The Problem of Cell 13 | Page 4

The walls of the cell,
though built he judged twenty years before, were perfectly solid, and
the window bars of new iron had not a shadow of rust on them. The
window itself, even with the bars out, would be a difficult mode of
egress because it was small.
Yet, seeing these things, The Thinking Machine was not discouraged.
Instead, he thoughtfully squinted at the great arc light -- there was
bright sunlight now -- and traced with his eyes the wire which led from

it to the building. That electric wire, he reasoned, must come down the
side of the building not a great distance from his cell. That might be
worth knowing.
Cell 13 was on the same floor with the offices of the prison -- that is,
not in the basement, nor yet upstairs. There were only four steps up to
the office floor, therefore the level of the floor must be only three or
four feet above the ground. He couldn't see the ground directly beneath
his window, but he could see it further out toward the wall. It would be
an easy drop from the window. Well and good.
Then The Thinking Machine fell to remembering how he had come to
the cell. First, there was the outside guard's booth, a part of the wall.
There were two heavily barred gates there, both of steel. At this gate
was one man always on guard. He admitted persons to the prison after
much clanking of keys and locks, and let them out when ordered to do
so. The warden's office was in the prison building, and in order to reach
that official from the prison yard one had to pass a gate of solid steel
with only a peep-hole in it. Then coming from that inner office to Cell
13, where he was now, one must pass a heavy wooden door and two
steel doors into the corridors of the prison; and always there was the
double-locked door of Cell 13 to reckon with.
There were then, The Thinking Machine recalled, seven doors to be
overcome before one could pass from Cell 13 into the outer world, a
free man. But against this was the fact that he was rarely interrupted. A
jailer appeared at his cell door at six in the morning with a breakfast of
prison fare; he would come again at noon, and again at six in the
afternoon. At nine o'clock at night would come the inspection tour.
That would be all.
"It's admirably arranged, this prison system," was the mental tribute
paid by The Thinking Machine. "I'll have to study it a little when I get
out. I had no idea there was such great care exercised in the prisons."
There was nothing, positively nothing, in his cell, except his iron bed,
so firmly put together that no man could tear it to pieces save with
sledges or a file. He had neither of these. There was not even a chair, or

a small table, or a bit of tin or crockery. Nothing! The jailer stood by
when he ate, then took away the wooden spoon and bowl which he had
used.
One by one these things sank into the brain of The Thinking Machine.
When the last possibility had been considered he began an examination
of his cell. From the roof, down the walls on all sides, he examined the
stones and the cement between them. He stamped over the floor
carefully time after time, but it was cement, perfectly solid. After the
examination he sat on the edge of the iron bed and was lost in thought
for a long time. For Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, The
Thinking Machine, had something to think about.
He was disturbed by a rat, which ran across his foot, then scampered
away into a dark corner of the cell, frightened at its own daring. After
awhile The Thinking Machine, squinting steadily into the darkness of
the corner where the rat had gone, was able to make out in the gloom
many little beady eyes staring at him. He counted six pair, and there
were perhaps others; he didn't see very well.
Then The Thinking Machine, from his seat on the bed, noticed for the
first time the bottom of his cell door. There was an opening there of
two inches between the steel bar and the floor. Still looking steadily at
this opening, The Thinking Machine backed suddenly into the corner
where he had seen the beady eyes. There was a great scampering of
tiny feet, several squeaks of frightened rodents, and then silence.
None of the rats had gone out the door, yet there were none in the cell.
Therefore there must be another way out of the cell, however small.