Keeping Track of Silence - Hawk

[hawk]

June 3, 2300
Apparently, this 'Menagerie' compound was my choice of two evils. Better than prison, but it sure as hell has a longer sentence. I was not told that I would be going to a military-grade Freak Containment Unit. Didn't care, at the time. I don't know now, though...I might be fine, or I might be ground up into Spam and fed to all the other crazy inmates. God knows how they ended up here, but nobody wants to talk so I figure I'm better off shutting up.

Schedule's stable, for now...I've had three meals today, perfect food group portions, down to the last grain of salt. The stuff smells rancid but tastes fine...so either we're all being poisoned in order to purify the human race, or Martha Stewart's teaching the Tasmanian Devil how to cook. Either way, I'd rather be full of toxins than have to teach myself to hunt for food...it's a wasteland in this dome, worthy of the apocalypse and all four of his friends. I can hardly imagine shifting into this air...it's recycled and smells like shit all the time, even while I'm human, so I'm not eager to test my doggie nose out in the open just yet. I'll just have to see how it goes.