CHAPTER TWO

Chisholm Prison

C hisholm prison was a large building. It was four floors high and stood in

the centre of a large open space. The wall around it was six metres high and impossible to
climb. Even if a man managed to escape from his cell, he could not pass over the wall.

The yard around the building was eight metres wide on all sides. This was the distance
from the prison building to the wall. During the day, prisoners used the yard to do
exercises. But it was not for those prisoners in Cell 13.

There were always four armed guards in the yard, one for each side of the building.

At night strong lights illuminated the yard and the wall. The wires that carried electricity to
these lights ran up the walls of the building.

The Thinking Machine saw and understood all these things. He had to stand on his bed to
see out of the small barred window. It was the morning after his incarceration. He soon
realised that somewhere on the other side of the wall there was a river because he could
hear the sound of a boat and saw a river bird in the sky. From the same direction he heard
the sound of children playing baseball, so he knew that there was a children’s playground
between the prison wall and the river.

No man had ever escaped from Chisholm Prison, and it was easy to see why. The walls of
the cell were perfectly solid and the bars on the window were new. And in any case, the
window itself was too small to escape through.
But this didn’t discourage The Thinking Machine. He looked up at the light and saw how
the wire went from it to the wall of the prison building. He realised that the wire passed
near the window of his cell. That could be useful.

Cell 13 was on the same floor as the prison offices. The Thinking Machine couldn’t see the
ground through the window of his cell. However, there were only four steps up to the office
floor. Therefore, the cell must be near the ground. Good.

The Thinking Machine remembered how he had come to the cell. First there was the
outside guard’s room which formed part of the wall, next to the prison gates. There was
always one guard at these gates who let people come into the prison and then let them out
again when the warden told him to. The warden’s office was in the prison building. From
the yard you had to pass through a solid steel door to get to it. The door had only one small
hole in it to see who was there. Then between the office and Cell 13 there was a heavy
wooden door and two steel doors in the corridors of the prison. Then, of course, there was
the door of Cell 13.

“There are seven doors between Cell 13 and freedom,” thought The Thinking Machine. “It
will not be easy. But there are advantages. I am alone here. Nobody looks at what I am
doing. There is one guard who brings my food three times a day, at six o’clock in the
morning, at noon, then again at six in the afternoon. And then there is the inspection at nine
o’clock. But that is all.”

There was nothing – absolutely nothing – in his cell, except a bed that was strongly
made and impossible to dismantle. There was no chair, no table, no cup or fork or spoon.
Nothing. The guard watched him while he ate and took away his plate and spoon as soon as
he had finished.

The Thinking Machine considered all these facts very carefully. Then he began an
examination of his cell. He examined the stones in the walls and roof and the cement
between them. He walked over the floor many times, but it was solid cement. After the
examination he sat on his bed and thought for a long time. Because Professor Augustus
S.F.X. Van Dusen had something to think about.
Suddenly, he was disturbed by a rat which ran across his foot and disappeared into a dark
corner of the cell. The Thinking Machine looked hard into the corner. After some time he
saw several pairs of yellow eyes looking back at him.

Then for the first time The Thinking Machine noticed the bottom of his cell door. There
was a space of about five centimetres between the steel bar and the floor. The Thinking
Machine walked into the corner where the rats were, but he continued to look at the door.
The rats were afraid and tried to escape. There was the sound of running feet and
several squeaks and then silence.

None of the rats had gone out the door, yet the cell was now empty. Therefore there
must be another way out of the cell, even if it was very small. He got down on his hands
and knees and began to look for the opening. Finally he found it. It was a small circular
hole in the floor, about four centimetres in diameter.

“So this is how the rats escaped. Interesting.”

He put his hand in the hole. It seemed to be an old drainpipe.

The Thinking Machine sat on the bed and thought for an hour. Then he looked once more
outside his cell window. One of the outside guards stood directly opposite, beside the wall.
He was looking at the window of Cell 13 when The Thinking Machine’s large head
appeared. But the Professor didn’t see the guard.

At twelve o’clock the Cell 13 guard brought The Thinking Machine his food. It was
horrible, but The Thinking Machine didn’t mind. He wasn’t interested in food. He spoke to
the guard, who watched him as he ate.

“Have they made any modifications here in the last few years?” asked The Thinking
Machine.

“Not really,” said the guard. “They built the new wall four years ago.”

“Have they done anything to the prison building?”

“Well, they painted the outside. And then seven years ago they had a new plumbing system
installed.”

“Ah, I see,” said the prisoner. “How far is the river over there?”
“About a hundred metres. The boys have a baseball ground between the wall and the river.”

The Thinking Machine had nothing more to say, but when the guard was ready to go he
asked for some water.

“I get very thirsty here,” he explained. “Could I have some water in a cup, please?”

“I’ll ask the warden,” replied the guard, and he went away.

Half an hour later he returned with a small cup.

“The warden says you may keep this cup,” he told the prisoner. “But you must show it to
me when I ask for it. If you break it, I won’t give you another one.”

“Thank you,” said The Thinking Machine. “I won’t break it.”

Two hours later the same guard was passing the door of Cell 13. He heard a noise and
stopped. The Thinking Machine was on his hands and knees in a corner of the cell. There
was the sound of several squeaks. The guard watched him.

“Ah, I’ve got you,” he heard the prisoner say.

“What have you got?” said the guard.

“One of these rats,” he replied. “See?”

The guard saw a rat in The Thinking Machine’s hands. The prisoner carried it towards the
light.

“It’s a water rat,” he said.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do than catch rats?” asked the guard.

“It’s terrible that there are rats in this prison,” said The Thinking Machine. “Take this one
away and kill it. There are many more where it came from.”

The guard took the rat and killed it. Later he told the warden about the incident, but the
warden only smiled.
Later that afternoon the armed guard in the yard outside Cell 13 saw the prisoner look out
and put a hand through the bars of the window. Something white fell slowly to the ground.
It was a roll of linen from a shirt, and wrapped around it was a five-dollar bill. The guard
looked up at the window again but the face was no longer there.

With a smile he took the cloth and the five-dollar bill to the warden’s office. There was
something written on the outside of the cloth in strange ink. It said:

“Please deliver to Dr Charles Ransome.”

“Ha!” said the warden, “His first plan of escape has failed. But why did he address it to Dr
Ransome?”

“And where did he get the pen and ink to write with?” added the guard.

The warden looked at the guard and the guard looked at the warden. There was no easy
solution to the mystery.

The warden studied the writing carefully.

“Well, let’s see what he wanted to say to Dr Ransome,” he said. He unrolled the second
piece of linen.

“Well, if that – what? ... What do you think of that?” he asked, extremely confused.

The guard took the piece of linen and read:

“Epa cseot d’net niiy awe htto n’si sih. T.”