I had visited many, talked with inmates in them, supervised them to make sure they were correctly kitted out. But I had never dreamed that I would actually be held in one. It was very small. The bunk was just too short and too hard to be comfortable. The blanket was a tiny bit shorter and thinner than would have been adequate, and the pillow little more than a cardboard cut-out of one. Everything in the cell lacked colour. Each object, if you picked it up and examined it, had a colour. Just about. But put together it achieved little more than a nullity. The only thing of any colour was my orange uniform. And even then, the shade was somehow dirty and insipid. It merely served to mark me out as guilty. And I felt guilty. * We stood watching Level 7 explode. It took a long time. Someone cried out in shock. Later, watching the recordings, I realised it was me – the first voice on the recordings … Actually, here it is: Bentley: Governor. ME: Yes? Bentley: Gov – Sorry – Governor. Sir.
What do You think about Doctor Who: The Blood Cell?
