I bought a prison in the United States.

On October 25, Gloria arrived half an hour earlier than the agreed time.

She was driving a brown Ford, the odometer of which had long since exceeded 100,000 miles.

The back seat of the car was piled with interview notebooks, and there was also a portable typewriter.

There was a thermos cup wrapped with several layers of tape on the passenger seat.

There are a few inconspicuous scratches on the car body, all left from years of reporting.

Gloria turned off the engine, but didn't get out of the car immediately. She looked at the building across the street through the windshield.

The gray-white concrete exterior wall is square and dull, like a tombstone.

A faded American flag hangs above the main entrance.

The state flag beside it fluttered listlessly in the wind.

How to put it? It fits her consistent view of prisons, and even made her feel a little bored.

Gloria is 34 years old and has worked for the Tulsa World for nine years, specializing in feature articles.

The editor-in-chief's evaluation of her was:

"Words are like scalpels; they may not be warm, but every cut is precise."

If it weren't for the editor-in-chief's special arrangement for the interview, she probably would never have imagined that she would be doing an interview in a so-called private prison.

But the message conveyed above can be summed up in one sentence:

"This must be taken seriously."

The fact that a newspaper tycoon who rarely expresses his opinion could write these six words speaks volumes.

Based on this one sentence alone, Gloria dared not underestimate this interview.

"Phew~"

She took a deep breath, opened the car door, picked up the canvas bag containing the notebook and recorder, and walked towards the gate.

A burly prison guard in his thirties stood at the entrance.

This made Gloria slow her pace, but she still walked up to him and showed him her press pass:

"Hello sir, my name is Gloria Winters, a special correspondent for the Tulsa World."

"Hello, Miss Reporter, please follow me."

He glanced at the identification and pushed open the iron gate beside him:

"The warden is waiting for you in his office."

As Gloria stepped across the threshold, a scent wafted over her.

Disinfectant, sweat, grease emanating from the canteen, and the damp, mineral smell of concrete.

The other two state prisons she visited had the same smell.

If there's any difference, the sound here is significantly louder than in the other two prisons.

It wasn't the prisoners arguing, but the sound coming from the stamping machine.

A series of deep, resounding impacts came from the direction of the factory, causing the fluorescent lights in the corridor to tremble slightly.

Gloria looked around with slight curiosity; apart from the sound of the machines, the surroundings were unusually quiet.

It was as if there were no prisoners around; I didn't see any other people loitering along the way.

She followed Coffey down the corridor.

The walls were freshly painted white, there was no dust on the light bulbs, and no mold in the corners.

This doesn't look like a place for detaining people; it looks more like a newly renovated office building.

A corkboard nailed to the wall and several notices posted there caught her attention.

Points Leaderboard for the Third Week of October

Factory Shift Schedule

Progress Report from the Technology R&D Team

There is also a handwritten note in the bottom right corner:

Mrs. Martha said that the cafeteria will start serving hot cocoa next Monday; please bring your own cup.

Gloria stopped in front of the bulletin board and stared at the leaderboard for a while.

More than ninety names, each followed by a three-digit score.

The one in first place is Marcus Wayne, with 235 points.

Second place goes to Craig Miller, with 220 points.

"Are these all prisoners?"

"Yes."

Coffey stopped ahead, and upon seeing the reporter, appeared curious and began to explain:

"The leaderboard is updated every Friday. Inmates can accumulate points through labor and obtain some security rewards within the prison."

"This system was designed by the warden. Since it was implemented, the prisoners' morale has improved significantly, and riots have been reduced considerably."

"Really? Wait a minute, let me write this down."

Gloria took out her notebook and quickly scribbled a few lines.

Kofi hesitated for a moment, then said:

"If you're interested, I think the boss would be willing to give you a more detailed record."

"Then please take me to him."

Gloria's interest was much stronger now than when she first arrived.

The two reached the end of the corridor, where the door was open, and Gloria heard a steady male voice coming from inside.

"Mr. Morrison, the prototype was shipped out this morning by FedEx and should arrive at GE Appliances in Louisville on Monday."

"Yes, two thousand pieces. All were sampled three times, and the inspection report was attached to each piece."

"You're welcome."

Just as Ringo hung up the phone, Gloria walked to the door.

The first thing she noticed was the desk.

The documents on the table weren't piled up, they were stacked.

The left side shows the production report, the right side shows the R&D progress, and the middle section is for signatures—it's incredibly organized.

The second thing that caught his eye was the Reagan campaign poster on the wall behind him, with a huge red X drawn on it.

This surprised Gloria, who wondered if the warden was a member of the Democratic Party.

"Ms. Winters, please have a seat."

Lin Ge gestured with his chin toward the chair opposite him.

Gloria decided to put aside her suspicions and focus on the interview.

As soon as she sat down, she took out a tape recorder and notebook from her canvas bag, pressed the record button, and placed them on the table:

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Please go ahead."

Lin Ge leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands on the table, and waited patiently.

Gloria opened her notebook; the first page contained questions she had prepared beforehand.

"Mr. Chen, if I understand correctly, before you took over, this place had already been put up for auction by the county government, and no one had shown any interest for a long time."

"After you arrived, you secured orders from General Motors and General Electric in just over a month."

"How did you do that?"

Lingo picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and then replied:

"Simple, manage the prison like a company."

"If you can treat prisoners like employees, then points are wages and performance, and sentence reductions are year-end bonuses."

Gloria quickly raised the next question:

"Company employees can go home after get off work, but your prisoners can't. So how do you get them to work for you willingly?"

Lin Ge put down his cup:

"Because they can do math, and the basic education in America isn't so bad that it would turn them into idiots."

"In this prison, everyone knows how many points they have and what those points can be exchanged for."

"Those with higher scores will be given priority in choosing jobs, applying for single cells, and receiving weighted parole recommendations."

"Those with lower grades sleep on the lower bunk, eat the worst food, and have their daily exercise time reduced to one hour."

"There is no gray area in this system; every action of the prisoner will have quantifiable consequences."

Gloria's pen flew across the paper.

When she got to a certain line, she paused, then crossed something out.

She's not here to write reviews; she's only responsible for reporting reality.

The judgment rests with the reader.