Cryoworld

Chapter Eight: Fallen Snow

In the initial days of the quarantine, Jericho found himself adjusting to a new routine within the confines of their apartment. The days were marked by long stretches of silence, punctuated by the occasional sounds of life from other apartments and the distant, muted activities of the colony. His interactions with Aria were minimal, limited to necessary exchanges, often laden with an awkwardness that neither of them could seem to bridge.

Jericho spent his time immersed in various tasks to keep his mind occupied. He tinkered with old engineering projects he had brought from Earth, finding some solace in the familiarity of his work. He also spent hours gazing out the window, observing the limited movements in the colony, a world now constricted by fear and suspicion.

Despite the tension with Aria, Jericho couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation from her. Their once close relationship had become strained, a casualty of the stress and anxiety that permeated their lives. He missed the easy conversations and shared laughter they once had, now replaced by a quiet coexistence.

Mealtimes were the most evident reflection of their strained relationship. They ate mostly in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Jericho often found himself reflecting on how drastically their lives had changed since arriving at Triton. The excitement and hope that had accompanied their journey to the moon had faded, leaving a void filled with uncertainty.

In the evenings, Jericho lay in his bed, listening to the hum of the colony's life support systems - a constant reminder of their fragile existence in this alien world. His thoughts often drifted to the under city, the revelations about the Children of Nereus, and the escalating tensions within the colony. The lockdown had not only confined them physically but also seemed to amplify the emotional distance between him and Aria.

Jericho tried to understand Aria's perspective, her dedication to her work, and her belief in the mission of the colony. But the growing divide between them seemed insurmountable, a gap widened by unspoken grievances and misunderstandings.

As the days turned into weeks, Jericho found himself adapting to the quarantine's rhythm but felt increasingly disconnected from Aria. The once familiar and comforting presence of his sister now felt like another part of a world he was slowly losing touch with.

In this new reality, each day blurred into the next, marked only by the gradual changes in the artificial light that mimicked the cycle of day and night. Jericho clung to his routines, finding some semblance of normalcy in the midst of chaos. But deep down, he longed for a return to the days when their biggest concern was what to have for dinner, not the fear of what lay outside their door.

As weeks turned into a month, Jericho found the silence in the apartment growing heavier. The distance between him and Aria seemed to widen with each passing day. Their interactions were reduced to the bare minimum, creating an invisible barrier that neither seemed able to cross. The quarantine, initially a physical confinement, had now morphed into an emotional one, deepening the chasm within their small family.

Jericho spent his days lost in a routine that offered little variation. He tinkered with mechanical projects, read books, and watched old movies, anything to distract himself from the pervasive sense of isolation. The colony outside, once buzzing with activity and promise, was now a quiet, almost eerie place. The lockdown had transformed Triton into a shadow of its former self, and with it, changed the dynamics of those living within its confines.

Aria, immersed in her work, was often silent at mealtimes, her mind clearly elsewhere. The conversations that did occur were functional, lacking the warmth and depth they used to share. Jericho missed the comfort of their old relationship, the easy banter, and mutual understanding. Now, sitting across from her at the dinner table, he felt like he was with a stranger.