It was reserved for only the most extreme offenders with no hope of restoration of their rights or any privileges. A never ending life of misery and woe. Here was the final resting place of poor Ingrid.
Propaganda reels are made by the overseers making a true macabre masterpiece to frighten young school children. The films are shown once a month and some are so heinous even grown men in prisons weep.
At my behest, Ingrid was miraculously transferred. Any memory or trace of her was wiped out and no one questioned her sudden disappearance from the monthly reels, most assumed the worst. And to the Politiburo's credit they never show the final demise of a prisoner only their endless and agonizing slow decline.
Ingrid was transferred to the home of Oliver Pleagos. It was not her idea, but she readily accepted. The prison guards in charge of her transfer toyed with her and mocked and laughed at how terrified she was when they pretended to be turning around to send her back to the Island. For eight days they toyed with her this way before finally transferring her to a train bound for the Pleagos plantation. The guards were impressed by her genuine screams and guttural begging each time they made her believe she was going back to the Island.
Oliver was horrified and enraged as he held and embraced what was nothing more than a shell of Ingrid Glikmann. Any hint of life gone from her blank gaze and she was near catatonic except for any mention of the Island would set her off into a frenzy. He told me all of this and while deep down he wanted vengeance, he was grateful that she was freed and he would do his best in her recovery. She will never be the same.
Wolf made it known that he offered this courtesy. He trusted both Oliver and myself that this would be the end of it for the Artesians and both Ingrid and Oliver would be allowed to live quietly so as not to upset Sophie and myself. He was reticent that he had to make an example of poor Ingrid and even more so of John who he wished to release, but due to circumstances of their own making had condemned them.
I was more rebellious in my response and asked if this was just another of his games and a test of sorts to put us all back in some kind of mix to see what new insights may pop up. Wolf frowned and admitted he never considered such an idea, but now that it has become indeed a new mix, he was hoping there would be no new insights, in truth, he was tired of this whole Artesian affair and wanted no more of it. He takes no pleasure in all of this, he already has lost a son and in many ways his daughter as well.
He was then more forthcoming and called the Artesian just a hoax concocted by the higher ups in the Capital. It proved much more effective than they could have ever imagined and was initially used as a tool to weed out insurrection or potentially rebellious party members. They've used variants of the whole Artesian spin in other Politiburo's and all achieved similar levels of success in strike fear and drive those who remained into ever frighteningly blind loyalty to the greater cause. In the provincial coastal towns it was known as the Muses and in some of the low lying reaches they spun it as something else and he was certain their were at least a half dozen other variants and each with their own willing fall guy like Karl.
He has no idea what gibberish Karl Knutmudsen was saying in his secret sermons and Artesian cult meetings. As none of that was ever planned by the Capital and even more so surprised the higher ups who tasked Wolf to investigate and root out what Karl was up to. He found nothing, even sacrificing his own children Stephan and Sophie who surreptitiously and unwittingly made pawns to infiltrate Karl's cult. It nearly broke his heart when this gibberish and filth Karl was uttering actually was making a real effect on Stephan and soon would consume Sophie.
I am on my own personal island. Wolf's Island as he would say it. Ingrid escaped hers. Wolf would never escape his.
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