The Universe's Mixer

Close your eyes, go to sleep,
Baby's in the cradle counting sheep.
Climb up to your house of dreams,
Baby's in the cradle fast asleep.

"Should I die before I wake..." His voice was raspy, crawling up from the back of his throat.

On his face he wore the expression of a man void of life. Like a prisoner in line for the airlock. Downtrodden. Degraded. Lacking of sentiment. He tore the bedding from the brig's mattress into long strips. The ripping of the fabric echoed against the cold metal walls, but the guard was on the other side of the door, pretending he couldn't hear. Six appeared beside him in her red dress. But Gaius seemed to have no interest in the sultry way in which she sat beside him, with her legs spread just enough to spark curiosity, or in the low cut, bust revealing top that needed little force to break her cleavage free of its thin strapped hold. There was concern on her face.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Improvising."

"You're doing the right thing, Gaius," she comforted, a delicate hand placed on his bicep to encourage him. Then she drew her fingers through his hair, tucking the longer strands back behind his ear.

"Yes," he replied, almost as if on auto-pilot. He tied the last knot into his handmade noose, stood up, and fastened the rope around one of the crossbeams. Then he slipped the loop around his neck.
( It's time to learn the truth. )

[Occurs thirty-three minutes before The Meeting]