Post by Queen of Hearts on Mar 5, 2008 11:45:22 GMT -5
by Baron
::Six years of planning and organizing this single flicker in time; so very minute in contrast to the decades that had come before it. There was no formal gathering, no meeting place, no singular moment where each carrier assembled at the same table. No one had known the other any better than they would know a passing stranger. Faces had long since seemed to mute and blur making everyone appear exactly the same, or at least... they had for him. Over the latest installment of some low end entertainment magazine the quiet, albeit polite, intrusion of the stewardess drew her own face's uniqueness forward from the sea of replicates around her. 'Can I get you something to drink Sir?' she asked patiently through a genuine smile. He donned his own softened smile, light blue eyes echoed endearment with a nearly fracturing yet quick blink "uh-water, if you would be so kind?" almost unsure of his own reply and she with a bobbing sort of nod was off about her business tending to the other passengers.
Settling back with eyes falling in a hazy return to a magazine that had served to distract him from the searing agonizing sorrow bubbling lowly within darkened recesses of his very human heart. The mind wandered aimlessly over knowing that he and the others would be heralded as mere murderers for an act of unparalleled kindness. It made his voice sound so small to him whenever he uttered simple words to friends, loved ones and people like the stewardess. Ships passing on the open ocean in the dead of night. Not a moment had passed since the start of this where he thought for even a flicker that he'd be remembered as anything less than the devil incarnate. He hoped that a survivor might see this act as visionary as Hitler's team of elite scientists and doctors who's human trials and testing had paved the way for advancements in modern medicine... advancements that saved the same countless thousands of lives they had destroyed in development. But he wouldn't dare be so convoluted to think anyone would forgive him for this.
Without the lives lost the drastic change needed to spare future generations from the lethal addiction to physical weakness, decadence and overindulgence would never be set into motion. Those with compromised immune systems due to disease or birth-defect would be hit hard and fast, the healthy and strong would only have a thirty percent chance of survival. Such a minor fraction for such an overly populated world that could not possibly support the millions being birthed this very second. The economy known would crumble, businesses would systematically shut down and life, all the standard understanding of common man would crumble like a house of cards under the smallest whisper from a child. The eggs were in the process of being broken in order to make an omelet on a global scale. Everyone that boarded the plane with him as the stewardess again brought back a pleasant smile with a bottled water, screwing off the cap and settling it on a napkin... each muted face on this flight would be remembered as a victim. His calm thanks as she flitted back busily to her employ while his stomach churned violently to the mere thought of breast implants and Botox... the magazine rejected in lieu of staring at the blackness through the window.
The sickening thought was how one could allow themselves to be human while stripping another of the right just because bored housewives and teenagers wished fame enough to stalk public figures who in turn abused themselves just to stay in their favor. Emulation, not flattery, but a crime... stripping away one's own uniqueness by encasing it within the visage of another. Starving, chemically enslaved, pain ridden, hollow and empty husks of a former humanity but that was a very small piece of the puzzle. The minor cogs were the rest of the people on this flight, the greater cog sat in first class loathing himself, the present and the future as each person breathed his air pushed through the plane's filtration system. In three days each person on this flight would develop a cough as their mucus membranes kicked into overdrive trying to flush the strand from their system. By seven days everyone they came into contact with would develop the same and within two weeks each and every last man woman and child would be a carrier while in the advanced stages of the infection. There would be few survivors...
but there would be some.
Some to carry out the rest of their lives knowing, at their numbers, the world would recover from the previous enumeration. Hopefully they would not follow the same paths, make the same mistakes but rather take this gift and cultivate a future rather than looking for places to hide because they slaughtered their divine host. He idly sipping his water as a pain shot up his side mercilessly. A light cringe to him as he stilled with a minor coil in pause... he too would die. Somewhere within his core his white blood-cells en-mass sat reprogramming themselves to see one another as the virus itself. Had it not been for his impending demise his motives for a round trip flight around the world may have been questioned. One of the few perfect candidates to carry the apocalypse. Kidney failure had been on the horizon and his doctors had told him a transplant along with immunosuppresive drug therapy before hand was required for him to continue his life... though a suitable donor was no where to be found. As it sat his immune system was in overdrive from the failed Islet cell transplantation to his liver... if he did manage to fight the infection he'd die shortly after everyone else.
