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Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Order! Order in the court! The defendant, Ernst Yeates will now hereby willingly pay the plaintiff, Charlotte Reede 80% of his salary, and will lose the full custody of his children." declares the judge in a strong and clear voice. He cracks down the hammer, defeating me in a single blow.
The silence is unbearable. A pin drop could have broken such fragile silence in an instant. Fortunately, makes a decision to break it. The great clock above the judge chimes a merry jingle, the bell resonating four times. The effect is almost instantaneous; everyone scrambles around looking for something.
A red label dictates our ingestion timetable: "One pill per hour, whilst awake, for the duration of the pandemic." I swallow the curious pink pill that now acts as our timekeeping devices. I choke on mine. Nervously, I tip my glass of water back down my gullet. I slam the glass down on the table, and swallow hard, my head hung low. Looking up, I see her, the person I once loved the most in the whole world. I look at her, closer. She looks gorgeous, all dressed up like that.
I still remember the day I bought her that dress. Such joy, such happiness, such love she gave to that dress, and she had to go off and wear it today. All the beauty has disappeared. Not only in our lives, but in everyone else's.
Three years ago, my life was perfect. I was earning good money in a pharmaceutical company, called MediCorp, managing everyone's accounts, and payments. I worked well, and worked hard. I came home to a loving family in east Manhattan, as she always finished work before I did.
A "Wonder Weapon Against Death" was developed. The principle was simple: aging occurs because the caps on our chromosomes erode when multiplying, and if they reach the DNA, it erodes the genetic data. This "Super Weapon" regrows the caps. It was developed in secret, away from prying eyes. Upon it's release, the new bacterial cure was sensational: competitiors started immediate work on their own cure. Sales skyrocketed and the shareholder values exceeded all expectations. Soon after, the government got involved, and demanded MediCorp to give it 50% of the earnings from the cure.
MediCorp then started to cut corners, using slightly different, cheaper methods and chemicals. The cure backfired drastically, reducing the DNA strands down in less than an hour, removing all traces of how the body should grow, and develop. The bacterium then set it's own genetic data in the nucleus.
At first, no one noticed, but then, their bodies dried up and decayed from lack of blood. A lack of white blood cells meant that any bacteria or virus flourished within the body, and the "bacterium X" hijacked the human cells to reproduce the bacteria. Those who injected themselves with "The Wonder Cure" died a not so wonderous death, holed up in a quarantined house, festering alive. Only the rich could afford them, and most of the pompous high class died. In one day, the bacteria eradicated 5% of the world population, clearing much of the richer cities of their inhabitants. Emergency protocols were imposed in different countries. Borders were sealed, and martial law imposed.
MediCorp instantly went bankrupt. With the CEO's bank account reserves, they developed a cure to the bacterium. It didn't remove the bacteria from the patient, but it rebuilt the DNA the cells lost. The bacterium itself could never die. The cure received government approval, and was declared the official cure. All other pharmaceutical companies were outlawed. Martial law included taking these pink pills, once per hour. Something fishy was definitely going on. I wonder if it could be...
"Ernst? Hey, Ernst?" queries a soft voice. It resonated around my skull, until I woke up as to where I actually was, still stuck in a country with martial law imposed, quarantined from the rest of the world from fear of contracting a much more serious strain of bacteria. We have no foreign embassies, we have no connection to the outside world. We simply assume the worst: that the US is the only country with a stable government, that isn't stuggling, that isn't dying from invincible, mutated bacteria. It makes life easier to bear.
"Ernst?" the voice asks again. This time, I find where the voice is coming from. I look at her, her beauty makes everything around her shine. I avoid her gaze, bringing my head down, looking at all the papers scattered across the table.
"I'm so sorry. I just need it, but not only for me, for the kids. We may not love each other, but we love our children, don't we?" I do nothing. I merely search for her eyes, something to hold me stable.
"Yes, yes I do, but 80? You have a job as well, why 80?" I dig deeper into her, to find what secrets she has buried deep within herself.
"You don't need to know. Just know that I will be there if you need me." She drops her voice to a whisper, and leans closer towards me. "That 80 isn't for me or the kids, it's for something bigger than us." She stands up straight and speaks louder. "Now, don't worry, you can deal with it. You're an accountant. You will be able to see the kids twice a month. Goodbye." She strides away, leaving everything she once stood for behind her. Including me.
I walk home. The police hang around every important avenue, armed with automatics. They don't do anything, they just stand there, waiting for another case to happen, for another intervention to display their skills as a team. New York, once a thriving, breathing metropolis, now appears dead. Lights are turned off one by one, as the policies invade our lives. 5th Avenue now looks like a ghost town, without people, without cars, without intentions.
