It´s hard living out there on earth. No food, no work, no life. Every day some punk tries to kill you and take your money, like guilt ain´t a problem for ´em. That´s not how life is around here. No wonder, since every other lowlife in the universe is sent here. It took mankind 650 years to find out that we´re alone in the universe, and another 650 to make sure. I guess humans aren´t that smart after all. Oh well. Back to work.

These space stations really need a serious overhaul. It´s like everywhere I look there´s an long, grey corridor, it´s very dull going up and down the same looking corridor over and over again. Well, I shouldn´t be complaining, it´s a prototype anyway. It´s called Rikers spacestation: resort & jail. Why a jail, I don´t know. Most people here are prisoners, very few people on holidays. I work here as a guard/cleaner, but I prefer the cleaning job, since I very much a coward.

A “shipment” is coming, a shuttle with crims from Jupiter or Mars or somthin’. About 700 or so. That’s very low compared to the first week. Then there were about 20000, just the first week. Looks like there are some visitors coming with them, to trie “the resort” here, wich is about 3 stars worth. There are also some new guards supposed to come to, probably just gathering the crims. The lucky people get work in outer space, the poor, dumb folks on earth are left to rot in shit that the goverments left them in. You just gotta love politics. I could go rambling on all day about politics but a crim just escaped from a cell. Got to rush.

Not a pretty sight. I guess the escapee got himself a gun, the poor guy on patrol got his brains on show, all over the corridor wall. At least it´s a change in color. A group of the new guards decide to hunt him down, even get some of the older ones to help. I guess I´m supposed to clean the mess, it´s always me. Well it´s what I get paid for, might as well do it. I open the nearest cleaning closet, and guess what! Out of it jumps a man in a crim uniform, holding a protocol gun for us guards. The next thing I know I´m looking down a barrel of a gun then, praying, also shitting in my pants out of fear, then BANG….

The End