He thought it only fair though locked away in the mind as the shooting pain subsided. The difference between a scientists and a sociopath... a scientist knows the good of the many will always outweigh the good of the few. That his life, accounts for nothing when the future of humankind is staring back at him. A sociopath would have the cure surging within in his own bloodstream in the interest of his own survival. In the interest of his own beliefs on the matter, he too was one of those diseased he thought to wipe from the face of this world. For the past seven years of his life he was unable to survive on his own without intervention from the medical profession. Diabetic from birth his own body retaliated violently against itself, against the food he ate and the very air he breathed. The shooting pain a now constant reminder that he had no right to future generations... without a doctors supervision he'd have died off long ago. Darwin rolling over in his very grave each and every time his fiance brought up wanting a child. A tale best left in the shattered past of a future built on a shaken and decaying foundation.
Each layover he paused to stare out at the cityscape set out before him. The mind awash in mourning both the present and what was to become of the future only to turn a chilled shoulder and pass like a ghost through the populated commons to board the next flight. One would think at a point regret would sneak in on him if only for a moment but the hollow and emptiness inside left no room for pause. It had all been weighed, measured, consumed and assumed long before this moment in time... there was no internal debate, no seconds pause for rethinking what was already set into motion. Even if someone leaked information the progression of the project was unstoppable, hundreds already carriers, passing it on with a sneeze here, a cough there, the mere whispered kiss little more than a silent but resounding death knell. Each take off and landing became more and more... less and less until the final destination was reached. He, waiting out the passing time in the stillness of a meager cabin somewhere on the coast of Vashon Island so very near the starting line of the apocalypse.
Secluded and alone as the wires lit up with chatter of the spreading illness. A trickling report here and there at first from the mouths of reputable newscasters. Day by day the chatter progressed, first talk of a hopeful cure, then a calling out of the butchers bill, people in brilliant white Hazmat suits vastly overtaking every last image blazon on the television. Hundreds dead turned into thousands until finally the lights flickered and the wires went dead silent. A somber sigh laid over a cup of luke warm green tea as the thoughts raged within his head. Disturbed only to cough behind his hand and a change in mental gears as he stood consumed by the fine red dots now gracing the pale yellow hue of his palm. Many of the angels were still in working order as the condition progressed at a slower rate than the mutated versions as it passed from person to person. It was designed to gather speed and potency from one host to the next until finally... man, woman and child dropped within mere hours rather than a slow progression. It was only a matter of time that survivors would put the pieces together and he would be put to task for answers. He did nothing but wait in the calm though the sheen of a Beretta lay at rest on the desk in the study calling to his nature... ignored by his guilt.::
::Six years of planning and organizing this single flicker in time; so very minute in contrast to the decades that had come before it. There was no formal gathering, no meeting place, no singular moment where each carrier assembled at the same table. No one had known the other any better than they would know a passing stranger. Faces had long since seemed to mute and blur making everyone appear exactly the same, or at least... they had for him. Over the latest installment of some low end entertainment magazine the quiet, albeit polite, intrusion of the stewardess drew her own face's uniqueness forward from the sea of replicates around her. 'Can I get you something to drink Sir?' she asked patiently through a genuine smile. He donned his own softened smile, light blue eyes echoed endearment with a nearly fracturing yet quick blink "uh-water, if you would be so kind?" almost unsure of his own reply and she with a bobbing sort of nod was off about her business tending to the other passengers.
Settling back with eyes falling in a hazy return to a magazine that had served to distract him from the searing agonizing sorrow bubbling lowly within darkened recesses of his very human heart. The mind wandered aimlessly over knowing that he and the others would be heralded as mere murderers for an act of unparalleled kindness. It made his voice sound so small to him whenever he uttered simple words to friends, loved ones and people like the stewardess. Ships passing on the open ocean in the dead of night. Not a moment had passed since the start of this where he thought for even a flicker that he'd be remembered as anything less than the devil incarnate. He hoped that a survivor might see this act as visionary as Hitler's team of elite scientists and doctors who's human trials and testing had paved the way for advancements in modern medicine... advancements that saved the same countless thousands of lives they had destroyed in development. But he wouldn't dare be so convoluted to think anyone would forgive him for this.
Without the lives lost the drastic change needed to spare future generations from the lethal addiction to physical weakness, decadence and overindulgence would never be set into motion. Those with compromised immune systems due to disease or birth-defect would be hit hard and fast, the healthy and strong would only have a thirty percent chance of survival. Such a minor fraction for such an overly populated world that could not possibly support the millions being birthed this very second. The economy known would crumble, businesses would systematically shut down and life, all the standard understanding of common man would crumble like a house of cards under the smallest whisper from a child. The eggs were in the process of being broken in order to make an omelet on a global scale. Everyone that boarded the plane with him as the stewardess again brought back a pleasant smile with a bottled water, screwing off the cap and settling it on a napkin... each muted face on this flight would be remembered as a victim. His calm thanks as she flitted back busily to her employ while his stomach churned violently to the mere thought of breast implants and Botox... the magazine rejected in lieu of staring at the blackness through the window.