I arrive at my flat. Well, a penthouse really. The death of the upper class led to a massive housing market crash, as people left the cities in fear. I look out at the dark skyline of New York. Who could think that this was once a bustling city? Could this city be like my life? Where I, like the city, die without anybody living in it? I work to pay my food, my bills, my heavy taxes, nothing more, not even those pink pills. I'm working to give money to my ex-wife's savings account. I should leave, never to come back. If I'm going to die, I might as well see the rest of the world. I pack my bags and leave.
The docks should be this way, past the next block. I make my way over, only to see the police lights flashing in front of me. I look around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. I start sprinting away. I haven't run in years, and I feel *alive*. The police notice me, and flip the sirens on. Running from the howling of the sirens, I head towards the water. There's a speedboat docked to the quay. It may be old, it may be rusting, but it's my only hope at my escape. A second squad car screeches from my right, headed straight at me. A flight of stairs block my path to the boat. I jump down the stairs, only to crumble upon my landing. I don't care if I'm bleeding, I don't care if I'm hurt, I must run.
I manage to struggle to the boat, panting for breath. The blue lights stop at the top of the docks. The keys must be here somewhere, hidden in the pile of clothes which was once a rich man. I grab them. Turning the keys, a tannoy voice shouts. "Stop running! Stop, in the name of the law! Or we will be forced to fire upon you!"
I turn the accelerator up, and the engine splutters to life. The racking of guns behind me was supposed to be a deterrent, but I'm too deep into this now, I need to go. As I speed away, the bullets start coming. The metal paneling of the boat protects me from most of harm, but I only need one well placed bullet for me to die, not that death has much meaning to me. A helicopter flies overhead, illuminating the boat. A single shot comes from the helicopter, but it's all I need. It strikes me in my back, shredding through my duffel bag, and lodging itself in my side. I fall down. The boat still speeds ahead, through the choppy ocean. I can't feel anything. Numbness overcomes all my senses, as I close my eyes, for the last time, I hope.
The pale blue sky is the only thing I see upon waking. No clouds, no waves. Pain. Pain is everything I feel. I get up. I look behind me. A giant ship looms over me. Many hearty faces look down at me. A voice calls out, telling me to not panic, that they are here to rescue me. A rope ladder tumbles down the side of the ship and splashes into the water. The voice tells me to climb it. I comply reluctantly, uncertain of my fate.
When I get to the top, a man dressed in a captain's uniform greets me with a grand smile through his mighty beard. "How's it going then, eh? Good thing we saved you when we did, the waves will be choppy tonight, don't want ou going overboard!"
The captain grins at me.
"I'm not...dead?" I whisper, my throat dry and puckered from lack of water.
"Dead? Well you're talking to me, so, no!" He lets out a mighty laugh. Everyone else around him chuckles.
"But I haven't been taking my medication... My body isn't dead yet?" I pull out the box of pills. The captain grabs the box and looks carefully at it. "What's this, then?" he asks, curious.
"Drugs to save my life. My cells are dying, and this helps stop it. The pandemic? MediCorp?" I struggle to speak.
"The MediCorp Pandemic? We cured that years ago! These pills taste like oranges, so it sounds like you solved it too!"
I'm lost. Why would the government lie? Why would they confine us to living like rats? I don't know, and will never find out. I collapse from lack of blood. The sky is so blue, so pretty. If only I could live a little longer...
(Edit: Finally finished the story!) | 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | 23rd April 2189
I have no money left thanks to that stupid drug of there's. "If you want to live take these, forever" and they actually meant forever. It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't so dam expensive. I have no more money tomorrow's dose. I accept my fate and will die in peace knowing no one will miss me
24th April 2189
I have been feeling terrible through out all of this day. Vomiting. Coughing..... Bleeding. I was not expecting this to kick in so fast. I knew people died but I though I would at least have some time. This is most likely my final entry. I will now take a long deserved rest. Let's hope the cross wind don't blow rain under the bridge.
May 5 2189
Everything seems hazy. I don't know what's happened. I've slept for so long. I've asked a pass buyer what day it was and its seems it's been almost 2 weeks. How is this possible? I don't understand ! It's been on the news all the time people dyeing as soon as they take the course. I don't understand !! I NEES TO TELL EVERYONE
May 6
I've told everyone I saw. Running though town shouting to the world that the pharmacy company is lying ! It's all lies! Your body can fight this disease on its own. No need for the drugs. They only told us this to keep us hooked !
May 24
The night after my revelation, I was stormed by a team of 4 men dressed in white and blunged to an inch of my life. Woke up in a clear white room. Sterile. Silent. I was strapped down to a doctors table unable to move. I heard a door open behind me. Footsteps and the sound of wheels followed. A team of 2 people stood in front of me. Dressed in white as before but these look more like doctors unlike the space soldiers from the retro movies. The one on the left picked a syringe with a needle. Applying pressure to my arm he inserted the needle. I couldn't scream as my mouth was taped shut. The one on the right stepped forward and leaned over me to with 20 cms of my face and whispered: "what's in that syringe will kill you instantly at our will, like a kill switch. Tell anyone about the drug and you'll drop dead on the spot like anyone else". All I remember after is falling back asleep and waking up by my things again.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Well this is awkward."
