In 2048, after 34 years of bloody war on Earth between anthros and humans, the world was practically divided into three parts:
- The anthro (furry) Federation (also known as the South)
- The human block of Far Eastern States (the East)
- And the Uni...
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Jack'sPOV
(conversation and thoughts in English)
*CHATTER* *CHATTER* *CHATTER*
(„Non")human voices conversed around. They exchanged impressions, or rather the lack thereof, from today's work in "Katlinka". Some knelt or stood - a few even lay on the floor. Each of them seemed to be speaking in their own language, contributing to the collective chaos and noise. It was hard to catch even a single word.
The second thing was that classical music was playing from the speakers, further hindering any understanding.
Standing among them, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. Almost every prisoner seemed to have a companion to talk to - most of mine had died over the years. I practically had no one to talk to. I just looked boredly at Sacharov's mural.
As for acquaintances, I happened to be someone with exceptionally bad luck. After my last friend's death, I was transferred to another cell, where either the occupants were experiencing their final moments or had descended into madness, or they simply didn't speak English. So, I spent most of my time there on my cot. It must have been a year already? Maybe two? I can't remember.
*CHATTER* *CHATTER*
Returning to the present, the prisoners divided into two groups. The first group still stood in line, waiting for their coveted meal allocation, while the second part sat at tables or on the floor, relishing their mostly meager portions. The first group looked at the second with envy, and the second seemed to guard their portions as if they were the apple of their eye.
I belonged to the first group, but there were only about three people ahead of me in line. So, I was in a comfortable situation.
Overall, this was probably my favorite room. Here, nobody thought about fear and guards; they only thought about food. Each of us pounced on it like an animal. It was surrounded by a kind of glory and reverence, but it was also an object of desire. Everyone wanted to taste it, even for just a moment. Nothing and no one was more important here, which provided me with a relief from the constant work in fear.
However, on the flip side, due to this very food, altercations were most common in this canteen throughout the entire camp.
Probably that's why they called this place the "hog trough."
Suddenly, the prisoners in front of me moved forward - another person approached the window. There were probably only two people ahead of me now.
