THE PRICE OF WORDS

The cell was gray and patchy, the cool breezes of night air moving into Alex’s eyes. He sat on the cement floor, his chin resting on his hands.

The faint footsteps of guards echoed like a clock, at regular intervals.

The thick iron bars of the cell were cold. Alex did not touch them.

Days passed inside the prison, but time did not move for him.

He still remembered the bullets fired from his father’s rifle that tore through soldiers, and through what remained of his family, and him.What was expressed through tears was tolerated; what was expressed through words was not.The prison felt no different from a poultry store, where lives were lined up, counted, and sold.

In the cafeteria, prisoners lined up in black shirts, moving when numbers were called.

“Seven-two-one. Seven-two-two. Seven-two-three.”

Alex moved slower than the rest.

“You again,” the server said. “How many times do I have to tell you to hurry?”

Alex looked at him. “As you wish.”

He took his tray and sat. A whisper reached him from behind.

“I know it’s almost impossible,” the stranger said. “But imagine how it would feel if we succeeded.”

Alex did not turn. He smiled faintly and continued eating.

Moments later, his stomach tightened. The taste turned sharp. He pushed the tray away and bent forward.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered.

That night, as he walked back to his cell, the corridor felt narrower than before. His thoughts circled the food, the taste, the intent behind it.

“Hard to swallow,” a voice said from the darkness.

Alex stopped.

“Digesting facts is tougher,” the voice added.

They spoke quietly after that. The man’s name was Joseph.

“Some voices are made louder,” Joseph said one night. “That’s how people get recruited.”

Alex studied the wall between them. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. Maybe five.”

“Long enough to see how these plans end.”

Joseph smiled in the dark. “My father used to say you can learn from younger people too.”

“Maybe,” Alex said, exhaling.

Later, Joseph asked, “So what’s your decision?”

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Without another word, they returned to their cells.

Alex lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Cool air slipped through the narrow window. A guard stopped outside Joseph’s bars.

“A new kind of treatment is coming,” the guard said. “For the clever ones.”

“Then it must be meant for you,” Joseph replied.

Alex smiled to himself and closed his eyes before the footsteps faded.

Morning light woke him. Voices overlapped in the corridor—routine, careless. He stretched his arms and stepped outside his cell.

“Do you remember anything?” Joseph asked as he passed.

“Maybe we try,” Alex said.

Joseph smiled. “That question is how people get noticed.”

“Signals get noticed too,” Alex replied.

“Only if someone’s watching.”

In the cafeteria again, the numbers were called. Alex did not move.

“Even God couldn’t make you come on time,” the server said.

“Then He knows it’s better to stay hungry than eat this,” Alex replied.

A cook stepped out from the kitchen. “Go back to your cell,” he said. “Leave it for those who need it.”

“I don’t want them to suffer more,” Alex said.

The cook watched him, then returned without a word.

Alex carried his tray to the bench beside Joseph.

“You’re confrontational,” Joseph said quietly.

“Spend enough time here,” Alex replied, “and you stop caring.”

“What happens next?” Alex asked.

Two guards stopped in front of them.

“Seven-two-one,” one said.

No one answered. Alex felt the pause stretch longer than it should.

“It’s me,” he said.

They did not explain. One of them took his arm. The other secured the cuffs. The room stayed quiet as they led him away.

Joseph did not follow with his eyes.

“He won’t come back the same,” he thought.

Later, long after the corridor had emptied, footsteps returned. The guards brought Alex back to his cell and left without a word.

“Did you enjoy the demonstration?” one of them asked.

Joseph looked at Alex and said nothing.Alex lay on the floor of his cell, unable to move without pain.

Joseph stood at the bars for a long moment before asking the guard. After a pause, the door opened. He entered with a bottle of water.

“I warned you,” he said quietly.

Alex smiled without humor. “I didn’t know pain could be taught.”

Joseph helped him onto the bed and held the bottle while he drank.

“What now?” Alex asked.

“Now you see the doctor,” Joseph said.

The corridor to the medical wing was empty. When Alex’s number was called, the doctor barely looked up.

“The injuries will take time,” he said.

Alex met his eyes. “Not as long as the damage done outside these walls.”

The doctor paused. “This was only a warning.”

Joseph stepped in. “He doesn’t understand things clearly,” he said lightly.

The doctor wrote something down and handed over the medicine.

They returned to their cells without speaking.