It numbed them after a while, so much dying, you can’t go through
something like that and come out unscarred. So they closed down
their emotions to block it out, block it all out, and they’ve gone
through their lives here with just one thought—survival. Their own.
For all the talk of the colony, it only boils down to one person in
the end, doesn’t it?
Like children, it’s all me me me. But
maybe it’s easier that way. They don’t let the pain in, the loss.
It isn’t personal. It’s almost not even real. As long as it’s not
happening to them, they can pretend it doesn’t exist—lock it away
like they’ve done to us, keep it out like they’re doing to Shanley.
It’s their way of dealing with things they don’t understand, their
way of coping.
And finally someone is ready to fight
that.
So he needs my help. Be ready.
Staring at the ceiling of my cell, I hope I’m prepared for whatever
he has in mind. I wonder if he even knows what that is yet.
* * * *