Another day, another prison bus.<br/><br/>The dilapidated old vehicle rattled loudly as it came down the newly-laid and resurfaced road that led to the front gate of the prison. It slowed, then bobbled as it went over a speed bump - presumably there to stop friends of the convicts inside from smashing a speeding vehicle through the front gate. The jerking motion woke Wasp up. No, not Wasp any more, not when he didn't have a computer. Now, he was Nick Lewis. Not even that - he was Prisoner 31892. He'd managed to fall asleep on the bus to the prison, the rocking motion aiding the fact that he'd not really slept in the last week, due to the rather rapid nature of his so-called trial. The FBI had just wanted to put him away for a long time, so he couldn't embarrass them by revealing that not only had he, at just 21 years old, broken past their firewall system and gained access to their entire computer network, but also revealing the deep, dark secrets he'd discovered about their activities. So, his trial had been little short of a farce, a slight nod to the idea of innocent until proven guilty before throwing him away without chance of appeal in a fairer court.<br/><br/>Lifting his head from the window he'd been leaning against, Nick got his first look at the place he'd be spending the next 5 years of his life. It was oppressive, to say the least. Giant fences of presumably electrified wires surrounded the complex, with guard towers every 500 metres or so, each with two armed guards at the top. An inner fence about 10 metres short of the outer fence made escape even trickier. Not that he was thinking of escape, or anything, that would be suicide - he was just good at noticing every little detail in a scene with a single glance. The gates opened wide, and the bus whizzed through, going for another 30 seconds or so before coming to a halt outside the main building entrance. The guard at the front of the bus got out and opened the back doors, directing all of the prisoners out of the bus and into the prison building. Shuffling along with the rest of them - a thoroughly moronic bunch of pill-pushers and gang members - Nick tried to get used to moving with his hands and ankles cuffed and chained like this. If he fell over, he doubted the guards would be kind in picking him up again. The stairs provided a real challenge. Eventually though, he made it into the meet and greet room.<br/><br/>It wasn't exactly a warm welcome. After uncuffing all of them, the guards got them all to strip off their clothes. A thoroughly humiliating experience for Nick, the only middle class white guy amongst the busload of black guys and lower class white guys. The most important-looking guard called the first prisoner in the line up to a table in the corner of the room, got him to bend over it, then proceeded to stick three fingers up his pooper. Nick winced. He wasn't looking forward to that - he'd never had anyone put anything up his arse before, and this was hardly going to be a loving, caring first time. The line moved on and soon it was Nick's turn. Stepping up to the table, Nick bent over, breathing deeply in an attempt to keep calm. That went out the window as the guard's barely-lubed fingers thrust into his rear, wiggling around inside to try and find hidden contraband. It was excruciating, and Nick could barely keep himself from crying. Just about managing to keep it down to a whimper and a groan, he winced again when the hand was withdrawn.<br/><br/>Standing up - hardly straight, though, not with his arse hurting that much - Nick opened his mouth as instructed, suppressing the urge to gag and vomit when the same hand that had just been up his bum delved into his mouth. He could taste latex, and lube, and something else that he didn't want to think about - he was just glad that he'd been to the toilet before he'd gotten on the bus. Thankfully though, the inspection was soon over, and Nick staggered through the doorway to the right, expecting just to be given some clothes and directed to a cell. But no, it seemed the guards had something else in store. Hit with a powerful blast of freezing-cold water, Nick cowered, trying and failing to protect himself. After what seemed like hours under that jet of water, but was probably only a couple of minutes, the spray turned off, and Nick was left shivering in that tiled room. One of the guards shoved him a towel, and gave him all of about 5 seconds to dry before pointing him to a pile of clothes on another table, telling him to get dressed. Complying, albeit slowly, Nick went over and stood with the prisoners who had gone before him, waiting for someone to arrive and take them to their cells.<br/><br/>Only 3 weeks ago, he was working at IBM, on the fast track to success. Only 6 months ago, he'd graduated from MIT with a degree in computer science and artificial intelligence. How quickly life changed...