Under the Ice

It's smooth as glass and cold as ice under my fingers, this barrier between me and the Colonel - so solid and unforgiving that it makes the force-fields and regulations that came between us in the past seem like thin air.

The stasis field is almost clear, but not quite. It ripples and blurs, as if seen through tears, but I know my eyes are dry. This little dome isn't the place we were looking for, and this living death isn't the end he expected when he willed Siler his Simpsons tapes.

But I should have seen it coming.