A vague sort of prison

Here is your bed, the warden said to the criminal. And this will probably be your bed for quite some time. – May I ask a question, said the criminal. – I suppose it’s up to you to know the answer to that question, the warden said. – Why are there no chains on this bed, the criminal asked. Why are there no locks on these doors? Why are there no walls surrounding this prison? – I don’t think there is any need, the warden said. Nothing keeps a criminal here but that he made a kind of confession, the kind of which you more or less made, and by doing so, he commits himself to a half-hearted acceptance to this prison, where no chains are necessary. – But what is to stop a person from escaping? – The criminal cannot escape his imprisonment here any more than I can escape my role as warden, the warden said, though without much conviction in what he said. Seeing the prisoner looked confused, the warden reluctantly added, - You see, this is a vague sort of prison. You were never sure what crime you committed, and neither are we. All you see is that the punishment matches the crime. I do not know whether you can escape, but I know that no one has ever left this prison. – Thank you, the criminal said, and sat on the bed though he really had no desire to. – Cheer up, the warden said, having nowhere else to do, but standing in the doorway as though leaving all the same. There are lots of women here.