Prisoner 0004C

8 hours until Extermination

I stand and leave the cell, joining the throng of others towards the Hull. I am not too sure why the main sector of prison is called the Hull but perhaps it's because it is the main framework, the skeleton in which lesser ssectors join, similar to the hull of a ship.

The passage in which we walk is made of concrete and metal and lit by the fluorescent lights above. Usually, the trek to the Hull is silent, broken by the dull sound of boots against concrete or an occasional cough or sneeze which is quickly stifled. Today children are softly crying, their neighbors walking silently and disgustedly beside them. Many share my view of weakness on those who openly display their emotions.

The walk to the Hull doesn't take long, but it is often tedious and slow, with so many bodies pressed in such narrow corridors. Sometimes, fights occur. A kid might accidentally (or purposely) bump into the wrong kid on the wrong day. Unfortunate for them. Everyone knows how breaking the Rules are Punished. Fighting is a clear violation of these Rules and Punishment swiftly follows.

Eventually, we spill out into the Hull. The corridor in which we travel is lined with cells, not unlike my own. The occupants who have been here longest have cells the furthest away and will be the last to arrive. I envy that of the children with cells the closest who can simply step into the Hull from their door. My journey is long, of course, and my group last to arrive. The Hull is practically full when we enter its cavernous depths

The Hull is a large concrete and metal mass in an elongated sphere like shape, consisting of three levels. Each floor has a number of corridors leading out of it and a walkway all the way round. In the center of each level, except the lowest, the floor has been cut out in a circular shape so that those on the top level can lean down and look at the kids on the bottom level, and those on the bottom can peer up at the prisoners above. The sector of prison I belong to is located on the bottom level, the lowest floor. There is no way for me to climb levels. Sure, kids have tried suicide off the top two levels but we all know how that ends, don't we? Not nice.

Kids are still spewing out of the corridors above but in small trickles. Most are already here. I stand alone, as do many others. No one really talks, but there is the odd collection of kids comforting one another. The kids who are crying, of course. Most are staring into the cutout space between levels, waiting expectantly like we do every day.

In a burst of static a slightly blurry holographic image appears between the levels, suspended so that no matter which side of the level you're on, or even which level, everyone can see the same image. The holograph is blue-tinged, pixelated and see-through so that if I focus I can see the kids on level two also staring at the holograph with unfazed expressions similar to my own, I'm sure.

The same seal as every other day appears; the olive branch entwined by a circle border and the motto beneath written in Latin; 'mutata coniuncta populo'. Above the logo is the English translation; 'a changed and united nation'. The seal for the Organisation, our government. The Organisation's seal is accompanied by the digitalized voice of a woman, who usually speaks the same dull message every day. But today, of course, isn't every other day. Today is different. This is immediately highlighted by the bold words underneath the usual olive tree seal and motto; EXTERMINATION DAY.

"Juvenile Prisoners. Day 365; Extermination Day. Time; 7 hours and 26 minutes until the commencement of the annual Extermination. Categories of prisoners being Exterminated; A, B and C-"

I'm not sure why it was necessary to announce who is being exterminated; A, B and C is just a fancy way of saying "You're all being Exterminated motherfuckers!"

"--Proceed to the Extermination Sector for preparation."

With that final, joyful instruction the holograph collapsed, accompanied by a piercing sound of static.