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SEPT 13, 2149 DAY ONE ON THE GROUND
THE SKY BOX WAS NOT SO BAD, DAKOTA THOMPSON HAD DETERMINED OVER the past 12 months of her incarceration. If you could look past the metal coffin you lived in, there were some positives to be found.
All cells were the standard hollow cube of steel, circulating the same stale air for its convicts to breathe day in and day out. They each held an uncomfortable sleeping area with relentlessly squeaky springs, barely able to be called proper beds. Four long fluorescent tube lights framed the ceiling, casting an unflattering brilliance among the dull, gray prison room; a heavy strain on the eyes over time. A compact window was modeled in the middle of the square the bulbs formed above, leaving a small glimpse of the darkness that was speckled with an array of radiant stars for the inmates to relish in. They were cramped and boring, seeming to have been purposefully designed to bring madness to whomever was captive inside of them.
In Dakota's cell, however, the dreary and desolate walls were lined with textbooks of all kinds; stacked a mile high, in surprisingly pristine condition considering how often they were investigated by the girl. Under her bed is where she stored her massive conglomeration of neatly laid out string, the various shades of the thin fabric the only thing that brought a pop of color into the insipid space. Her cellmate, Fox, kept an array of pencils and notepads as her treasures; the young girl quite the artist.
Abby Griffin, a doctor and a member of the Ark's council, had fought long and hard for prisoners to be granted a few personal items within their cells; hence, leading to aiding Dakota's thirst for knowledge of any kind and her fierce obsession with crafting friendship bracelets.
It had been approximately 11 months and 28 days since Dakota's arrest; the girl having kept a flawless record of the time passing, despite how challenging it was to do in such a place. 11 months and 28 days since she had seen outside of the prisoner corridors, only getting scheduled 'bathroom breaks' twice a day; barbaric. Showers only came once every three weeks, being how scarce the water supply was on the Ark. Not to mention that the majority of the prisoners would soon be floated, which didn't exactly place them at the top of the council's list for being blessed with opportunities to promote good hygiene.
Currently, she was lying on her back against the cold, hard floor; her butt pressed against the wall with her legs extended upwards as they too rested against it. She held a gigantic ecology textbook above her face, re-reading it for what had to be the hundredth time. Her arms trembled slightly from supporting its mass in such a position for so long, the girl holding it up as if she were weightlifting, too engrossed in what she was reading to move her stiff muscles and roll more comfortably onto her stomach.
"Hey, Fox?" the girlqueried, her eyes never straying from her beloved text book; Fox sprawled out on her belly across her bed as she quietly sketched.
