NOTE: told from the POV of a Mega-city one citizen

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I sighed in my small sparse, concrete apartment. It was self-contained – food delivered, meds delivered. Everyone was discouraged to leave their 'home', since the few elevators and entrances in the mega-block wouldn't accommodate anything but a small fraction of the total potential pedestrian traffic. The growing threat of gang violence didn't encourage people to leave, either.

But I wasn't satiated.

I pressed the door to the hallway, hearing the mechanical rusty grind due to disuse over the last few years.

A breath of fresh air as I stepped outside, all too fleeting; tortuous in its impermanence.

I looked around, desperately trying to find a glimpse of that familiar black and red uniform. I was in luck.

I picked up a small rock, too small to injure even if it did land on flesh, and hurled it at him.

He turned around, aiming his gun at me. I didn't flinch. I didn't care.

"Ten years in the cubes."

A feeling of peace came over me.

Finally, something different.

END

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A/N: As unrealistic as this fic might be, I think it's quite noteworthy that an iso-cube seems to be THE punishment for crimes (apart from death). Not sure if it came across, but I wanted the apartment to be what I imagine an iso-cube would be. I wanted to explore the theme that the system itself might be responsible for creating that which it tries to destroy. And a dry twisted humour that there could be a psychological difference, if not a physical one (sparse apartment and iso-cube). Tell people they can only experience one thing and they go insane, I think! Human nature. Our judgment of ourselves, our mental state is important. ;)

(why am I typing all this out? Don't know if it's obvious in the fic – lol. Eep.)