Prison wasn’t so bad once you learned to ignore everything about it. Kvioh had lost track of the number of months she’d been locked in this same metal bubble. After the first three months, she’d just stopped keeping track and found other ways to pass the time. Her cell was only about two meters across. Strips of lights across the ceiling turned on and off at regular intervals, approximating a day/night cycle. The curving walls boasted everything a crazed killer like herself might want: a toilet, a sink, a bed which doubled as a seat. Capsules about the size of
