• The lone child trudged to the small platform, stepping up nervously. His father looked on, sitting in silence behind him. Both knew what was to happen, and had resigned themselves to their fates. The boy fumbled his hands, standing on the platform and looking down at the thousands of other prisoners standing, staring, their eyes locked on his face. A shot in the distance, a soft rumble of the ground. The enormous grey walls surrounding them give off a sense of hopelessness and discontinuity. Each and every person has been beaten, starved, and stripped of every right. Not because the government wanted this to happen, but simply because they could not stop it. They were walking zombies, driven to a near primal state. The boy, glancing at all the faces glaring up at him, swallowed and loked back at his father before speaking. "My fellow comrades, a traitor is among us today." He closes his eyes for a moment as a tear slips down his cheek. "Prisoner number 4231665 has attempted to incite numerous uprisings against the great nation of America." The boy turns his head and glares at the nearby guard, gritting his teeth. "Our gracious protectors have no time for uncooperative citizens like this, and therefore order the termination of said prisoner." He begins sobbing, pushing the final words of the memorized orders out of his half-closed mouth, looking out to the setting sun. Just another excuse to kill. ""Commence termination." He hears the guard pull a lever, cringing at the screaming and banging on the glass behind him as his father's flesh is melted by superheated gas. A moment later, all is quiet. The screaming stops. Warm summer air seems to amplify the silence, clinging to the boy's skin, causing him to adjust the tight chains and suit on his wrists and ankles. A scream is heard in the distance, somewhere over the grey walls. The small boy lowers his head. "We hope you use this example to better control your actions in the future. Have a nice day." He begins to cry, a guard leads him down the long stairway to rejoin the other prisoners.

    Two hours later, the sun sets over the walls, the soft whispering of a thousand lost souls echoing within. A guard standing atop the wall looks out upon the desolate landscape of sand and hills. Littering the view, compounds much like the one he is at now are scattered about. Barely visible in the distance, a tall green statue breaks the horizon the torch it holds seeming to glow in the orange hued light. It is dwarfed by the gigantic building surrounding it, glass shimmering and causing the guard to squint. The man sighs and walks back along the wall, stopping to idly chat with a female positioned at the doorway to the inner quarters. He pulls an ID from his pocket, standing straight and reciting the contents: "Master Sergeant John Ziski, 129th Regiment, reporting to end of shift 273 serving Population Control Center Number 30792. June 26th, year 2013."