[ WP ] You have been sentenced to 300 years in prison . The catch is that you are an immortal being .

`` How come you' so young looking?'' asked Andra. We were enjoying a rare outdoor lunch where we could see the mountains behind the razor wire. Andra gazed up at the clouds with his head back. 
 
 `` It just might be that I look young, because I am young,'' I replied. But the question stirred in me with unexpected potency. 
 
 `` Your at least 40. That's no so old. But you do n't look it. Not a gray hair on you. And you still eat like a hog.'' He pointed at the single bit left of my bologna sandwich. His was opposite of mine, only one bite taken. 
 
 `` If I do n't look it, how are you so sure I'm 40.'' 
 
 `` You and I came the same week. You remember that. Twenty-five years ago now. You were n't fifteen then. I would guess maybe thirty. We were both lifers come on the same week. I was only 28 then. Thought you was older than me. But now. I feel like I could be your papa.'' 
 
 `` Guess I'm lucky.'' 
 
 `` I'm guessing' there more to it than that.'' 
 
 `` Like what?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know what but something'. Let's just leave it there.'' 
 
 Sargent Edwane looked at me through the glass, giving me the glare -- the one that sometimes sent men to isolation. Andra swore the glare burned him once, gave him the scar on his chest. `` This paper here says you're fifty-five,'' stated Edwane. I kept my eyes in my hands; it was n't a question. And even if it was I did n't have the answers he was looking for. Most mates called me Tut. They joked about how neither of us got old. Him, they said, cause he died; me, they said, cause I did n't know how. 
 
 `` This paper here says you are fifty-five.'' Edwane repeated. I could hear in his voice he wanted to do me in. I figured I better respond. 
 
 `` Yes sir.'' I offered. 
 
 `` Now look here young man. We both know you ai n't that old. How did you get in here? Where is the original Den Alled.'' Edwane was standing now, pointed at me the paper as though it was his pistol. There was a hint of red creeping into his face from the roots of his blond hair. 
 
 `` I do n't know what you mean sir. I'm Den.'' I knew it was the wrong thing to say. But it was the truth. I spent the next week alone; except when the doctors came. 
 
 `` Some people think the president should give you a pardon,'' said the reporter. `` What do you think of that?'' It was nice to be talking to someone from the outside -- other than a doctor -- without a glass between us. 
 
 `` I'd like to get out,'' I said. `` But so would a lot of the other folk here.'' As I talked I gulped down the hamburger he brought me. Perhaps if I finished it, he buy me another. 
 
 `` You've been here for fifty-three years, yet the doctors still say your body is like it was when you arrived at the age of twenty-seven. Do you think you make it another 247 years to finish your time?'' 
 
 `` Look,'' I said. `` I have no idea what is going on with my body. Plenty of people have asked me for the'secret.' There is no secret. This is just the way I am. I'd like to free, but 247 years is a long time. I've got more hope the president will pardon me; but why should he? We both know I pleaded guilty. I did terrible things. It took me a while to see it, but I understand it now. This is where I belong. Were I ca n't do something like I did before.'' 
 
 Burr was a hot head. Got thrown in with us after his wife finally got the courage to go to the police. I'd seen his type before, knew I'd have to show him his place before he'd leave me alone. I missed Andra. That guy knew how to do this kind a thing without hurting' anyone. So when Burr took one of my pancakes when a guard was n't looking'. I gave him a swift punch in the gut. He exploded in a ball of fury showering me with infective punches, I easily deflected with my forearms. After a man fights much he learns to deal with the pain of being hit. Burr's little punches never could have phased me. But they did n't pain me at all. I could feel the force of them, but they had absolutely no effect. There were no bruises to heal from. Later in isolation I pressed my knuckles against the cold raw wall and felt the same thing. It is n't much, but a cold raw wall scrapes a little. So I closed my fist and gave the wall a good pat. No pain. I hit harder. Nothing. I have n't felt a bit of pain since then. 
 
 Round midnight I was looking at the bright lights on the perimeter through the narrow window in my cell. I'd read a lot of books in the fifty years since they put me in this place. There was fiction, and there was non-fiction. I was beginning to feel more like fiction. Doctors still wanted to see me from time to time, but it was always the same. They did n't know what to think of me. Nothing in my genes. Blood was normal. Memory was normal. Eyesight was good, but just normal good. I was just a normal twenty-five year old fool who had been that way for decades. Who am I? What am I? 
 
 Most doors around here open when a guard pushes a button, but some of them have handles. They were having a class on poetry -- which I'd found to be more enjoyable than nothing. The door to the hall was electric, but the classroom door, that one, it had a handle. Like a fool, I pulled when the door needed pushing. 
 
 The handle came out of the door. Splinters from the wood jumped all over the room. The knob in my hand conformed itself to shape of my hand. I did n't mean any trouble. Guess I'm a little stronger than I realized. The guards went nuts. They tried to get me to lie on the ground, but I just ignored their metal sticks and tasers. One of the fellows got a cuff around one of my hands, but it must have been defective: it broke when I pulled on it. By this time there were more sirens and guards than I'd ever seen before. They hauled everyone else away including the poetry teacher. They shouted at me with a megaphone, but I just did n't care anymore. 
 
 After twenty or so of them got tired of wrestling with me, they finally game me some distance. I tried not to hurt any of them, but it is hard to get out of a pile of twenty men without pushing and shoving. I went back to my cell. No one would push the buttons to open the doors for me, so I broke them all. Its not my fault they do n't have handles. 
 
 Anyway, I'm tired. I hope they let me get some sleep. 

