Nah, it's cause they don't want technology.
Chalk awoke suddenly as the landing craft thumped against the pad. The man riding in the back with he and the prisoner got up, and patted Chalk's shoulder. "Nice work out there, man!" he shouted over the loud engines.
Chalk simply nodded at him in return, and rose from his seat. The back opened, the hydraulics whining loudly. People were waiting outside, as well as medical personnel, who rushed inside to tend to the prisoner's wound. Chalk walked outside, looking around at the dull environment of Patriot Bay. It was surrounded on three sides by clear, blue water, and white sand beaches. It was shaped like a large rectangle, taking up most of the peninsula that it had been built on, as well as many more square miles of land underneath. Inside of the large rectangle, a yard full of prisoners who were dressed in drab black and gray fatigues. Most were of southern origin, others were of northern descent, likely having caused much trouble in their lifetimes. At each corner stood large towers with spotlights on either sides of the prison, mounted with four high caliber machine guns each. The rim of the rectangle, on each sides, was lined with barbed wire. Behind the barbed wire were walkways for guards to patrol or to use as shortcuts to their destinations. A guard wearing riot equipment approached Chalk, and tapped him on the arm. Chalk looked at him, and the guard jerked his thumb backward, gesturing behind him. "The warden wants to see you about your payment!" he shouted over the loud engines of the transport.
Chalk proceeded behind the guard without another word, and the guard turned, shrugging and throwing his arms up halfway. He turned back around, and began barking orders at the men surrounding the transport. Chalk descended a flight of stairs into the inside of the building, where he was met with guards, who led him to a secure room, from there he walked into the hallways, lined with cells. Chalk walked slowly to his left, toward the nearest corner, eying each and every prisoner as he passed them. While some stayed quiet, most made rude gestures, and faces at him, some even spat at him. Chalk simply laughed at them, and walked onward, until he reached a long hallway. He walked through it in the same fashion as before, and descended a tall flight of stairs, into the first sublevel of the prison, which contained long corridors of metal bulkhead style doors with eye slits in them. Screams echoed through the quiet hallways, so quiet if someone were to drop a pin, it would echo throughout. Chalk then walked to his right, toward two metal sliding doors with a small panel next to it. He pressed a button on the panel, and the doors slid open, revealing a utility like elevator, but in the center, a large cage with slits in the sides, about arm and neck level. Chalk stepped in, and pressed a button on the panel inside. The elevator began to drop at an alarmingly fast rate, which brought not concern to Chalk, or so it seemed. Eventually, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing a long, wide corridor, filled with guards and utilities access. He began walking down the corridor, until he reached the end, a rather ornate wooden door waiting for him. He stood straight, his shoulders pulled back, and knocked gently on the door. "Oh, do come in!" a muffled voice boomed from inside, and Chalk opened the door, stepping inside and shutting it. An aged man wearing a suit and tie sat behind a large wooden desk, which was clean looking, with a paper shelf in one corner and a computer monitor in the other. The aged man smiled, his thick white eyebrows raising. "Jacob, long time, long time! Please, sit, sit." he said.
"My name's not Jacob anymore, Mr. Budnavage, you know that." Chalk replied, his voice with the usual electronic hint to it.
"Ah, yes yes, of course, how could I forget? Should I call you #15746, then?" the man replied, his brow furrowing but his smile remaining.
Chalk remained quiet for a moment, before saying, "My pay?" he asked quietly.
The warden's smile slowly faded, he grumbled to himself. "Of course, yes, your pay..." he sighed. He opened a drawer on his desk, and retrieved a check book. He tore a paper from the book, and began scribbling furiously away on the many lines that needed filling. He then handed the paper to Chalk, and he examined it for a moment, before nodding.
"One fifty?" he asked rhetorically of course.
"Yes, yes, that was the price we agreed on, was it not?" the warden replied, the warm yet evil looking smile returning to his face. Chalk turned around, pulling the doorknob gently inward, making sure the door was shut, before turning the lock quietly. He then turned to the warden, letting out a prolonged breath of air from the filter on his mask. The warden frowned. "What?" he asked innocently.
