New Reality 2: Justice Read Free Page A

for the sweet and cold liquid were too great to resist. She placed the can on her desk, her mouth watering as she watched the condensation run down its sides.
    With one hand, Marie opened the can, the sharp hiss piercing the silence. When she raised it to her lips and took a sip, the saccharine liquid seeped into her mouth, the sugar hit stretching all the way to her toes.
    After several gulps, she'd drained the can. The bloating in her stomach was almost instant, pushing it against her corset. The drink was a bad idea.
    She stared at the screens in front of her. One hundred and fifty tiny monitors. It was the same for her brothers and sisters. Six pairs of stinging eyes watched nine hundred tiny screens—nine hundred felons.
    Despite the shifting chaos on the wall in front of her, she watched the black screen. Her heart sank. Jake… the poor man had been so lost by the end. What other choice did she have? She'd had to tell Doug.  
    Marie covered her mouth when she burped, but the release of air did nothing to ease her gassy stomach. She straightened her back and breathed deeply, the soda churning in her guts.
    Once the nausea had passed, Marie rubbed her face and stared at her monitors. For her, it was a systematic process where she started in the top left and worked her way down to the bottom right. Ten screens on each of the fifteen rows. She checked them over and over, looking for something that might need her attention.
    Once she'd checked the first row, Marie glanced across at the blonde woman on her left. What process did she use? How did she decide if something was a negative projection? Did she ever ignore any? Should Marie have ignored Jake?
    She looked back at her screens. If she stared at her for too long, the cameras would see it.  
    The first screen on the second row made her pause. What the hell? She put her headphones on and tapped the larger monitor in front of her. Marie jumped when the projection brought a heavy metal soundtrack with it. The screaming guitar shredded her eardrums. Marie fumbled for the volume control with shaking hands.  
    Once she'd lowered it, she checked to either side. No one else had heard it. Then the blonde woman turned slightly. Maybe she had.
    Marie faced her monitor again, but she could feel the woman looking at her as though she was reaching out to Marie. Why else would she be looking over? Maybe she needed to talk about her experiences too.
    The urge to look back at the woman pulled on Marie's neck, but she stayed strong and watched the chaotic images flashing in front of her.
    Blood—lots of blood and a wink of shining metal followed by screams as the blade came down. Slash! Slash! Slash!
    The caffeine from her drink kicked in, her hands shaking to the point where it was hard to type. After several attempts and plenty of use of the backspace button, Marie brought up the profile photo of the prisoner whose projection it was. The blood covering his face made it hard, but after a few seconds of staring at him, Marie was sure it was a match. It wasn't a negative projection; this was his fantasy. He must be a lifer.
    A two-finger swipe across the monitor banished the image, replacing it with a couple having sex. There was no reason to think this was a negative projection, but Marie needed to let her stomach settle.
    To keep herself busy, she pulled up the profile picture of the ladies' man and compared it to the love maker on the screen. As was often the case, the man taking his partner to orgasmic heaven was a better-looking, taller, and slightly more buff version of the real person. Marie smiled and shook her head before looking to the left. Did Blondie find these losers funny too?  
    Her colleague was staring at her screen again.
    Marie watched the two bodies writhe together, bashing into one another, the woman screaming his name, him pounding hard into her. Male fantasies were so unimaginative. One hundred and fifty monitors—all of them men and they all wanted to have