A.I.R.O.

A very short story set in an alternate U.S.

“Where are you keeping your wife’s daughter, Mr. White?!” Celestino could hear the interrogation in the adjacent room as he sat at a table in front of a mirror, hands cuffed to the arms of a chair bolted on the floor. The walls were supposed to be soundproof, to keep from unsettling those being held in nearby rooms, but most detention and interrogation centers had yet to upgrade their equipment. 

“You know, you really should tell us where she is, Mr. White. Neither of us want to go through the process of getting a warrant.” Pendejo should just tell them the name of a place; even if it isn’t true, he can pretend his accomplice moved her or some s**t. “That’s it, you leave me no choice! We’ll just have to continue this later, hope you have a good lawyer backing you up.” Pendejo, he eyed at the plastic wrap dispenser and pitcher of water at the edge of the table.

The door opened behind him, he heard the heavy thud of rubber on concrete as the officer walked into the room. The figure a large austere man was visible in the mirror, towering over Celestino sitting at the table,  his eyes still fixated on the water pitcher. 

“Celestino Jiménez, that right?”

“Yes,” he said, looking at the officer’s reflection through the mirror.

“Right then. You’re here again today for questioning on the robbing of Amanda Kinsey’s apartment at 1546 Lawson Street,” the officer moved from behind him and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Celestino scanned the officer’s uniform, looking for an identification badge of any sort. Nothing.

“Officer can I as-”

“You’re currently being charged with breaking and entering, trespassing, and grand theft. How do you plead?”

“I- uh-” Celestino’s eyes drifted from the officer back to items at edge of the table. “Guilty,” he gulped.

“And who was your accomplice?” Celestino looked straight back at the officer, “My accomplice?”

“Who helped you?” the officer’s inscrutable stoic expression was impossible to read.

“I- what? Nobody. I did it alone!”

“It’s in your best interest to tell the truth, Mr. Jimenez.” The slowly officer got up from his seat and began walking around the table towards Celestino. Still handcuffed the chair, Celestino struggled against the restraints.

“Hey man, I’m telling the truth I didn’t do it!” The officer stopped behind the chair and flipped the switch, causing the chair to recline with Celestino on his back. The officer began to fasten the harnesses over the detainee’s body across one side of the chair to another.

“If you’re not going to comply,” began the uniformed figure, “I’m going to have to use more advanced interrogation methods.” The leather straps now tight across his torso and legs, Celestino’s breathing quickened, he could feel blood begin to rush through his head.

“Yo, you can’t do this s**t! This is only the second questioning! You don’t have a f*****g warra-” The cellophane came down quickly on Celestino’s face. He struggled against it, but lacking the ability to move more than his neck, couldn’t remove it.

“I believe” the officer struggled to keep the wrap over the writhing detainee’s face, “That the court would find the available evidence and statements provide reasonable suspicion that you knowingly withheld information from an officer of the law.”

Celestino heard another person enter the room, walk to the edge of the table, and pick up the water pitcher. He looked at the two blurry figures through he cellophane and wondered where Mr. White’s lawyer was. The water began to pour.

Author's Note

This was for a class assignment, the prompt was: Sit in on a class in a field you're not familiar with and write about the world of that class, incorporating the language of it into the piece. The class I attended was titled "Religion and Torture"