Early rough draft of a short story I'm working on, and the visual to go with it.
You're looking at a 900 mile ball. A prison drifting in space. Made of glowing translucent red metal machines, some kind of factory. Located in a air pocket of outer space. The right oxygen, temperature, and gravity for human comfort. Strangers awoke on this space station at different times, with no known reason or common attributes. Wearing normal clothes, holding normal items. Regular earth humans, forced to adapt and find nutrients in a seemingly endless mess of intricate robotic machinery. There's no day or night, no stars, no animals. The sky varies from light blue to yellow to deep red, with infrequent other colors when the machines are making unique humming sounds. Pockets of glitter-like dust drift through the air. There is a slight breeze, as if the machine is providing Earth-like comforts. The machines are almost like a jumbled bag of coat hangers, with no path ways. There are suction tubes which have been identified as intended for septic suction, fresh water, and odd tasting nutrients. Humans have been awaking here for 20 years, and there's no way back to Earth.