Free The Loss (Zombie Ocean Book 4) by Michael John Grist Page B

all goes well, you'll be discovering them for years to come."
    "But why? Why keep it a trick?"
    He looked at her with an appraising eye. "You're an expert in this field, confinement psychology, correct? You tell me."
    Her mind raced. Was this another interview? Perhaps the whole thing was a big fake-out to see if she really had the chops. She thought back through all her studies and research and tried to make sense of what she was seeing before her. It looked more like the lobby to a lovely hotel resort than an underground bunker. Someone had gone wild with the interior-decorating project.
    But then…
    "Swedish prisons," she blurted.
    Mecklarin tilted his head appreciatively, as if to say 'go on.'
    "Colonies are much like prisons," she said, her mind racing ahead, "a place you can't leave. Traditional prisons are brutal and utilitarian, full of unfriendly guards and blank concrete walls. Not a lot of color." She made the connection. "And all the past colonies we've seen, like the Biospheres, the Habitat on Mauna Loa in Hawaii, they were just like prisons. No color, no frivolity, only the most basic, rudimentary facilities. Swedish prisons though, they're less punitive and more about reaching towards something better. They encourage and rehabilitate."
    Mecklarin smiled. "I need to be careful. You're pulling the curtain back on Oz. Keep going, please."
    She was on a roll. "But that's no way to live ten years. This many people signing on for the most exciting experiment of their lives, then facing that kind of privation? You'd have a riot within six months. Prison is a fragile balance at the best of times, with a powerful system of carrots and sticks. But you can't do that kind of brutality with volunteers, because their good intentions will only take you so far. People need to be motivated, so you've made…" She trailed off.
    "Made what?" he pressed.
    She didn't know because so far she'd only seen one room, but now she could guess. Cruise ships were a kind of prison, but most people weren't hungering to escape them. Theme parks were a kind of day-prison, but people stayed and loved them. High-tech companies like Google had been encouraging their employees to stay at work round the clock since 2008, with highly attractive themed zones, decorative relaxation areas, great food, generous amenities and even slides to zip between zones.
    "A theme park," she said, shooting into the dark. "Themed zones. Some kind of system to allow for exploration, spread across the full ten years. Tricks like your breeze through the window. A cruise ship's worth of entertainment. Enough stuff to keep us looking inward for the full duration, without any thought of what's out there."
    He raised his hands and gave a slow clap, with a look of genuine pleasure in his eyes.
    "You have nailed it right on the head, Salle Coram. I am glad you're here; your predecessor had to have all of that explained to her. Well done."
    She blushed under his gaze. "But that would be prohibitively expensive," she said. "Space flight is all about the cost to lift every single pound of weight. How can you justify the expense?"
    "Ah, a mechanical engineer as well?" Mecklarin asked, clearly delighted. "Someone's been doing their research. Of course you are right, but then you're mixing up your priorities in the same way they always have, fundamentally misunderstanding what a colony is. Space flight up to the International Space Station, it's for a year max, and those people are coming back. They can grin and bear the misery for the respect and glory they'll get upon their return. The Earth is waiting. But colonists? All they've got is what they take with them, and we all know there's nothing on Mars."
    Salle's mind sped on. "But what about the pilgrims on the Mayflower? They didn't have widescreen TVs. They didn't know what they would find in the Americas."
    Mecklarin wagged a finger. "Precisely. You're quite right. But then, crossing the Atlantic didn't take ten years, did it?