The testing begins in three days. But I'm pretty sure the plan will work. I've thought about it every waking moment and dreamed about it the rest of the time. I'm almost certain, but I can't do it on my own.

I just need one other person and it would be almost perfect: a two-man bluff, a bit of sleight of hand, then we both disappear.

McGovern's stretched out on his bed, possibly asleep, possibly just pretending. I consider waking him.

Can I do that? I mean, can I really do this and live with it? A real man in this situation would surely just sit tight, take what was coming to him and try not to let them see that he's scared and hurting.

I think about my cellmate. I think about the things he's done and what he might still be doing now if it wasn't for these walls and bars. I think about the way he smiles when he talks about children.

And then I remember the bleach, the needles, the sick mingled smells of anti-septic and fear. I remember Naomi's eyes.

We're not really victims. This isn't about a big bad government trying to crush our spirits. We find ourselves where we are (you, more than likely safe in a house with alarms and deadbolts; me, in a cell with a remorseless killer, and probably about to die), not through the actions of an evil, unseen oppressor, but through our own inaction. There's no Big Brother, really: no Man to fight. The situation has not been forced upon us by a malevolent dictator. This has happened to us because we let it. It's the way of governments to push people as far as people are willing to be pushed. We knew this, and we never pushed back.

I hope McGovern pays for the terrible things he has done in his life. I hope he's caught before he can cause more destruction and pain. I pray that, somehow, my motives justify my means.

But first of all, I hope this works.

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