Chapter 2

In the library, Mandy had to adhere to strict rules. Before entering the room, she secured her personal items in a locker and changed into an official staff uniform. There were few females working at the supermax, so their uniforms were special issued.

She couldn’t wear any perfume, neutral make-up was okay as long as it was lightly applied. Conversations had to remain conservative in context and last no longer than five minutes. No food, no drink (with the exception of a bottle of water the guard issued), no gum.

In the Library, when inmates were present, she required an escort, otherwise, she was restricted to the receptionist’s ‘cage’ as she called it: a semi-circular desk against the wall, surrounded by a plexiglass partition and secured by a code pad lock and a spring-loaded bolt lock that required a key to open. She hated resetting the latter lock. The desk itself had built-in computers, and the drawers were all locked. There was a small window to accept books for check-in/out.

The work itself was simple: maintain the library records, organize the books, check in and check out materials, monitor any inmates in the library, and perform various miscellaneous tasks as assigned. She was never alone when on shift. At all times, there was at least one supervisory librarian on duty, a specialized guard. Always a male guard.

When she first started working, a few of the inmates had to be restrained after getting a little too rowdy. Over time, as they became accustomed to her presence, things settled into a normal that no one wanted to upset.

The inmates were pleasant, courteous, even to the young woman working at the library. The most common comment she received was that she was ‘the loveliest part of the prison’. She enjoyed the fleeting flirts from the men, referring to them as ‘my dear gentlemen’.

The library was quiet today; a few of the inmates had elected to spend what little time they had outside their room there. It was one of the rare moments when Mandy was permitted to concentrate on her homework. She had a few papers she needed to finish for three different classes.

She was mid-thought on the complexities of RNA vs DNA viruses in relation to forensic science applications when her current supervisor sat down next to her.

“Mandy, you’re a special breed of nuts, aren’t you?”

She looked up from the biology book she had borrowed from the inmate library, a perplexed expression painting her face.

“I thought that was obvious. Why do you bring it up now?”

“Dickinson?! Really? Why in the world would you want to be remotely close to that, let alone in a room one-on-one?” The man was most animated when his emotions rose as he spoke; hands flailing in all directions.

“Be careful, Mark, I don’t want to report workplace abuse if you happen to accidentally slap me,” Mandy said with an accompanying giggle.

He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair, a somewhat disappointed look on his face as he eyed the young woman in his charge.

Mandy relented, “Prof. Steele is being a total prick, I need something over the top to get an ‘A’. I’ve worked my ass off in that class, and she refuses to give me the recognition she readily gives the guys.”

Realisation dawned on him. Professor Steele had facilitated a course at the station where he had been working before transferring to the supermax. She did tend to favor the male students in her classes. It made sense that someone like Mandy was struggling in a class led by her.