Having learnt a harsh lesson with the band, i settled down to listen to the rain, watch the shallow puddle of water grow in the middle of the cell and try to work out what to do next.
Strangely, that was less painful than trying to work out how i got here or who i was.
The big guy in the middle of the room started to shift uneasily in his sleep when he began to get wet.
Then all of a sudden, he forced himself upnight. Over the sound of the rain, I thought i heard him shout: "Oh no! Mom, i've done it again."
I glanced at Number 50, who seemed to find this funny, but then my eyes were drawn back to the black man as he climbed to his feet.
He really was big, with huge arms and legs, which already had the strechable cloth of his prison uniform straining under protest
"What's going on?" he cried, looking around the cell, pausing briefly to squint at each of us through narrowed eyes.
Number 47 held up a hand and spoke soothing words to him, which i couldn't hear over the sound of the rain.
"And why am i in chains?" he yelled, rattling them at her. "What did i do that was bad?"
"Calm down" i called out, motioning for him to sit. I don't think he really heard me over the rain and the sound or his own voice.
"And why so i have a headache?" he shouted, bringing his hands up to his head.
"My hair! Where my hair?" This discovery seemed to drive him over the edge. "You can't do this to me" he cried. "Let me go! Let me go!"
He punctuated each of these demands by yanking on his chains, snapping them tight with ease.
Then he grabbed the two lenghts in both hands and pulled as hard as he could.
I heard the sound of the links breaking even over the rain.
Free from the wall, he spun back toward me and brought his hands up to the band around his throat, which i could see had already started to tighten.
Somehow the band had been triggered without him touching it.
Then, suddenly, i saw his eyes roll back in his head and he just collapsed, like a puppet with cut strings.
At the same time, Number 49 in the opposite corner started to scream.
With that piercing scream, there was no doubt that our 5th prison inmate was a girl, or atleast a young woman.
I called out to her. Tried to calm her. Tried to tell her that everything would be okay. I doubt she heard my lies over the rain.
Number 50 was closer and seemed to be having more success communicating with her. At least the dim figure seemed to be responding to him, though i could not hear what he was saying so i doubt she could either.
I decided instead to see how the fallen giant was.
Moving as close to the black man as i could, i was relieved to see that the band around his throat had loosened.
I felt for a pulse, and found one. He was alive but unconscious.
Somehow i doubted that it had been the band that had caused his collapse. That had happened too quickly and the effect had been so total. A man that big should surely have gone down fighting.
And he had collapsed without having tampered with the band.
No, something else was going on here.
Maybe someone had done something to him by remote control, once he'd demonstrated that the chains couldn't hold him.
Were we being spied upon?