Planet Prison

“Death never scared me,” I say to an eagle. “Not until today.”

 

It pays mind only to its decaying meal. 

 

“This was my favourite bench as a kid,” I add, remembering my neighbourhood’s familiar symphony: faint, distant gunshots and sirens. 

 

Replaced now by near silence. 

 

●○●○●

 

I roam through abandoned cars, then lean into one. A wallet on the driver’s seat, a broken necklace on the backseat. I shuffle through the wallet, take the cash and credit card, and stuff them and the necklace in my orange jumpsuit pockets. 

 

I stand upright. Glare at the empty seats. Heat rises in my chest. With a loud growl, I slam the car door shut. 

 

I’m transported to a similar slam: reverberating through the prison as every cell door opens automatically. 

 

Reluctantly, I step into the hall, joining almost every other confused inmate on my range. 

 

No guards in sight. But each room is tagged to match our jumpsuit’s number. Is it safe to leave?

 

We do, regardless. We trickle out, spreading like spilled orange juice, staining every direction we go in.

 

●○●○●

 

After some time, I'm at the bank. The bank I’d been arrested at a lifetime ago. 

 

I’m in and out in a few minutes, carrying two large duffle bags. Millions in each — I guess this means I’ve won.  

 

●○●○●

 

Still carrying my prize, I shuffle along a sidewalk in a once bustling area of the city. Now a ghost town. 

 

I stop to read a discarded newspaper. It reads of an imminent cosmic attack, issued during my sentence. 

 

A flashy billboard catches my eye, on which a dime-piece model showcases products one could use to prepare for hypersleep. 

 

A shop offers a service — available at half price — for those wanting outer space survival training. 

 

I push the door open with my sandal and find a pamphlet for end times meditative therapy. 

 

“Mindfulness in Mayhem?” I mutter, reading its slogan. 

 

I’m transported again: two guards talking nearby. 

 

“I’ll be having meditative therapy on Thursday,” one says. “Wife’s going crazy about the whole thing, kids catching on. I’m the glue that ties my family together — can’t afford to lose my head, too. You know?”

 

The other guard laughs. “Yup. Mindfulness in Mayhem.” 

 

After leaving the shop, I walk down the street until I come to a laundromat. A news rerun plays on the TV — footage of a departing space shuttle and crowds of people vying to get on another. The newscaster reports that certain groups have been left behind. 

 

My group. Felons — staring at endangerment. Alone in a world that’s passing away. 

 

●○●○●

 

Having left my money bags on the street, I’m here now, sitting on my neighbourhood bench. The eagle is just about finished its meal. 

 

The eagle spreads its wings and soars away into the crimson sky. 

 

I spread my arms along the back of the bench, lengthen my legs and cross my ankles. 

 

Well, this has always been a good place to sit.