The sickening thought was how one could allow themselves to be human while stripping another of the right just because bored housewives and teenagers wished fame enough to stalk public figures who in turn abused themselves just to stay in their favor. Emulation, not flattery, but a crime... stripping away one's own uniqueness by encasing it within the visage of another. Starving, chemically enslaved, pain ridden, hollow and empty husks of a former humanity but that was a very small piece of the puzzle. The minor cogs were the rest of the people on this flight, the greater cog sat in first class loathing himself, the present and the future as each person breathed his air pushed through the plane's filtration system. In three days each person on this flight would develop a cough as their mucus membranes kicked into overdrive trying to flush the strand from their system. By seven days everyone they came into contact with would develop the same and within two weeks each and every last man woman and child would be a carrier while in the advanced stages of the infection. There would be few survivors...
but there would be some.
Some to carry out the rest of their lives knowing, at their numbers, the world would recover from the previous enumeration. Hopefully they would not follow the same paths, make the same mistakes but rather take this gift and cultivate a future rather than looking for places to hide because they slaughtered their divine host. He idly sipping his water as a pain shot up his side mercilessly. A light cringe to him as he stilled with a minor coil in pause... he too would die. Somewhere within his core his white blood-cells en-mass sat reprogramming themselves to see one another as the virus itself. Had it not been for his impending demise his motives for a round trip flight around the world may have been questioned. One of the few perfect candidates to carry the apocalypse. Kidney failure had been on the horizon and his doctors had told him a transplant along with immunosuppresive drug therapy before hand was required for him to continue his life... though a suitable donor was no where to be found. As it sat his immune system was in overdrive from the failed Islet cell transplantation to his liver... if he did manage to fight the infection he'd die shortly after everyone else.
He thought it only fair though locked away in the mind as the shooting pain subsided. The difference between a scientists and a sociopath... a scientist knows the good of the many will always outweigh the good of the few. That his life, accounts for nothing when the future of humankind is staring back at him. A sociopath would have the cure surging within in his own bloodstream in the interest of his own survival. In the interest of his own beliefs on the matter, he too was one of those diseased he thought to wipe from the face of this world. For the past seven years of his life he was unable to survive on his own without intervention from the medical profession. Diabetic from birth his own body retaliated violently against itself, against the food he ate and the very air he breathed. The shooting pain a now constant reminder that he had no right to future generations... without a doctors supervision he'd have died off long ago. Darwin rolling over in his very grave each and every time his fiance brought up wanting a child. A tale best left in the shattered past of a future built on a shaken and decaying foundation.
Each layover he paused to stare out at the cityscape set out before him. The mind awash in mourning both the present and what was to become of the future only to turn a chilled shoulder and pass like a ghost through the populated commons to board the next flight. One would think at a point regret would sneak in on him if only for a moment but the hollow and emptiness inside left no room for pause. It had all been weighed, measured, consumed and assumed long before this moment in time... there was no internal debate, no seconds pause for rethinking what was already set into motion. Even if someone leaked information the progression of the project was unstoppable, hundreds already carriers, passing it on with a sneeze here, a cough there, the mere whispered kiss little more than a silent but resounding death knell. Each take off and landing became more and more... less and less until the final destination was reached. He, waiting out the passing time in the stillness of a meager cabin somewhere on the coast of Vashon Island so very near the starting line of the apocalypse.
Secluded and alone as the wires lit up with chatter of the spreading illness. A trickling report here and there at first from the mouths of reputable newscasters. Day by day the chatter progressed, first talk of a hopeful cure, then a calling out of the butchers bill, people in brilliant white Hazmat suits vastly overtaking every last image blazon on the television. Hundreds dead turned into thousands until finally the lights flickered and the wires went dead silent. A somber sigh laid over a cup of luke warm green tea as the thoughts raged within his head. Disturbed only to cough behind his hand and a change in mental gears as he stood consumed by the fine red dots now gracing the pale yellow hue of his palm. Many of the angels were still in working order as the condition progressed at a slower rate than the mutated versions as it passed from person to person. It was designed to gather speed and potency from one host to the next until finally... man, woman and child dropped within mere hours rather than a slow progression. It was only a matter of time that survivors would put the pieces together and he would be put to task for answers. He did nothing but wait in the calm though the sheen of a Beretta lay at rest on the desk in the study calling to his nature... ignored by his guilt.::