But I will keep my secrets guarded. I will not let Happy win.

The technology that Happy uses to try and draw information out of me is the same technology they have been using to keep my mind from slipping away in the monotony of the Block. They call it the Sane Zone.

I’m still breathing heavily from the harvest and the water when the hatch in my cell door opens.

Immediately I moderate my breathing, slow it right down.

The guard on duty today is Jacob. Good. In the last few days I have managed to get through to Jacob; he has listened to me, hesitated before beginning the harvest, looked at me with real regret and shame in his eyes.

“Inmate 9-70-981, be informed that I have a loaded weapon and I am prepared to use it if you do not follow my instructions. Am I understood?”

My head is turned in the direction of the cell door and I see Jacob: young, skinny, fashionably long hair. His eyes glare at me down the barrel of an Ultrasonic Wave rifle. I don’t move, don’t blink, don’t react to the gun pointed at me.

“Inmate 9-70-981. Please lie down on the bed so I can activate the paralysis … Inmate 9-70-981 … Luka, are you okay?”

Still I don’t move. I lie on the floor of my cell, and try to keep my breathing as shallow as possible so that Jacob might think I’m not breathing at all.

“Luka?” He sounds unsure now, scared. “Oh shit!”

I hear the spin lock on my door opening and see the door swing inward. The young guard runs over to me, sliding to his knees and rolling me onto my back.

“Luka! Luka!” he calls, slapping my face to try and rouse me.

I want to grab for his USW rifle, I want to spring into action and break out of this place, but the energy harvest has left me drained, so I have to wait for the healing technology inside me to work. The important thing is, I’ve tricked a guard into entering my cell.

I take a sudden deep breath, as if I’ve just come to, and look at Jacob with confusion on my face.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, his voice shaking. “I think you stopped breathing.”

“Gods,” I say in hoarse voice, “I wish I’d died.”

“Don’t say that, don’t be saying things like that.”

“Why not?” I ask, stalling for time, waiting for my strength to return. “Death is a thousand times better than this place.”

“Come on, please, don’t say things like that!” he repeats. “I should call a medic drone, make sure you’re all right.”

His eyes begin to scan left and right, activating menus on his Lens.

“No, no,” I say, sitting up. “I’m fine, Jacob, really. I think I just fainted.”