The headset and collar were festooned with wires and other such assorted electronics, wired up and fastened with little thought to aesthetics. Duct tape made up a fair amount of the gear's design, along with a number of solder blobs and a set of earphones that had apparently been taken from an MP3 player. The prisoner turned it over and over in his hands.

"As you can see, this prototype isn't much to look at - making it look pretty hasn't been much of a priority at this point in development," the voice of the warden spoke over the PA system. "But I can assure you, it works perfectly. Put it on now, please."

Somehow, the warden's assurance didn't much comfort the prisoner. Nevetheless, after a moment's hesitation, he fastened the collar around his neck and settled the headset in place. Almost immediately there was an faint, uncomfortable tingle in the back of his neck, where a metal contact met his flesh. The prisoner waited for a second or two as nothing happened, until a door in the shadows behind him opened. He started to turn in his seat to see what it was, but before he could catch more than a glimpse of the newcomer, there came the click of a switch. A wave of distinctly unpleasant pins-and-needles sensation passed through his entire body, as if his skin were literally crawling, and the prisoner froze, paralysed. He sat unmoving in his half-turned posture, his eyes fixed forward, his face blank and his body not responding to any command from his brain.

The warden stepped around the prisoner and continued. "As you can see, the headset has suspended all voluntary motor control. Don't worry, the condition is temporary, and your vital functions continue unimpeded, but as long as the equipment remains active," he explained, holding up a small remote control, "you are powerless to move on your own. Stand up."

The prisoner obeyed the warden immediately, standing to attention before him. In spite of the confusion and fear running through his mind, there was no indication of his emotional state on his face. Even his eyes didn't so much as twitch. The warden stepped up to the prisoner, casting an appraising eye over him... before slapping him across the face. The warden smirked as the prisoner didn't even flinch.

"Even the slightest token of resistance is beyond you. And what's more, you are compelled to obey anything I might command of you. Open this box."

I don't like where it is going, the prisoner thought.

The warden held out a wooden box, which the prisoner opened. Inside...

Oh god...

"Pick up the gun."

No no no no no no no!

"Put it to your temple."

Please...

"Fire."

BLAM!!

* * *

Of the many things the prisoner had been taught might be on the other side, the face of the warden was not what he would have first expected. Kneeling over him and grinning nastily, he twirled the gun idly around his finger. Eventually he stopped its spinning and allowed the prisoner a good look at the "BANG!" flag protruding from the barrel.

"Only joking," the warden chuckled, tossing the false gun aside. "But now I'm sure you see how I can command anything of you - literally, anything. High-stress situations - like forced suicide, for example - can overload the signal somewhat, but I'm sure further development can work out that hardware kink. Stand up and follow me."

The prisoner, thankfully without any bullet wounds, stood up obligingly and walked after the warden out of the room.

"We have a lot of work to do, my friend..."