4. Lexi - Prison III
I was considered a very violent criminal who can’t be trusted to be allowed in society for the time being.
Me?
A violent criminal? Bullshit! I never hurt anyone. Well, except for the guy with a patch on his left eye, but he deserved to have his balls cut off because he was a pervert. And the blonde with the fake eyelashes was begging to be punched. The rest, I don’t remember.
Other than that, I’ve been a perfect lady when it came to stealing from houses. I didn’t even make a mess…well, not a big one anyway.
A smile tugs on the corners of my mouth as I reply to SAGE, “It would be my pleasure.”
Not a lie.
The best jobs come with the possibility of winning enough credits to buy good food and other items. Growing up in a poor family taught me to eat anything, but being around Nine—who loves to splurge on mangos—made me pick up the habit of munching on cucumbers. My newfound food obsession costs more credits than I would like to admit.
Once Nine, Samantha, and I have our week sorted out, we give way to other inmates to pick up their jobs and head out to our assignments.
“See you during lunch break,” I say before going to my small office area. I usually skip breakfast, but there are days when I have a cup of tea or some toast. Today I don’t feel like eating.
My office is an old supply closet that I took over soon after SAGE learned that I’m a mechanic and asked me to help with maintenance since. The CCC’s director, Lucile Hawthorn, kept postponing hiring a new one after Jet, the one in charge of keeping this place up and running, died because of the virus.
My work tablet is next to my work goggles. I pick it up and turn it on. SAGE has already sent me the map of the ventilation system and which oxygen filters I need to change. If not for the stupid drone flying above my head day and night, I would have been long gone from here. Nine knows how to fly a spaceship. She even promised to help me find Saul and finish him. Samantha would have been our sidekick.
I change into my working overalls, put my goggles around my head, grab my toolbox along with new filters, and head over to the first site I need to visit.
The goggles are something I fixed for my first job as a mechanic on CCC. I would have preferred a new pair, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The straps were so old they snapped when I tried to put them around my eyes. I found an old jean jacket, probably belonging to Jet, and turned part of the fabric into a headband and attached the goggles and other lenses I need for work to a wire that is under the seam and allows me to flip any lenses I need over my eyes.
Getting inside the ventilation system is technically easy since metal ladders are next to the trap doors for quick access, but without a sonic screwdriver, it’s almost impossible to undo the screws. For protocol reasons, SAGE has programmed all the drones, except mine, to paralyze any inmate who tries to mess with the ventilation grills. There had been plenty of women who didn’t heed SAGE’s warnings and were…grilled.
I chuckle internally at my own joke.
After I open the trap door, I get inside the ventilation system and put the grill back before making my way on my hands and knees through the maze of tubes to the filters I need to change. It takes a couple of hours to change five out of six filters. The last one is above Director Hawthorn’s office, in a place that’s hard to get to. I get the tools I need out of the toolbox, get flat on my stomach, and get to work. My overalls are full of grime, and I’m ready to exit the ventilation system and take a shower before SAGE gives me more stuff to do. I don’t mind the hard work but I hate getting dirty. It comes with the job, but I’d kill for one of those modern overalls that auto cleans itself.
As I work on the filter, the voice of Director Hawthorn, followed by that of an alien, comes from below me.
A ventilation shaft in the office ceiling is close to me, and I peek through it. Life has taught me that listening to conversations, even boring ones, can lead to many interesting developments.
Director Hawthorn sits at her desk. Across from her, enjoying some fresh watermelon, are two fat Vaxs.
The Vaxs are humanoid aliens with thick grey skin and chubby hairless bodies. They remind me of photos I saw of hippopotamus before they went extinct.
Their clothes, made from lunarlace, one of the most expensive fabrics in the Universe, usually worn by governors, senators, and other high-ranking officials. Like all clothes worn by the allies, there’s a decagram on their right sleeve. Each of its ten points represents the core principles of the Confederation. Peace, unity, exploration, knowledge, justice, prosperity, diversity, sustainability, innovation, and fight against evil.
Behind the decagram lies a field of stars, illustrating the vastness of space and the numerous potential allies and challenges that lie beyond what is currently known. Endless possibilities. The stars serve as a reminder that one day, we will be free of the terror the So’oks have brought to everyone’s hearts.
The color of the Stellar Accord Emblem varies. Civilians are white, while those of the inmates is black. The Senators use golden. These Vaxs emblems are golden.
Why would two Senators come here? Did they run out of men and now they want to recruit women and send them on the front line.