Children of the Ark

Free Falling

I was reading when they came in, rushing through the doorway and yelling at me to stand up. I had learned it was better to do what they said but still hadn't learned to keep my mouth shut yet. I laid my book about Earth's atmosphere on the bed and stood. They had interupted my alotted reading time, a hour and a half every day. At first, the officer studied the cover of my book, but then he lost his softness and became rigid, looking me in the eyes.

"Hold out your wrist, Prisoner." I thought that he wanted me to argue. Maybe that would make it easier for him. I wasn't the type to give people what they wanted. Therefore, I held out my hand without a single word. It was better not to argue with officers in the Skybox. Arguing would lead to cruel punishment, and who wanted to volunteer for cruel punishment, not me. However, no punishment the officers could inflict on me would ever be worse than the one I went through every day alone in my room. I was silently rotting away in my cell, going day after day with little to no social interaction. I was living through hell, hell that I inflicted upon myself. I had to go steal those files. I had to go get myself locked up just for the better understanding of the Earth that my people left a century ago, the Earth that was a ball of toxic radiation. Even though I was locked up, I told myself I was lucky. I was only sixteen when it happened, so I wouldn't be killed like the guilty people over eighteen would for their crimes against the rules of the Ark. But sometimes, I thought death would be better than solitude.

"How are you today, Sir?" I asked with a tainted smile. Like I said, I hadn't learned to shut my mouth. He was over at the table, picking up a bracelet. I had a smirk on my face, but it quickly disappeared when he turned around with needles sticking up inside the band. That was when I started to resist. I jerked as he placed the needles against my skin and screamed when he pushed them into my skin. The pain was blinding at first, but when the bracelet closed, some of the urgent pain eased and became a deep ache.

"Only a bit of friendliness, Officer," I smirked again. Why couldn't I shut up? The main officer nodded, and a wand hit me in the back, sending volts of electricity through my body. I fell to my knees, smiling. "Oh that felt good." I turned around and looked up at the officer with the wand. "Would you like me to call you Daddy next time?" He blushed as he looked down at me. I had embarrassed him. It must have been wrong of me since the other officer grabbed me by the hair.

"Shut up, woman." He let me go by pushing me to the floor. I hit my face against the cement. When I was pulled back up, I felt something sliding down my face and realized that I was bleeding. "Help me pick her up," yelled the officer. The other one looked down at me with pity and hurried to heave me to my feet, only I was still too numb from the shock to walk. Dragging me, they walked out of the cell.

Outside was more hectic than what had happened in my cell. People were everywhere, screaming, kicking, cursing. The resisting were hit or shot with the sleep serum that I had a few encounters with before. Thankfully, I had only recieved the wand. Now I didn't have to walk, and they had to do all the extra hard work.

"Be a good girl and follow orders, okay?" said the officer that had struck me.

"Yes, Daddy," I responded. I wasn't about to make this easy for them.

"I am going to pretend like I didn't hear that." It gave me a sense of satisfaction. The officers carried me all the way to a large room filled with other delinquents. They had all been obedient since no one was passed out like the ones being changed in the hallways.

The officers sat me in the floor, and the large one threw a pair of clothes at me. "Put them on." All genders filled the room, staring at me.

"Fine." I said as the guys were already undressing me with their eyes. I turned and gave them a scrowl. I took off my shirt and threw it up to the officer. I was pissed, being forced to reveal my body to these people. I looked down at the stack of clothes. They were familiar. The shirt, a gray short sleeve that I stolen from my father, my favorite black bandana, and the pants that I had worn for years. They were the clothes I was arrested in. I tied the bandana around my hair, put the shirt on and sat there, looking up at the officers.