Chapter 4: Frigid Rock

*** Liberty's POV ***

"Have you ever heard of an island called Frigid Rock?" Dr. Reed’s voice cuts through the tension in the room like a knife.

I blink, my mind racing to connect the dots. "Yes, it's off the coast of San Francisco, right?"

General Harrison's patronizing chuckle grates on my nerves. "That's Alcatraz you're thinking of, sweetie. It's an easy mistake to make, but believe me, Frigid Rock makes Alcatraz look like a five-star luxury resort, a daycare for naughty children."

I narrow my eyes at him, but before I can respond, Dr. Reed continues. "Frigid Rock is an island just off the coast of Boston, about two miles from shore." She pulls up a digital map on the screen, zooming in on a tiny, ominous speck in the vast blue expanse. "The island has a dark history. In the early 1900s, it was used as a military prison, and later, a maximum-security facility for the most dangerous criminals."

The images on the screen shift, showing old black-and-white photographs of the island’s bleak, fortress-like structures. "In the 1970s, a massive fire ravaged the prison, killing a significant number of inmates and guards. The facility was shut down and has been abandoned ever since."

Director Coleman steps in, his voice measured. "Three years ago, a very interesting paper written by a promising young PhD student crossed my desk. It went up to the highest levels. Brilliant, visionary, something that gave us hope. A radical and dangerous idea, but something that might just make a difference in our fight against the ongoing epidemic of prison violence sweeping through the US."

His eyes meet mine, and I feel a chill run down my spine. "You’re talking about my PhD thesis," I whisper, realization dawning.

"Precisely," Director Coleman confirms.

General Harrison takes over, his gruff voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "We immediately made plans to test your theories. Over the past three years, the American government has been secretly converting the original prison on Frigid Rock into a state-of-the-art maximum security detainment facility. No expense was spared. We've fast-tracked the project, and the prison has now been rebuilt and refurbished. It's a relatively small facility, as far as prisons go, with a maximum capacity of 300 prisoners, but those prisoners will be the worst of the worst. Killers, murderers, the most violent gangsters, mafia enforcers, assassins, war criminals, terrorists, genocidal cult leaders, arms dealers, cartel kingpins, infamous serial killers - even a cannibal or two. You name it, Frigid Rock’s got it."

Dr. Reed’s eyes bore into mine as she speaks. "A year ago, we started moving in prisoners. The current population is entirely male, selected from the most dangerous inmates across the country. Every warden, doctor, and staff member on the island is male, all to prepare for the experiment that is set to commence next month."

I swallow hard, the weight of their words sinking in. "But what exactly is the experiment? I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand what on earth any of this has to do with my research… with me."

Dr. Reed leans forward, her expression intense. "We want to test your hypothesis on blended-sex prison populations. We’ll be introducing a select group of female prisoners to Frigid Rock, under controlled conditions, to see if it reduces violence and improves rehabilitation outcomes."

My mind reels at the enormity of what they’re proposing. "You’re going to take the worst male prisoners and mix them with female prisoners, just to see what happens?"

General Harrison's voice is firm. "Not just to see what happens. This isn’t some sick game, Professor. We’re doing this to change the system. To change our entire society, even.”

“But, that's crazy,” I gasp, trying to reason with them. “We’re talking about extremely dangerous, violent men, men who haven't felt the touch of a woman in years. Those women - the females in the study - they’ll be subjected to all sorts of danger, to the most extreme sexual violence. The whole idea… it’s just madness.”

Dr. Reed leans back, her eyes focused and determined. "Madness, Professor Lockwood? A strange way to describe your own research and findings.”

She calmly reaches for a manila folder on the table, opening it to pull out a thick stack of papers. With a quick flourish she produces a pair of reading glasses from her jacket pocket, which she perches on the bridge of her nose, before she clears her throat and begins reading the text out aloud. I instantly recognise it - it’s an excerpt from my own academic paper, my PhD thesis, every word indelibly burned into my brain after months of obsessive research and labour a little over three years ago.

“The core theory that I propose should be tested, is that introducing a mixed-gender population within a prison environment can reduce violence and foster a more cooperative atmosphere,” Dr Reed says, reading my own words back to me in a clipped and formal tone. “My research suggests that the presence of women could act as a moderating influence on male prisoners' behavior. The hypothesis is that mixed-gender interactions, under strict supervision and controlled conditions, will reduce aggression and promote more positive social interactions. By integrating behavioral incentives and structured activities, we might aim to create an environment where prisoners are motivated to engage in non-violent behavior and work towards rehabilitation. The expected outcomes include a significant reduction in violent incidents, improved mental health and social dynamics among the inmates, and a model for future prison reform that emphasizes rehabilitation over punishment. The researchers would be tasked with closely monitoring various metrics, including incident reports, psychological evaluations, and social interactions, to measure the success of the experiment and adapt our approach as needed. It is my belief that-”

“Ok, fine, I’ve got it,” I interrupt Dr. Reed. “Point taken. But I never envisioned the experiment seeing the light of day. It was always an exercise in theory, the ‘what if’.”

“Regardless of how you feel about it, Professor, the experiment is going ahead,” Director Coleman says bluntly. “We’ve come too far, and there’s no turning back now.”

A silence falls over the room as I process this. My research was always theoretical, a series of ideas and possibilities. The reality of putting those theories to the test in such a high-stakes environment is both thrilling and terrifying.

"Professor Lockwood," Dr. Reed says, her voice softening, "if you’re so concerned with the ethics and the safety of the experiment, then the best option for you is to agree to take part. In fact, we want you to head up the entire project."

My heart skips a beat. Me? Leading an experiment of this magnitude? Sure, it’s based on my research, but I’m definitely not qualified.

"I... I don't know if I'm the right person for this," I stammer, doubt creeping in. "I'm just an academic. I've never done anything like this in real life."

Dr. Reed's expression softens, and she reaches across the table, placing a hand on mine. "Professor Lockwood - Liberty, may I call you that? You are the perfect person for this. You have the knowledge, the vision, and the drive to make a difference. This is your chance to turn theory into practice, to change lives."

I look around the room, at the faces of the people who have placed their trust in me. The magnitude of the task ahead is daunting.

“What about my job?” I ask, bewildered. “I can’t just walk away from my students, from my position at NYU. I have classes to teach.”

“We’ve already taken the initiative of having a little chat about the matter with the university president,” Director Coleman pipes up. “He understands that this is a matter of national security, and has given his full support if you should choose to take an academic sabbatical for the next few months.”

They spoke to my boss? Wow. That’s pretty presumptuous of them, kinda ballsy and arrogant - but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re the government, after all.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I need time to think about it.”

“Fine,” the General says, rising to leave the room. “You have until 12pm tomorrow to make up your mind. I hope you’ll make the right decision, Professor.”

Director Coleman follows, standing to follow the General out of the room with a quick nod in my direction, a curt goodbye before he addresses the special agents who have been stationed outside of the door this entire time.

“Jones, Anderson - please escort Professor Lockwood to the helipad,” he says brusquely. “Give Pearl a heads up.”

Both special agents nod, and finally Dr. Reed stands up.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again very soon,” she says, shaking my hand before she leaves the room.

As the agents lead me out of the White House, I feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on my shoulders.