Sometimes I think I'm understanding more of the gibberish that appears on screen during 'training'. It seems like I can differentiate the noises as recognizable.

But then I end up on my face again anyway.

I tried sitting in the chair once, that was a mistake. It definitely makes the pain worse.

I sigh and lean back against the wall.

The sun is up.

I'm pretty sure there's multiple suns in the sky, but they're so rarely overhead that I can't really tell if there's multiple passing overhead or if the sun is just...

Weird.

I don't know. It's an alien planet. Anything could be possible, including some weird orbit I don't understand.

What I do know is that when the sun is up it's sunny and hot.

'Sunny' does not mean the pleasant blue skies I'm used to seeing at home. There's an ever-present almost sickly yellow tint to the sky that...I don't know. I don't know why it's like that. The guards have no interest in chatting with me, and the fellow prisoners don't have that kind of knowledge.

Why the world is the way it is doesn't matter to slaves like us.

The frustration I see every time one of them tries to talk to me in 'common' and realizes I can't understand it makes me smile. Inwardly, anyway.

I'm not the type to be so defiant as to smile at the discomfort of the ones who hold me captive. Not to their faces. Eric strikes me as the type who might, but we're often separated during the day, so I don't know how often he does or doesn't do that.

I've lived in the pacific northwest most of my life, and so rain has been just...

Well, it's not constant. I didn't live somewhere like Seattle or whatever. But it's a part of life. It's common. Normal.

There's been no drop of rain since we got here.

Only this one endless, boring, citrus-tinted summer.

It might be a season though, I don't know. It's hard to keep track of the days, but not so hard that I've completely lost all track of time.

After all, they blend together, but I do have a bed time and a torture - sorry, I mean training - time each day.

It's only been a month or two, I think.

And...

I don't know how I feel about that thought.

I've had my daily diet of shocks today.

Now I'm in the 'muscle building' part of the day. It seems to me like we could just be in some air conditioned gym lifting weights, but these beings clearly feel that would be too easy and fun. So instead I push a tall, vaguely man-shaped rock back and forth on a track.

I'm not supposed to take breaks, but we're not that closely watched.

Or...

Well, at least I'm not. Probably because they don't want to bother with getting someone who can speak my language, and raw brutality can't always effectively communicate everything they want to communicate.

So with that in mind, I sit down on a smaller rock and lean back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

This is, as ever, futile.

I think I've probably been exercising all of an hour, but my head is swimming and I can't breathe right.

It's not a big deal. If I faint, I just wake up in my room at night. Apparently heat stroke is preventable enough that they're not concerned. Or I've gotten lucky so far.

It's the latter reason why I'm taking a break, partly.

I don't intend to die on some alien prison. Or cattle farm. Or slave camp. Whatever their actual purpose for us, I don't want to spend the rest of my life here, so I need to make sure my life is long enough that I can get out of here.

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A guard notices me.

Just my luck.

This one is a little different, though I have no idea if it's another species, or just another style. Or caste. Who knows?

The grey hair that covers its entire body from head to toe does nothing to disguise that it's in fantastic shape, and I'm acutely aware of that. From what I've observed, these gray-haired - I'd say fur, but the hair is long enough that feels weird - guards rank somewhere beneath the orange, yellow, and pink ones with no hair.

They're still firmly above us prisoners, though. And not shy about handing out punishment with their electrified little cattle prods.

I brace myself for more electricity as I straighten up to my full height, but.

It just gives me an appraising look.

It holds out its hand.

I have no idea what it wants.

I know a 'handshake' is the human greeting for this world, but it's not like I can do that if I can't understand what it's asking or why or what that means.

So I just.

Blink at it.

It sighs heavily.

I see a glimmer of frustration in the eyes of the being - the most expressive parts of its body, at least - before it shakes its hand impatiently.

Right.

Hand out.

...I feel like it's going to punish me for my hesitation, but I've no reason to trust that.

