Red Sky: Chapter 9
The cafeteria was a replica of all the cafeterias I remember from school. There was a tray rack where we picked up our trays and a bowl rack where we picked up our bowls. We waited in line to get food from giant steel dispensers that looked like turbines in a factory. After the turbines was the water line where we received our glass of water for the day. Then, like in all the school cafeterias I have known, we sat down on one of the many long tables that filled the room. Although no longer physically tethered to Max, I followed him as if I still were, learning the nightly routine.
We were joined by two of his friends, Com and Ray. Ray was built square like a box with black hair and powerful arms. Com was his slighter partner. Several other teams sat down at our table. A few of the other inmates were new like me. We kept quiet and let the veterans do the talking.
I looked down at my food. It was a sort of paste. We had a choice; either the blue paste from the first dispenser or the green paste from the second dispenser. I chose the blue paste on my first day. I would choose the green paste the next day. In fact, there was no difference between them. There was no taste to them at all. They were sustenance, nothing more. We didn’t have utensils, so most inmates ate with their hands. Others tried to slurp the paste out of the bowl like a soup.
“Are you going to eat that?” A gaunt-looking man across from me asked. I was about to give him my food. Max stopped me.
“You should eat,” he said. “You’ll need your strength.”
“And the ones that don’t, don’t last long,” Ray added.
I looked down at my food again. I wasn’t convinced. My mind wandered. I looked up to the guards on the walkways above. “I’m surprised they aren’t on the floor with us.”
“Goodwell believes in a hands-off philosophy.” Max said.
“Goodwell?”
“The warden. The man that runs this place. He probably introduced himself as God.”
I nodded in recognition.
Ray smiled. “It’s survival of the fittest, so you better eat your food or you won’t be one of the fittest.”
I looked down at the paste for a third time. It was still blue. It still looked unappetizing.
“It’s an experiment, to see how killers, thieves and liars get along with each other.”
“That’s what they want you to believe,” Max tried to cut in. Ray shook him off.
“In four years, I’ve seen ‘em pit us against each other. You gotta’ stay out of it. Keep your head down and survive.”
The inmates sat in clusters throughout the cafeteria. There was the feeling of an uneasy truce amongst the factions. It was like warring nations had marked out territory and put down their weapons because a larger more powerful nation was watching. The guards were that more powerful nation watching us from balconies that circled the room. Our table was one of the smallest clusters. The largest group was at the far end of the cafeteria.
That group was dominated by two inmates. I nicknamed one of them the Lion because of his think mane of hair and puffed out chest. The other one was the Snake because of the way he slithered around the table doing the Lion’s bidding. The Lion whispered into the Snake’s ear and the Snake slithered over to one of the inmates at the far end of their table. He rose up like a cobra and looked down at him, standing over him then striking quickly, knocking him to the ground.
The inmate was a new one like me. He was my seatmate from the transport, the embezzler who turned pale yellow during the landing. He had made the mistake of talking out of turn. He was kicked repeatedly, several of the veterans converging around him. The Lion and the Snake watched the attack approvingly.
I looked to the guards to see if they were going to do anything. None of them moved. Few of the inmates at my table even noticed. The beating was over in a couple of minutes. The group dispersed and Pale Yellow, now bruised and chastened, went back to eating.
On my left was the second largest faction. The most distinguishing characteristic of this group was an inmate sitting along the wall. He had one eye, his other one obviously mechanical. The mechanical eye bulged from his face and must have been a half-hearted job done on this moon or in some back alley and not by a real doctor. I nicknamed him Cyclops.
The rest of the tables were made up of smaller groups like ours. There was an entire ecosystem within that cafeteria with individuals and groups marking and claiming territory with the most primitive of methods.
At the end of the hour, a piercing whistle filled the room. A large holo appeared in the center of the room, Goodwell looming over us like an apparition.
“2.3 kilograms of Qalladium Ore were mined today. That is a 5% increase over yesterday, a 2% decrease from the day before. With the influx of new inmates we expect to do better. Tomorrow’s goal will be set at another 5% increase. Remember your families back home are relying on you. We need to do better tomorrow. We will do better tomorrow. We will do better the day after. We will continue to serve the Federation, so you can atone for your sins in this time of The Great War. The future of humanity will be determined by our work here.”
Goodwell disappeared and the guards moved downstairs. Our collars buzzed. It was time to line up.
*
The cold water poured down on my naked body. I kept my mind blank as I washed the dirt of the moon from my face and limbs. I knew I only had a minute. I scrubbed efficiently from head to toe. I wanted to be clean for the night. I didn’t want to sleep with that dirt on me.
The water shut off. I put the orange jumpsuit on and crawled onto my bed. I curled up in a ball since I had no blanket to keep me warm. I rested my head on my bent arm and closed my eyes. The harsh glare from the panel light of my cell penetrated my closed eyelids as I tried to fall asleep. Eventually, my light shut off and so did I. I was asleep lost in my dreams until a bright light and a harsh buzz would wake me once again.