to her cause. She seemed to have a mission she believed in. Simone was jealous of that.

So, Simone went to Nelsa’s cell, took her pulse and checked her blood pressure, two stats her microchip reported every minute of the day. But still, Simone said, “I’m moving you to the infirmary.” She just wanted to be around Nelsa for a while. The vibe change was refreshing.

Without thinking too much about it, while Nelsa was hooked up to IV fluids, Simone did some online shopping. The next day her package arrived by drone. She stood beside Nelsa’s bed to help her sit up and put the book in her hands. World Art from Cave Paintings to Modern Masters. It was the biggest, cheapest art book Simone could find with next-day delivery. A drone dropped it off at the front door of the prison.

Buying the book was a surprisingly easy decision considering it violated one of the most fundamental policies of prison operations. Inmates were not allowed to have possessions. But that spark of generosity made Simone feel good. She was inspired to take the risk for Nelsa because the librarian seemed so special. It’s just a book. What harm could a book do?

Nelsa’s eyes widened as she turned the pages, scrutinizing each color picture, reading the captions and scanning the text. In minutes her color returned, she was alert and engaged. 

“You are the Mother Superior,” Nelsa said with a glimmer in her eyes. 

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am.” Simone was pleased with herself. 

“Thank you for this.”

“It’s against the rules,” Simone admitted. “But I think you can be trusted with it.”

For a day she watched Nelsa turn the pages of the art book. Her eyes penetrated the paper and she seemed to disappear in a swirl of color. Simone saw the air around her bed glitter, but she told herself it was a quirk of light. Maybe she just needed to have her eyes checked.

The inmates quieted in the aftermath of Ax being dragged down the corridor past them on her way to solitary. Everyone was waiting for clues to what came next. An eerie stillness settled over the white cells. Frank was back in her office playing darts while she monitored her screens. Terry was repairing her electrocuted Mary. And Simone was thinking ahead to returning Nelsa and Ax to their cell. 

In an off-script moment, Simone sat the two inmates side-by-side in her office for what she hoped would be a therapeutic conversation.

Nelsa sat up straight and held her new book in her lap. 

Ax crossed her leg with one ankle on the other knee and ran her hands over her freshly shaved head, scowling at Simone.

“Ax, this is your new cellmate, Nelsa Floratunia.”

Ax looked dismissively at the old lady. The book struck her as unusual.

“Nelsa, this is your new cellmate, Axandra Woolencroft.”

Nelsa nodded politely. “How do you do?”

“I suck.”

Nelsa smiled faintly and lowered her eyes. “Perhaps I do as well.”  

“I want you two to have a conversation,” Simone said. “Ax, you first. Explain to Nelsa why you’ve spent the last few days in solitary.”

After three days without food, Ax felt weak. She saw how it was easier to die than to live in Esmeralda. How did anyone here know they were alive? She had figured out the answer to that question. Pain. The beating heart of Esmeralda was pain. 

“I’ve been here five years,” she explained to Nelsa. “I was so numb I didn’t think I would ever feel anything again. So, I cut myself.”

Nelsa stroked the book in her lap and whispered, “When they took my books away from me, I lost my feelings. My heart is cut.”

Ax didn’t know what to say. Books?

“What did you learn from cutting yourself?” Simone asked Ax.

Ax blushed the color of shame all the way up her scalp. “I learned that I have choices.” 

“Tell Nelsa why you’re here.” 

She took a deep breath and realized she had never admitted her crime. In her thinking, the crime was something that had been done to her, not something she did. Saying she did it was surrendering. To herself. She was surrendering to herself. “I’m here because I was involved with a criminal, and I was an accomplice to a crime.”

Nelsa’s eyes rose like two moons and floated into Ax. “I’m here because I stole books. It was a way to keep from losing them.” 

Ax looked at Simone for confirmation and Simone nodded.

The twist in Nelsa’s story gave Ax a soft smile. “You must have stolen a lot of them.”

Nelsa’s head bobbed. “Oh, yes,” she said. “1,832 of them. They were the most beautiful books in the world.” She hugged World Art from Cave Paintings to Modern Masters in remembrance of the books she’d lost. Tears clotted her lashes. 

Ax had never seen such an adorable woman. So old. Possibly the oldest person Ax had ever met. And here she was, in prison. Something was going on here. Nelsa was more than a person. In the box, she was an event. Just being in the presence of a book felt radical. Ax didn’t fully grasp it, but she was ready to embrace it. Now that she had met Frank, she had a whole new appreciation for Simone. The book was a subversive act. And apparently, Simone was allowing it.

Simone could see the change in Ax happening right before her eyes. She wanted to throw her arms in the air and yell, “Yes!” But she didn’t. She put her hands over her mouth and let the moment settle. “You have two years together in that cell. Let’s make it mean something.”