Having surfed the net into the wee hours researching possible futures for the old jail in Clarion, I finally gave it up for the night. I should have then taken my normal walk along the dark streets of town and thought about something else. I should have watched some mindless junk on late-night TV and had a bite to eat and a glass of milk. I should have read a bit of an old book. Then I would have slept deeply and well. It was too late though, and I was just too tired. So, I brushed my teeth, put on a soft t-shirt to sleep in, crawled into bed and turned off the light. I closed my eyes and slid downward into unconsciousness, but my mind was still a-whirl with thoughts of the old jail and these carried me to a strange and interesting place.

                                      * * *

   A noise woke me. Something was not right. I reached back over my head for my glasses and rammed my fingertips painfully into a stone wall. Well, that woke me up proper and my eyes snapped wide open. I could see just fine, and one look served to show that I had troubles. I lay on a simple bed in a cold bare cell. A narrow door fashioned from black strap-iron faced me. Fighting panicky feelings, I walked on bare feet across the stone floor toward the door. Where was I? What had I done to be put in here? Glumly, I pulled at the door, and was much surprised when it swung silently open. Perhaps, anyway, I could escape to a warmer place.
   As I stepped from the cell, I heard that noise again --- children's voices. Great, that's all I needed. I hurried up a nearby metal staircase, and as I did it came to me where I was. This was the old jail, but some changes had obviously been made. Skylights in the roof above now let light onto an interior courtyard that was dotted with signs, computer screens, plants, chairs and benches. The cells, except for the one I had just come from, now had wide, arched doorways. Signs above their doors read --- Jail Cell, History, Geography, Industry, Commerce, Virtual Reality, Education, People, Government, and Staff --- how very curious.
   As I neared the top of the old-fashioned staircase left from prison days, I whacked my right foot against a step and went hopping onto the narrow catwalk that led around to the upper cells. Ducking breathlessly into the first of these, I peeped out to see if I had been discovered. Almost immediately, a burly teacher led his charges into the far end of courtyard below. Their voices carried easily up to my staining ears. A very thin 12-year-old was talking to his teacher.
   "Mr. Brocious, Mr. Brocious, I saw a man run up those stairs down there."
   "Other people are in the building with us, Alan. It was probably just someone who works here."
   "This man didn't have any pants on!"
   "Are you sure that he wasn't just wearing shorts?"
   "I don't think so," said the kid with a shade of doubt in his high-pitched, nasal voice.
   "Well, don't worry about it. We're not going up there for a while anyway." Then, turning to the mob of kids and raising his voice somewhat, the teacher said, "Gather around me, and listen well. I'm going to tell you the rules. First off, you must stay off of those steps over there. We'll have a guide later who will show us the upper rooms. You can use the screens and keyboards, but don't touch anything else. The screens out in the hall here will tell you what room to visit for a particular subject, just as Miz Hartle showed us in the lobby. When you use the screens in the rooms, select short subjects, or you'll only get to see about one room. If you find someone using a room, go ahead and enter, but be quiet about it. Understand?"
   "Yes, Mr. Brocious," came a chorus from the strangely dressed kids. They seemed to be in some sort of school uniform, but a distinctly odd one.