Court-Mandated Recovery
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The judge had a furious look on his face as the jury rendered their verdict: Michael was declared guilty on all counts. Now they had reconvened for the sentencing.
"Your assaults were hateful and malicious and the jury has affirmed that. Now it is the duty of myself to render a sentence that will protect society from further violence. It was evident from your testimony and those of the witnesses that there is no natural path to redemption for you.
"I hereby order you to receive electrodes."
Michael snarled at the suggestion. Yet there was nothing he could do about it. His court-appointed lawyer approached the bench and whispered while cops grabbed him and dragged him out of the courtroom.
The process could not be appealed. His feckless defendant seemed unwilling to protect him. The procedure was scheduled for the end of the week.
He thrashed and swore the whole time as prison guards escorted him to the facility. It was a sterile room, white and undecorated. It was too clean. Too simple. It was as empty as they were going to make him.
"Relax Mr. Michael," the doctor said in a voice that was deceptively polite.
"No! You aren't going to do this," demanded Michael helplessly.
"Please relax," the doctor placed an oxygen mask over his face as the guards restrained his arms and legs.
Michael tried to reach forward and bite the doctor's fingers, but the ether already began to flow through the tubes. He felt his body growing heavy and his eyelids droop. A fog crept into his head. He had... he had to do something... but where was he again?
"After this procedure you'll be free to go home," the doctor said, although Miguel was barely listening.
He awoke with a start later. As soon as he opened his eyes he sat up with anxiety. But why? A flood of thoughts raced in his mind as he scanned his memory. Where was he? Back in a cell.
"Mister Michael, it is good to see you've woken up," said the doctor, watching on the other side of the bars with a tablet in his hand.
"You... you did something to me," Michael stated calmly.
They did the procedure. They had stuck those electrodes in his head. He was not happy about it, and wasn't happy beforehand either. Yet he couldn't get angry about it. He tried. He couldn't.
"I've confirmed your implants are operating. I'll grab the guards so you can be released."
He squinted when the bright afternoon sun hit his eyes. It was, what, a month in jail and now they were letting him go? It was a lot less than the last time, but this punishment seemed permanent.
He took a bus back to his home, a small run-down apartment in the basement of a five-story building. He reached for the keys in his pocket but remembered that he never locked the door. Why would he when there was nothing of value of steal.
The small kitchen smelled awful. Had it always been that way? It was something like mold, or mildew, or rotten cheese. Despite the overwhelming odor he passed by without taking action. He really needed to take a piss.
After flushing the toilet he washed his hands. He noted briefly that he needed to buy soap next time he went to the store. He also needed to get a towel, since he could only wipe his hands on his shirt.
He felt exhausted and longed for a nap in his soft bed. But before he left the powder room he looked at his face in the mirror. Was this him? He looked the same as before, but he felt different. They did something to him. They destroyed his old self and replaced it by this fake. What bothered him the most was his milquetoast feelings about it.
As he lay down in his bed, he stared up at the ceiling. There was a fan spinning around, providing him with something to watch. Ordinarily he would toss and turn for a while before being able to rest, but he found himself closing his eyes almost immediately.
He awoke with a start again. Yet the dream had already begun to fade from his memory. There was nothing left but a feeling of panic.
Michael looked out the sole window, a small sliver to the outside world at top of the wall. It was night.
He returned to the bathroom and splashed water in his face. His face was littered with stubble. It didn't look very good. He opened the medicine cabinet to grab his razor.
Ten minutes later he observed himself in the mirror. He looked younger now. He actually smiled at his reflection. He felt younger too.
Still, there was something wrong with his reflection. This wasn't who he was.
He walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. Several cockroaches suddenly scattered away from food scraps left on the floor. He picked up the crumbs and threw them in the trash.
On the table there was a screen. He had left it there the day that they came for him. He tapped twice and it turned back on like nothing had changed. Recognizing him, the device unlocked and there was a news story glaring in his face.
He read it again, through new eyes. It was about him, how he assaulted that young woman. It had quotes of the things he said, with heavy redactions, and even footage from a security drone. The same ten seconds flashed repeatedly showing what he did.
That was him.
He began to weep, overwhelmed by feelings he never felt before.
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I was going to write this month's story about NIMBYs, but was inspired to write something based on Noah Smith's thread about mental health and crime.
One question he poses is "what you think the standard of care for that disorder is", which is an interesting one since it asks us to look for some sort of objective solution to violence.
It does seem like there is something there, as brain scans suggest that some people are literally wired differently and that could lead them to act in anti-social ways.
This is not the first time this was raised. A Clockwork Orange was published in 1962, sixty years ago, about a type of chemical therapy that would make violent tendencies unpalatable.
In the near-future we would be more likely to just stick electronics in people's heads to modify their mood. A study conducted late last year took an individual's brain scans and created a treatment with electrodes to correct abnormal signals.
Neuralink recently was in the news due to reports of abuse on the monkeys they've been using in experiments.
Neuralink has been putting a lot of effort into developing a digital interface with the brain which could open a lot of potential applications if it can be generalized.
Could behavior modification work not just to treat depression but violent feelings? Could we eliminate anger and rage? Can we make people feel remorse and guilt? What does that mean for someone's identity? Is violence considered a part of your personality, or a bad trait in a large society?
One can spend forever having ethical debates, but in the meantime we have a marked rise in crime, assaults, and hate crimes. How do you balance personal autonomy with public safety?
We have prisons and even the death penalty. We do have many ethical debates about these too, but we still need to keep people safe while these debates continue.