“The fuck kind of word is that supposed to be?” Asha scoffed, removing the anxiety nibbled “E” tile corner from between her teeth long enough to take a sip from her fruit punch flavored ration pack.
“It’s a medication. Oxazepam, it was used to treat alcohol withdrawal and anxiety disorder back on old Terra, before Quasihol was introduced of course,” Fix replied in vain attempting to clean his dust covered glasses with his dust covered uniform.
“Bet they wish they had some real booze now. Hell, I wish I had some real booze, instead of this Capri Sun knock off bullshit they give us. Man, I’m sick of this stupid game too, how are we ever supposed to win against a literal doctor, didn’t you go to medical school for like 10 years or something?”
“Well, we were all stupid enough to land ourselves in this wasteland, so it would seem that we’re all on pretty equal footing. But, yeah I’m done too, all I got is freaking vowels anyway,” I chime in sliding all my tiles back into the box.
“Actually it was 12 years with residency and considering the state of affairs down there, I would consider all of us pretty lucky to be in this ‘wasteland’. Prison colony isn’t glamorous living, but it sure as hell beats having your entire genome being stolen, ripped apart, and rewritten,” Fix replied sliding his perpetually filthy glasses back on.
“Who knows man, maybe if you were still back on Earth you could have been the Doc to fix it, that is why we call you Fix, isn’t it? That or something about stealing your patients meds to support your—you know what nevermind,” she grinned then glanced back up, “For real though, I knew it would be the drinking water.”
I throw in, “Oh sure, like how you know the hamsters in Recreation Hall are racist, or that the lasagna rations—“
“You know Smores ain’t never seen anyone darker that kindergarten paste that she didn’t want a nibble of. Smores is a fascist piece of shit!”
“Smores is a rehabilitation animal that is supposed to help you manage the stress of penalization Asha,” chuckled Officer Gauge as he approached, “ and I have it on good authority that she is in fact a Capitalist. I’m afraid yard hours are being cut short today, there is some required viewing inside”. We all bellyache as we shuffle out of chairs, and as I crack my back and begin making my way inside I notice that Officer Gauge appears a bit green with nausea, but sum it up to the contrast of his pale skin on the red dust.
Today there is no newscaster on the required viewing of Earth’s status update, which is simultaneously disconcerting and a pleasant change. Over the past months we had watched anchor woman slowly undergo the plague, watching as her skin shed to a somewhat reptilian layer and her bones warped into something we no longer recognized as human. Today there is only the low hum of the television and scrolling black text that reads as follows, “This message had been activated to broadcast the latest updates of the Virella outbreak. Do not panic. Be comforted in that change, not death is the prognosis. Professionals are still working towards a cure. All businesses remain closed. All public institutions remain closed. Stay home. Be with your family. No new updates.”
Respect for those amongst us with love ones and their silent worries left dinner to be a somber occasion. Afterwards I amble past the watch desk and into my room next-door turning in for the night. When I wake up again it is a little past midnight and I hear sniffles following inaudible sobs coming from corridor next to my room.
As I poke my head out of my room I see it is Officer Gauge sitting at the watch desk. My slippers pad my footsteps, and he doesn’t stir until I am only a few feet from the desk, “Do you need something Ash?” he asks quickly wipes a few lingering tears from his eyes.
I shake my head no and prop myself up against the desk. I offer him my silence as a space to tell me what’s wrong, he sighs and says, “I know they’re gone tonight, my girls. I can just feel it. I guess I never thought they could really all be gone, but—we’re really all that is left.” His lips trembles as another sob racks his chest. I slide into the chair next to him, and can only offer the little I have, the presence of company and a reassuring hand sliding across his shoulders. As my own tears begin to fall silently.