Subverting The World [Cyber] - Chapter 10

Prisoners No. 78 and No. 99 had formed a secret alliance months earlier, their shared goal: escaping the prison. One handled the strategy; the other, the cover. From the start, they’d planned every step of their breakout—regardless of who ran the place. Even a new warden couldn’t derail them. They had contingencies for everything.

After the new authority figure arrived, prison conditions became drastically more severe.

—Though they refused to refer to her as “warden.”

They suspected the system monitored that word. Anytime someone said it, a bionic guard would show up within minutes. So, among the inmates, she was simply called “that person.”

This new “warden” cracked down on swearing. Offenders were immediately sentenced to isolation. Even solitary confinement had changed—no more pitch-black silence. Instead, prisoners were blasted with harsh lighting from 24 specialized floodlights, causing discomfort, dehydration, and in the case of prosthetic users, painful overheating at their joints.

While some prisoners protested the stricter regime, Nos. 78 and 99 adapted quickly. They observed patterns, logged preferences, and carefully reverse-engineered her reward-punishment system.

Good behavior lowered your threat level. That was key.

Two new inmates joined their cell, and soon, with some coaxing—and promises of sugar—were looped into the scheme. With improved behavior scores, they became eligible for special privileges like meal upgrades. That meant more points. More points meant more access.

Eventually, No. 99 earned a job assignment in the workshop, where he screwed parts together for mechanical devices. It was the perfect place: every material necessary for escape was within reach. But smuggling them out? Much harder. Every exit was scanned, every item x-rayed.

Luckily, they’d stashed most of their essential tools before “that person” arrived. Semi-finished components were hidden outside their cells.

The final parts had to be smuggled in the hard way—literally. No. 99 swallowed them in waterproof packaging and spent days retrieving them from the toilet afterward.

The lower curve of the toilet pipe—a U-bend—was their blind spot. Guards checked tanks, floors, ceilings, and even bedding. But they never looked into the actual curve under the toilet.

So No. 99 placed an EMP device inside it. It was small enough to hide, but powerful enough to disable electronic locks for a few crucial seconds.

Another loophole they discovered: once a cell was inspected, it wasn’t rechecked. They took advantage of that by sneaking items back and forth using a towel as a decoy.

The work No. 78 was doing was larger, harder to hide. So they stuffed it inside a towel, timed perfectly with the guard shift change and blind spots in surveillance.

Even though the warden hadn’t shown up for most of the week, others in the prison became reckless. Not them. They stayed sharp, ready.

Then, she returned.

The instant she entered the block, No. 78 and No. 99 flushed their toilets—an agreed-upon signal. No talking needed.

They overheard her conversation with another prisoner:

“…search for contraband.”

“Prisoner 459, care to explain the missing forks?”

Soon after, the clinking of metal hitting the floor echoed from the next cell.

While she was distracted by another inmate with a mechanical arm, No. 78 made the swap with No. 99, hiding the contraband in time. Other inmates saw but didn’t snitch—yet.

Before the warden entered No. 78’s cell, he whispered to his cellmate, “When she walks in, drink water.”

“Is she smart or intuitive?” he added, glasses flashing.

His roommate understood immediately and agreed.

When the warden finally stepped in, No. 78 was already seated on top of the hidden object, palms sweaty—but his face calm. He even moved aside to seem more relaxed.

She looked around but found nothing suspicious and started to leave… only to double back suddenly.

No. 78’s heart nearly stopped.

He’d hung No. 99’s towel on the bunk rail, obstructing part of the room. A deliberate placement—now looking painfully obvious.

Desperate, he defaulted to the truth: “I’m mysophobic.”

Technically, he was. He couldn’t bear to touch a towel used by someone else.

The warden didn’t comment. Her cold smile said it all.

Without hesitation, she began checking his bed. He knew what she was doing—looking for dust, signs of cleanliness, testing if his “mysophobia” was genuine.

Thankfully, her attention shifted when his roommate began sipping water—just as planned. She left, unsatisfied, but without evidence.

No. 78 knew it wasn’t over. She was suspicious now.

They had to leave tonight.

When the time came, both men prepared. No. 99 had the harder job: initiating the escape.

During ventilation hour—when prisoners were allowed outside—security was looser. The bionic guards only performed surface-level body checks. No X-rays.

No. 99 hid the EMP device under his underwear. It fit perfectly in a hollowed-out section near his artificial implant.

As he got closer to the courtyard, tension built. He passed the check. Barely.

The courtyard was laid out in a nine-square grid. At the center was the old swimming pool, now unused and covered with barbed wire.

He’d studied it well. When he got to the central section, he knew it was time.

Only 15 minutes remained in outdoor time—the ideal window. During this stretch, guards were focused on data collection, not real-time surveillance. Only one bionic guard would be actively patrolling.

This was it.

No. 99 gave a signal to his roommate.

The roommate stirred the pot, whispering to another prisoner: “I heard someone say you’re a bunch of idiots.”

That was enough.

Fists flew. Inmates piled on. The guard was forced to intervene.

While the chaos escalated, No. 99 dashed toward the remote door, pulled out the EMP, and triggered it.

The door opened.

He yelled, “Run!”

The fighters turned, saw the opening, and made a break for it, diving into the pool.

Then they stopped moving.

They floated.

No. 99 panicked—until he found the problem: wires hidden in the pool water. The pool had been electrified. Of course the warden wouldn’t leave it unsecured.

He ripped the wires out and drained the water.

Only a handful of inmates knew about the secret passage beneath the pool. No. 99 was one of them.

With minutes to spare, he dove in and slipped through the underwater exit.

Meanwhile, bionic guards rushed to rescue the unconscious. Some were electrocuted, some nearly drowned. They pulled them out and began scanning identities.

Two were missing.

Alarms blared.

By 19:00, Shi Xu locked down the entire facility.

Phase two of the escape was about to begin—Prisoner No. 78’s part.