So Far: As a young girl, Meredith Bridges turned her father, Hugh, in to the government because he wanted to leave his wife, her mother. Meredith’s choice strained relations with her mother and brother, Manuel. Her father was eventually sentenced to life in San Francisco, the prison city, and Meredith decided to have nothing to do with him. However, now Manuel has disappeared and, in desperate to find him, Meredith has decided to meet her father face to face.

In San Francisco now, every street is named Elm and every house is numbered 2. The streets are laid out in such a way that they create a very nearly symmetrical grid, despite the hills. Every house in the residential area is a raised ranch. Some are made out of the ruins of the old buildings, flattened in 2010.

It is surrounded by a guarded wall and the micro-snipers rarely miss, though sometimes they shoot for no reason that the programers can determine. The occasional accidental electronic shooting is the price you pay for a secure detention facility.

Of course, there was the time that a couple of Elm Streets were obliterated in a blitzkrieg of bullets, but those kinks have probable been worked out by now. The few human guards received hazard pay any time they have to set foot into the city.

Jorge was going to receive his hazard pay. He was escorting young, beautiful Miss Bridges to meet her father at Number 2, Elm Street.

“This one,” said the electronic I. D. system, “is marked suspicious.”

Not a problem, really, since, everyone was marked suspicious. At least she wasn’t labeled, “very suspicious” or, worse, “Extremely suspicious.” Jorge would have been filling out paperwork all afternoon!

No, Jorge was much more distressed that she was marked as being “from a broken home.” She was cute, but Jorge knew better than to involve himself with a woman who turns in her own family. He certainly didn’t want to end up as a resident of San Francisco!

“Here we are,” he announced, “House SM-40026-D.”

“It says 2 on the door.”

“The official designation on the grid-map is SM-40026-D.”

Meredith rang the doorbell.

“Stand back,” said Jorge.

After a lengthy series of clicks, the door started to slide open. Jorge steadied his assault rifle, ready to riddle Hugh with bullets should he not be exactly where he was supposed to be - strapped to the visitation chair in the kitchen.

Officer Majchek opened the door and, with a “All clear, Petrov,” let Jorge stand down.

Looking at her with his heat goggles, Majchek intoned, “Meredith Bridges?”

“Yes?”

“The San Francisco Department of Corrections cannot be held responsible for any damage - internal, external, spiritual or psychological - you or your father receive as a result of your interview. Say 1 if you understand this.”

“1.”

“Hugh Patrick Bridges is a known sexual offender, guilty of trying to leave his marriage. There is no telling what sorts of things he may try to say or do and, by entering this facility, you recognize that he may say or do things that are immoral and illegal. Say 1 if you understand this.”

“1.”

“Proceeded to the dining room.”

Followed closely by Jorge, Meredith followed the sign that read “dining room” to a cramped little room, 9 feet by 9 feet, with a glass window. Through the window, strapped into a wire covered metal chair, sat her father. He looked older than she remembered, of course, but also a lot paler and thinner. The headpiece to the chair held his eyes open and, every few second, a mist of water was sprayed at his eyes to keep them moist.

“Did you bring any coins?”

“I beg your pardon,” asked Meredith.

“For the torment machine. It is coin operated. You may need to torture him to get the information you want out of him, but if you have no coins, you’re out of luck.”

“I have a roll of quarters for my laundry.”

“Then you’re in luck.”

Beneath the glass window, a metal panel with a series of knobs, dials and switches - and a coin slot. Meredith pulled up a chair to the panel. She could see her father’s lips moving but she could not hear him.

“When you’re ready, I’ll turn on the sound,” said Jorge.

“I’m ready.”

To Be Continued