Ice

Little did I realise what ICE were going to be doing in American cities. I was looking into the future:

The camps were full to bursting. Rows of prefabricated huts extruded from some strange alienplastic-like material extended into the distance like some battery hen egg-producing factories. Inside was just as orderly and mechanised in the most sterile manner imaginable. The huts were crammed full of bunk beds made of the same alloy, each equipped with a mattress, single pillow and sheet. The amenities were shared – toilets and wash basins all made of strange alien fabrics. Everything was very basic and austere. They worked and did the job but that was all.

The lack of a perimeter wire was the camps only redeeming feature. The inmates, all dressed in the same single-piece tunics, were contained by an invisible containing barrier. There were no entrances or exits visible. Nothing could come in and nothing went out through that undetectable partition. The alien craft landed vertically into a central reception area. That was the only commerce.

Each massive block was managed by a single lizard who paid scant attention to what was going on inside their domain. Their function seemed largely ornamental. They were there to register a presence and perhaps record what went on. Their one task was to oversee a delivery of bland untextured alien food three times a day. Otherwise they ignored the inmates and what they got up to. In the event of fights they would appear and wait for it to be over, watching with interest. The injured would be removed without any repercussions for the offenders. Even when horrible weapons were constructed and inmates killed nothing was done about it. Law, rules and regulations were left to the inmates to implement. The inmates were left to organise themselves, no attention was paid to the distribution of food, condition of the toilets and wash areas or any form of entertainment. That was also left to the inmates. Once a week bedding was changed, apart from that it was a free-for-all that rapidly descended into a survival of the fittest. A recipe for disaster.

Almost as if someone had designed the kind of pressure cooker likely to explode.

Most of the guards were nine foot Giforians with a smattering of slightly smaller Drefs. They seemed impervious to physical attack, brushing assailants away like flies, and equally impervious to cries for help. If anything they found the antics of their charges either amusing or repulsive. They made no attempt to indulge in any interplay.

Inside the huts no distinction was made between the inmates – rich, poor, famous, criminal, male, female they were all heaped in together, supplied with the same tunics and left to organise themselves. It proved fertile ground for squabbles, baiting, bullying, rape and intimidation that broke down into regular nasty fights. Some huts were orderly otherswere run by various factions who organised things for the benefit of a ruthless minority. The strongest and meanest prevailed.

Every few minutes more craft would arrive to spill out their cargoes of furious or bewildered people who were crammed in to the over full huts. The strange glassy bunks were pushed closer together and more crammed in. Feeble attempts were made at privacy with sheets pinned up and ‘inmates’ with nothing to do sat listlessly or dozed on their bunks. The basic, tasteless food was picked over and only consumed out of hunger. Entertainment was restricted to a stroll between huts and gossip with fellow inmates. Some tried to keep themselves fit through a fitness regime but most lazed around listlessly and grew increasingly despondent. There were three main topics of conversation: why had they all been singled out? Where were they going? What was going to happen to them?

An air of anger, violence and fear hung over the camps. It was waiting to ignite.

On arrival the newcomers were processed by big lumbering Leff who scanned, cross-checked DNA, chipped, vaccinated and sorted them in a perfunctory manner. They were then roughly led to their new ‘homes’. Most were so stunned by what had happened that they moved through the process in a trance. Occasionally someone would break down into a fit of hysterics or resist, arguing fiercely, shouting, ranting, beating at one of the reptiles or attempting to run away. They were roughly manhandled and brought back into line. It was soon apparent that the lizards were faster and stronger and seemed completely impervious to pleas or attacks. Resistance was futile. The troopers had a job to do and they intended to do it. They carried out their role dispassionately.

The boredom did nothing to lift the air of hostility that gripped the place. There was nobody to turn to for help, nobody to ask, no questions answered. They were left to stew, to wonder why they were here and what was going to happen to them. Conspiracies festered.