A story that makes no sense, Chapter 6

GINA

Gina woke up. She was in a cell that was about six square meters big. The only objects the cell had was two beds and an exposed toilet. She lay down on one of the beds. This is what I get for being such a fool. There was obviously no way out. Still, Gina was sure she would find a way. She thought of the boy she had saved at that protest.

The mattress on the bed was not uncomfortable. She stared
aimlessly at the ceiling. A guard came by. "Okay 4871," the guard said, addressing Gina solely by her prison identification number. "You have been assigned to the brick making machine. Ever wonder where all the bricks you see come from and how they're made?"
"Not really," Ginger replied.
"Well, now you're gonna find out." The guard opened the gate and beckoned her to follow him. Gina did so without a word. She looked down at her ankle shackles. She was required to wear them at all times, and she would only be allowed one shower/month.
"Your natural ability for your senses to adapt will alleviate any bad odors you might sense at first," a female guard said, rather encouragingly.

She was soon brought over to the clay maker in the brickworks. "Pull that lever back and forth. It will crush the rock to be sent down the conveyer belt, where the molders will make them into bricks. Go!"

Gina worked with the lever for ten hours, with a half-hour break for lunch. At seven-o-clock, dinner was served. Dinner was not bad- hot chicken soup. She met a prisoner named Samantha McHarley.
"What are you in here for, Samantha?"
"Petty larceny. I tried to steal a jacket. You?"
"I attacked a peace officer who was apprehending a fellow protester. So, the cops arrested me instead."
Samantha rolled her eyes. "Violence does not do much good, if any. Ever hear of some guy who wrote a book called Civil Disobedience?
"You mean Thorough?"
"Yeah, him." Samantha gulped down some more soup.
"I didn't see you in the brickworks. Are you assigned someplace else?"
"They have me sewing new jumpsuits. There's a quota of two per day."
"And if sew three?"
"All I get is a 'thanks.' Which is better than nothing, I suppose," Samantha said. "So, you think there's a way outta here?"
"There's always hope," Gina replied.
"If only there was something leading to a sewer..."
"Hah!" Gina laughed. Gina knew that even if she did escape, that did not mean that she could just run home. Her family could get into a lot of trouble for giving her refuge. Same with Clarence or Seward. And she did not want to even think of Mandy at all.

Gina felt like she wanted a cellmate. Not to be friends with, but to beat up. Not that doing so would help anything. Back in her cell, she thought about Samantha. Could she be asked to work in the sewing room?

Gina also thought about her upcoming trial. She knew she was guilty. What would happen if she confessed to the crime? Would she get her sentence commuted?

She was happy Mandy had a crush on Clarence. It meant Seward might still be all hers. But it also meant Mandy had someone to confide in, too, and that was good.

Mandy's father was in jail, too. She now felt worthless because of how she made fun of him right in front of her, and now she was in the exact same situation for a very similar offense. She decided to do some push-ups to keep her mind and heart rate up.

She dreamed of a mob breaking in and freeing all the prisoners, like what happened with the Bastille raid. She thought about what would happen to Samantha if such a riot happened. She suddenly did not want it to happen.

She looked down at her ankle shackles again, and at her cell door. She knew she would never escape. She day-dreamed about Seward. She found herself wanting to be friendly to Mandy.

Stop being such a baby she told herself. Lights went out and Gina fell asleep.

Then next morning, she was woken up. "4871! Are you ready for your shower?"

The guard led Gina down the hall. When they got to the stalls, the guard undid her ankle shackles. "Strip. Stall three is open."
Gina went in. She knew that this would be the only shower she would take the whole week. Possibly the whole month.

"No more than five minutes in the stall. Here's your towel. Go!"
"Thank you," Gina replied. Escaping was so stuck in her mind she had to tell herself the obvious- she could not escape without clothes on.

After her shower, she dressed, and the guard put her ankle shackles back on. She went to the brickworks and pushed and pulled the clay lever. She looked down at her ankle shackles again and wondered if she could pick the lock with a shoelace. She thought of the boy who she saved during the protest. I did something for someone. That is good!