Charles Rogers stood in line with the other prisoners waiting to get on the prison bus. He was going away for the next two years, and was still in shock from the swiftness of it all. He didn’t think he deserved to be here with these criminals. He was a computer geek, and a generally law abiding citizen, living a quiet life and keeping to himself most of the time. He was younger than most of the other prisoners, having recently celebrated his twenty-second birthday alone in front of his computer eating microwaved pizza.
The hydraulic door of the bus opened with a hiss, and a burly middle-aged prison guard stepped out holding a clipboard in one hand and a baton club in the other.
“All right, convicts, single file, move to the back of the bus and take a seat,” the older guard shouted.