Slavery is a vile thing. When I was born into it through the death of my mother I knew to survive it I would have to become selfish. In a way, everyone was out for themselves. Those taskmasters were driving us for our masters in order to gain favor or money, always whipping and punishing the slaves who performed the worst. The slaves were always in competition not to be the worst to prevent becoming punished. I became one of the same eventually surviving and becoming freed. Now that I was back in it with the damn ziggurat I was determined to not just survive but help the others whom I helped become free in the desert. I
It was strange to be a part of a group. Being born for slavery I was able to pull up the slack for those who were physically weaker. At first I was unsure how long some of them would manage but discovered they had other ways of helping the group by getting extra water or developing friendships by helping other slaves defend themselves. We worked and sweat in the hot sun. We watched others die and we survived.