Elaine Chang (11) | Staff Reporter
Matthias knew he made a mistake the moment the guard’s iron-plated knee crammed itself into his back. He tumbled forward, landing face-first against the craggy ground of the ore mine as a singular, lambent ore rolled from his open fist.
“It wasn’t me! I didn’t take—” He exclaimed, but protesting against the guard’s meticulously pre-programmed response system was pointless.
“Second-degree offence: illicit extraction of state-regulated resources in violation of the Resource Protection Laws. Under Bill 58 of—”
“Okay, I get it—!” Matthias twisted uncomfortably in the iron grip of the guard who plowed robotically on in his speech.
“—criminal admonishment will take place on Planet 88. Standard sentencing for violation of Bill 58…ten years.” As the guard finished its spiel, Matthias felt his heart leap to his throat. Ten years for one puny crystal? I didn’t even make it out of the mine.
Though Matthias opened his mouth to protest, the guard maintained a stoic front and began to march him out of the dark, damp mines towards the launching dock.
As the pair exited the dilapidated mine where Matthias worked into the bustle of the launching dock, an attendant holding a flashing blue baton herded the guard toward a steel-gray spacecraft.
A little screen attached to the ship denoted it as SpaceCraft 114 and its destination as Planet 88, due: 30 years. A mechanical ramp extended from the vessel like the inviting tongue of a metal beast, hungry for his remaining hope.
The guard’s heavy boots intently and painfully clipped at Matthias’ heels, but his feet felt rooted to the ground by apprehension. He glanced one more time at the sky, drinking in the inky, vast mosaic littered with glistening celestial bodies and swirling galaxies of another lifetime.
He regretted never appreciating the times he had to admire it before.
Matthias silently bade farewell to the faraway dream of making it to another planet where citizens could live in peace, far from the sooty, unkempt mines and long stretching days of hard labour he was forced to endure. He doubted where he was headed would be a sight to admire.
Impatiently, the guard shoved him up the steps and into the belly of the ship. The ramp reclined behind him and the metal door air-locked with a deafening suctioning noise.
Matthias watched as it uniformly sealed itself amongst the metal framework of the hull until it seemed like there had never been an escape from the ship in the first place. He gulped.
The interior space was dimly lit by strips of lights bordering the walls and the atmosphere exuded a peaty smell; faintly interlaced with antiseptic as if someone had tried to cover up the scent.
Suddenly, a shimmering, rippling, faintly blue image materialized before Matthias’ eyes. Her uncannily perfect face and flawless, slender figure betrayed that she was a holographic projection. She began speaking in a tinkling, feminine voice.
“Please place your hand under the scanner.” She demanded, reaching towards him. A prism of glimmering light stretched from her palm, into which Matthias obediently stuck his hand. He watched, wide-eyed, as it printed a bloodred number on his hand: #138876.
The scanner then retracted and he stared at the numbers with a dull, sinking realization forming in his stomach.
“Proceed to your assigned cryo-chamber.” The hologram said, its prerecorded voice punctuated with the odd digital static.
She glided silently towards a door marked PRESERVATION ROOM with bold, red letters. A scanning system verified her identity and the heavy door slid to allow them access to the room behind it.
Matthias followed the hologram abjectly, entering the morgue-esque room filled with rows of cryo-sleep pods. Each one emitted a faint glow that indicated its occupation. His steps seemed elephantine and overly exaggerated in the face of the deathly silence.
The hologram continued to the very last row of sleep pods.
In front of him, it finally stopped in front of a pod glowing a soft green to indicate its vacancy. Matthias caught a glimpse of his reaction in the pod and was startled to see his face, which he rarely saw, cast in cold, lifeless hues. His simple shirt was mottled with soot stains from working in a mine. The once-shiny material of his belt was insistently scratched and damaged.
He felt the bite of self-pity as the pod opened invitingly with a hiss.
“Please enter.” The hologram commanded, oblivious to his distress.
Taking a shallow breath, Matthias climbed inside. The padding inside seemed as welcoming as the walls of a mausoleum—ready to hold him in the state closest to death for the next thirty years.
The pod sealed behind him with a resolute click, and he felt claustrophobia prickling at his skin. An automated voice began to speak as the interior lights flickered to life.
“Pod occupied by Flier #138876. Commence cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Please keep your head resting on the headrest.”
A hissing noise filled the pod as thin tendrils of sleep immediately invaded Matthias’ senses.
Then, he felt the tug of drowsiness pulling him into timeless oblivion, and all he saw was the fleeting vision he had grasped of that vast night sky before he fell into his decade-long slumber.
