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Another 5am start. Every day is exactly the same. Despite this repetition, there is no sense of security and there is a constant unease that seems to prevail. We are always warned this could come undone, and it could be our fault. Protocols and procedures are drilled into our heads, from how we stand, speak and dress, to the order in which we pick and retrieve vegetables. Sat in the kitchen, cleaning plates. A colleague, she's talking about strange flying machines in the sky. She believes we are being watched, that we have been subject to some kind of experiment. 'Whoever, or whatever did this to the planet...maybe they wanted to see how humans coped. It was some kind of experiment. If they see we're not taking part, they might just get rid of us.' She spoke matter of factly as she washed out a cup. I willed on this act of destruction from outer space...just end it. Please. Finish it all. 'We've developed technologies which exceed those of the old world. We'll only get away with this for so long. Then some alien will think, hey they're getting too big for their boots, and blam, boom, over.' She didn't look at me as she spoke, intently scrubbing away at a sauce stain on a plate. Work hours were extended arbitrarily, we could never be sure when we were finished or when work would start again. 5am to 9pm was a good day. Our leaders believed this approach to work would instill in us a sense of readiness, where even during down time we could be kicked back into action without any kind of delay. 'What scares me is that they seem freer out there. I mean, sure, it's hell on earth, but do we have it much better here. I suppose we either have the research facility think for us here, or we lose our minds out there.' My stomach was in knots, anxiety persisted. 'What a time to be alive.' |