The dust motes mixed with dirt make me cough as I try to chisel my way out of my dirt prison. I chisel for hours and don’t seem to be making any progress, not even a dent in the wall. There is a large pile of dirt beside me but the wall looks exactly the same, as it did hours before. Exhaustion overwhelms me and I crawl into my rickety cot, with rags as my duvet. I burrow myself in, and go to sleep in hopes that tomorrow will be a better day. I wake up, finding myself on the cold, concrete floor. My head spins because I sit up to quickly. I peer out of the miniscule window, high up in a corner of my cell and look outside. The window opening is covered in a thick, see through plastic sheet, just like the windows that airplanes used to have. Airplanes are now called Flyers. Everything’s changed. I really, really, regret participating in that time travel experiment.
Outside, the scenery is boring and ugly. Not a soul in sight, the only living people I know are here, is me, and my fellow prisoners, but they are in their own separate huts. The only thing I like about the planet is the water, but that’s changed too.
Suddenly, my white metal door opens and a hover table comes inside. Metal arms, attached to the device, pick up the meal and set it on the small desk, next to the door.