I gingerly reach out my hand.

It gives it an appraising look as soon as it's in range, but instead of punishing me for whatever transgression it thought I might commit, it grips the back of my wrist.

That...almost feels like a human handshake, but the grip is odd.

It does a motion like a shake, and then releases my arm.

...What.

It nods to itself in some manner of satisfaction and then walks away.

...I have no idea what the hell just happened.

But I've not been electrocuted yet, so I'm tentatively counting it as a win.

And not pushing my luck.

I return to my exercise.

After some indeterminable amount of time, the sun moves across the sky a few degrees and another of the orange, bumpy type guards comes and takes me away from the training grounds.

Which is good, because my arms are sore.

As I walk after him, I'm taken through other little stone monument courtyards like the one I've been pushing a rock in all day.

While I'm finished, it seems not all of us are. Some of my co-captives are still pushing rocks as I walk by.

Most of them seem to have this resigned attitude about them, almost defeated, as if they don't even consider themselves humans anymore. Or perhaps they've completely given up on any hope of getting home.

I think I'd look like that too, if that's what I were thinking.

At one point the man - thing - I'm following stops and begins speaking to one of the gray-haired guards.

A man is standing in front of his stone, breathing heavily.

His gaze meets mine.

It's-

I can't hold it.

There's nothing in it.

It's...

Different.

It's not like he's dead, or something. His eyes aren't milky or glazed over like that. But it's like his soul has left him.

...Maybe I'm overreacting.

It's still a little terrifying.

I look away quickly.

"You."

I jolt, but I'm not sure why. I suppose that's just how uncommon it is to hear English unbidden from one of my captors.

The being jerks his head away, beckoning me to follow him.

I obey.

That man is still standing and staring blankly ahead, and I find I have to resist the urge to look back at him.

...Maybe I'm overthinking it.

But that man was just staring at the rock in front of him like a robot.

...Like a robot.

I can't help a small, involuntary shiver.

We turn down a path that's not dirt or gravel. It's made of stones, small ones, but secured to the ground and flat enough that I don't wobble as I walk.

I wonder if this is cobblestone.

It's a small thing, but I realize that I never bothered to learn what exactly that is. Or to experience walking on it.

As I walk, that girl with the tangled hair suddenly runs out of a building and grabs my hand, leaning hard against my shoulder as we walk.

Our guard doesn't seem to care. Whatever it is about her, they seem not too concerned with her.

I smile and reach up to gently pet her messy hair. "Did you get done too?"

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

I'm glad she can get a break. She's so flimsy and thin, I worry that she'll be hurt even more than I am by all this pointless rock moving and lifting, especially in this heat.

As we walk, we pass by an area that seems to be mostly sand.

Sand is familiar to me, at least.

But instead of being all yellow or golden, this has an off green tinge to it.

It also looks like it has...bumps on it.

No, not bumps.

Things.

There are creatures on that green, bumpy sand that looks like...I don't know, like crabs but smaller. They scurry back and forth on the sand, never leaving the stretch of sand. Sometimes they bury themselves in the dirt, other times they seem to brandish their claw-like limbs.

The girl whimpers and hides her face against my shoulder.

I frown, but.

Well.

If she's afraid I'm not going to argue with her. I don't like them either. They give me the heebie-jeebies, especially because I don't know what they are or why they're here.

That man I followed out here turns a corner and steps into a larger house, like a hut except a lot bigger.

We have to duck to get inside.

I can't say it's any cooler in this place, though.

"Here." He points to a line drawn on the floor. "Wait."

I nod, though he doesn't seem to notice or care.

The girl clutches me tight.

It's foolish for me to think I can protect her or help her at all when I can't even protect myself, but..

Somehow I always feel extra protective of her when I see her.

I gently continue to pet her hair. "Don't worry." I murmur. "We're going to be okay."

I don't really know why, but when she looks up at me, she smiles just a little.

Like she actually believes me.