Sanctuary.

She initiated her sign language password. And the big screen monitor morphed from its midnight saver into reflector mode.  She stretched her mouth wide open.  She smiled.  She frowned.  Squeezed her eyes shut until she could feel the humming in her ears.  Inhaled a deep breath.  Then let her face go stone cold.  Her body stirred in precise deliberate movements, while her voice went into an automated mode of commands and responses.  At length she felt secure with her superficial exercise.  She scoffed at her uniform.  Her plastic metal guise.  She blew a kiss at the mirror and her image disappeared into its rekindled blackness.

SM Unit 1-18T.

Time to get my act together. 

(From the short story White Box)