I wake, as usual, to the sound of machinery. The whole place shudders and whines with the generator’s efforts, from the algae farm to my middle bunk. I can still hear Jenkins snoring above me. Haden is most likely already up, trying to scam an extra ration portion from Liz at the depot.

Sliding out of the bunk is a painful experience, too many years and too many fights. The recycled air’s persistent sweat-filled humidity doesn’t help either. My bunk mates hop around like it’s nothing, but they’ll slow down eventually. Everyone does here, on the inside, where everything is dead or heading that way.

I miss the outside world, not that I expect to see it again. I’m not even sure if it’s there. It’d just be nice to see anything other than the endless gray and rust of this place. I miss yellow. I can’t say why. All the natural colors were great. But I miss yellow. There’s probably a reason, but there’s no time for that. There’s a war to win. Guess I’ll just put yellow on the list, the long list.