"You hear what they're doing with those machines now?" Frank said. He leaned against the concrete wall, arms folded across his chest. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows on his face, deepening the lines around his mouth. A three-day stubble covered his jaw. His left eye twitched when he blinked.
"What machines?" Mike asked, warily. He sat on the edge of his cot, tying his shoe for the third time. His fingers were thick and reddened at the knuckles. A scar ran across his right thumb. The mattress beneath him sagged, thin enough to reveal the outline of metal springs.
The cell was eight by ten. Cinderblock walls painted institutional green, chipped in places to reveal older layers of paint beneath. A metal toilet without a seat stood in the corner. No privacy. A rust-colored water stain spread across the ceiling like a map of some foreign country.
"Those AI ones. Every country saying they'll control them, but not a one of them willing to slow down first." Frank rubbed his palm against his thigh. Somewhere down the corridor, someone was listening to a radio. The tinny sound of a football game drifted toward them, punctuated by a announcer's excited voice.
Mike stopped with his laces. He squinted up at Frank. His face was narrow, nose broken at least once. "My cousin’s kid works in tech. Says some of them are getting scared. Everyone waiting for someone else to put the brakes on first." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his thin neck.
Metal hit metal as someone down the hall rattled their cup against the bars. A guard yelled something unintelligible. Then quiet again.
"So many things to be scared of these days. Like the weather," Frank said. He moved to the small window, just a rectangle of gray sky. His reflection ghosted in the glass. "Factory down in my town was pumping all kinds of shit into the air. Owner told us straight up – either we keep doing it or China will just make it twice as bad. So what's the point?" His shoulders hunched slightly as he spoke. But then there’s the winds and the heat and the storms….”
"There's no point," Mike said. "That's what they want us to think." He stood, paced three steps, then back again. The floor was worn smooth in a path between the door and the bed. Generations of pacing.
A man in the next cell began to cough, a deep, wet sound. It went on for nearly a minute before stopping abruptly.
Frank turned. The light caught the gray at his temples. "You know those science labs, like the covid one, messing with diseases and such." His fingers tapped an irregular rhythm against his leg.
Mike's eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. "I mean if they are doing it we should too, right. National security and all that." He worked his jaw back and forth, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.
"But we'd all be safer if nobody did it," Frank said. His voice dropped lower.
"Sure," Mike said. "But who's going to stop first?" He passed a hand over his face, sighing. The harsh light made the bags under his eyes look like bruises.
A silence stretched between them. The distant sound of doors clanking shut echoed down the corridor. Footsteps approached, then receded. Someone laughed, the sound strange and out of place. The building creaked, settling.
"It's like these tariffs," Frank finally said. He sank onto his own cot. The frame squeaked under his weight. "My old job, making car parts. Company kept saying if our country dropped the tariffs, we'd all lose our jobs, but the prices kept going up anyway." His fingers picked at a loose thread on his blanket. "
"And everyone just kept raising them higher," Mike said. "Nobody wanting to be the sucker who backs down first." He leaned forward, elbows on knees. A muscle in his jaw worked. Through the wall came the muffled sound of someone crying.
Frank looked at his hands. They were calloused, nails blunt. A tattoo, faded to blue-green, peeked from under his sleeve. "You know what the funny thing is? We're all stuck in the same cell in the end."
"How's that?" Mike's eyebrows drew together. He scratched absently at his neck where a rash had formed.
"These big decisions. Countries pointing fingers. Nobody trusting nobody to do the right thing. So we all do the wrong thing together." The overhead light flickered twice, making their shadows jump on the wall.
Mike nodded slowly. "Kind of like us ending up in here."
"Yeah," Frank said. "Kind of exactly like that." He exhaled heavily through his nose, eyes fixed on the floor. “If you had just trusted me and kept your big mouth shut!”
“Oh, yeah! And what about you! You saw the same chance I did to save your skin! You told just like I did!”
Both men faced up to each other. They breathed heavily for a few moments..
They fell silent again. The radiator in the corner clanked and hissed. Outside, rain began to fall, pattering against the small window like distant applause. Somewhere far down the cell block, a man began to sing in a language neither of them understood.