examination rooms, laboratories, a complete medical center, and solitary confinement chambers for
angelic life-forms and, when necessary, human beings who obstructed their work. There were
facilities for intake procedures and facilities for disposing of dead creatures. There was a
crematorium. As the scientist in charge of this massive operation, every possible technological
advantage for the containment of the enemy was at his disposal.
The prison had been in various stages of planning since the 1950s, when the Russian Angelological
Society had begun searching for a site that could accommodate the masses of creatures they had taken
into custody. After two decades of fruitless attempts the society made a deal with the Kremlin to
occupy the space directly below Russia’s largest nuclear facility in Chelyabinsk. The agreement was
controversial among the angelologists—especially Western angelologists, who objected to any
alignment with the Russian government, which had blocked their efforts in Eastern Europe—but, after
negotiations, a deal was struck: Below the frozen fields, molded out of the concrete foundation of the
plutonium nuclear reactor, there would exist an immense secret observatory and prison facility.
While similar observatories existed elsewhere—Godwin had personally visited a structure in the
American state of Indiana and another in China—there was nothing that could compare with the
magnitude of the Siberian panopticon. The storage capacity of the facility was enormous, with
thousands of cells below the earth. The prison could hold up to twenty thousand angelic beings, from
the lower angelic life-forms to the highest. At present, it was filled to capacity.
Access to the panopticon could be gained only with security clearance, and only via specialized
tunnels. Godwin always traversed the south tunnel, but passageways opened through each quadrant,
each one equidistant from the central cavity, where the glass-and-steel holding cells stretched in a
seemingly endless curve, each one lit by a neon light, and each—when the prison was full—
containing an angelic being. The prison had three levels. The ground floor held the lowest angelic
life-forms. The next ring of cells contained the more dangerous breeds—Raiphim, Gibborim, Emim.
Level 1 held the Nephilim, and it required the highest level of security. The three levels formed an
elegant and intricate ovoid structure that, when one first encountered it, seemed like a glass
honeycomb, each cell crawling with an angry wasp.
In the very center of the rings of cells, separated from the creatures by a vast expanse of blue-lit
space, stood an observatory tower, a large glass capsule that rose from a concrete floor like a
spaceship. The observatory tower was constructed entirely of tinted panels, and it remained
darkened, so that the glowing holding cells seemed like rings of fire around a dark center. Inside the
capsule, scientists worked night and day, monitoring the creatures.
It was an ingenious structure, modeled on a classic panopticon prison of the variety developed by
Jeremy Bentham in the nineteenth century. A team of engineers had adapted this original concept,
reinventing it to suit the particular purposes of angelology. The original intention of a panopticon had
been to enforce a psychological control over the prisoners. A central tower was equipped with blinds
so that the prisoners could not be sure when they were being observed by prison guards. When the
blinds were closed, the prisoners behaved as if they were being watched. Angelologists hoped to
employ the same principle. An observer standing inside the tower had the power to watch each and
every cell. When they changed the opacity of the Plexiglas, the angels could no longer see the
scientists standing behind it. The creatures did not know when they were being watched and when
they were not. The effect was the illusion of continual surveillance. The angels were severely
punished for any infraction of the rules and in time became obedient and docile.
The angels had nowhere to hide. The cells were ten feet by ten feet, cold, and gray, as if the harsh
Siberian climate had been translated into the interior realms of the compound. There were no
blankets, beds, or toilets, nothing more than what was absolutely necessary to sustain the creatures.
Some of the imprisoned angels had been held in these conditions for decades, and would continue to
live out their lives under the observation of angelologists. These creatures were listless and resigned.
Recently captured creatures, the hope of release still burning in their eyes, stood whenever Godwin
came into view. The gesture was so pointless, so pathetic, that Godwin had to stifle an urge to laugh.
As he walked toward the tower he passed through a wash of grainy blue that fell over the concrete