DeathByCleanliness: New story at The Grey Scribe: Death by Cleanliness

Johnson faced the front wall. That is to say, he was looking at the wall he considered to be front; all were identical, featureless. There were no doors, and no windows, just grey, identical walls.
Against one wall lay his bedroll, the same grey of the cell. On the opposite wall stood the latrine and a sink. Nothing more.
Just one week ago he had rooms in the best hotels; he had private offices and several secretaries to command. He could call in favours from dignitaries on several planets, and know they would be only too happy to assist. Gone, all gone.

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