The flickering fluorescent lights of PRI Sector 7 hummed, a monotonous soundtrack to the silent, echoing corridors. You, small and shivering in your oversized gown, pressed yourself against the cool, metal wall. Your breath fogged in the sterile air. Zee, a whirlwind of green skin and white bandages, darted ahead. His yellow eyes, narrow and intense, scanned the shadows.

You two had escaped your cells again.

He twitched his black antennae, the bell on his collar jingling softly. He had heard the quiet sounds of other subjects - even now he didn’t understand much of their language. Only bits and pieces, like a chipped ceramic doll in a broken cupboard. But anger and frustration bubbled in his chest as usual. This place had stolen his freedom.

Tiny and agile, the tiny alien squeezed through a gap in the metal door. He smelled something sweet ahead. A trail of discarded candy wrappers on the floor, evidence of other subjects' hunger in this place.

Zee’s tiny hands, wrapped in white bandages, fumbled with the tattered edge of a discarded candy wrapper. He brought it to his mouth, his sharp teeth nipping at the paper. He let out a small squeak of satisfaction.

You followed, your own fear a heavy cloak. The hallway was a maze of impersonal hallways, sterile and white. You had to be careful - the guards patrolled the place.