"What is?" The prostitute lying next to me replied. She rolled over and propped herself up on one bruised elbow. In the cold, morning light she looked worse than she had bathed in the sick, drunken neon of the night before.
"I'm pretty sure I should be dead," I replied.
I'd picked her up the night before at a shitty bar in the shitty end of town. For the evening, she'd cost me all I had left minus a bottle of tequila, and for the rest of the evening we were partners in petty crime.
We threw bricks through my ex-wife's, boryfriend's car windscreen. Taken a drunken walk to the tax office and pissed up against their window. Sung loudly into the dreary night and screamed the names of the people we hated into an open drain. I didn't know hers and I thought there was a kind of poetry in that anonymity. We'd made a connection without that first, fundemental part. We didn't have any type of heart warming, rom-com bullshit moment where we realised the sum of our life choices. We just had a good time and that was good enough.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached down for her bag. She got her medication out and popped today's pills.
"Hey," I said. "Did you give me one of those last night?"
She turned and shot me a derisory look. "No, why would I do that?"
I consider opening up to her, telling her that the sickness should have started. That the virus should be boiling my blood already, but somehow it isn't. I feel fine. Better than, and that made me nervous.
She shrugged on her bra and went about getting dressed. Somehow, with her professional hours up, she became shy, and that kindled some type of want in me that hadn't been there the previous night.
There were patches of my memory that had been chemically dissolved by the drink and I couldn't help thinking that it was somehow connected. That somehow I had discovered the cure to the virus.
I had a number of pressing problems to deal with first though. I was utterly broke, horrendously hungover, I couldn't find my underwear, and the prostitute had just discovered the body of my ex-wife in my wardrobe.
| Most take time to find what it is they are most passionate about, most take take time to grow into that passion and make it tangible. Not me. From a very early age, I grew into it naturally. My passion was music. At the age of 7 I wrote my first song, while simple and rough, it came from the heart. At the age of ten I joined my first band, where my strings and voice could be heard to the public for the first time. Albeit on an infinitesimal scale. In my early adulthood I misunderstood my passion for a fleeting idea and joined the Air Force. Due to physical complications I was discharged. When I returned to civilian life I did what was the norm for my age, I attended university. Over the course of a couple years however, I came to realize academia was not my jive. In that moment I realized I had only one calling; music.
After that point my career took off quickly, to the point where it seemed like a dream. I defined a genre, some would even say I created my own. My voice represented my soul that touched the population on an international scale. Soon fame became a great importance in my life but, never diluted the power of my art. This ultimately separated me from the other artists in the music industry and made me a legend. Through this emergence came a great monetary gain and like most people, I succumbed to greed. Knuckled under the endless possibilities of wealth, I pursued even more riches by any means possible, one method including ignoring mandated taxes issued by the government. I did pioneer Outlaw Country, after all.
While this was all fine and dandy for a couple of decades, the man caught up with me. He seized all of my assets and I was left with nothing. Backed against a wall,
trouble looming in a cloud of sorrow I had to come up with a solution, something that would make it all right. As fate would have it, it was my passion and the fans who were married to it, would save me. I released an album titled 'The IRS Tapes: Who'll Buy My Memories' that would eventually pay off all my debt to the IRS and ultimately help me dodge time inside. It was through this time that I learned the only things in life that are certain are death and taxes. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I have to go to bed like right now, but here's a quick idea, screenplay-style:
(Yada yada yada, adventuring and such)
George Soros: Yes, you see, it was all a ploy. Sure, the disease causes much pain. But it doesn't really kill you. You see, [gets eye to eye with the main character] fear motivates profit.
(Yada yada yada, George Soros and his Sheeple army are defeated and they bring down the NWO or something)
The End | Most take time to find what it is they are most passionate about, most take take time to grow into that passion and make it tangible. Not me. From a very early age, I grew into it naturally. My passion was music. At the age of 7 I wrote my first song, while simple and rough, it came from the heart. At the age of ten I joined my first band, where my strings and voice could be heard to the public for the first time. Albeit on an infinitesimal scale. In my early adulthood I misunderstood my passion for a fleeting idea and joined the Air Force. Due to physical complications I was discharged. When I returned to civilian life I did what was the norm for my age, I attended university. Over the course of a couple years however, I came to realize academia was not my jive. In that moment I realized I had only one calling; music.
After that point my career took off quickly, to the point where it seemed like a dream. I defined a genre, some would even say I created my own. My voice represented my soul that touched the population on an international scale. Soon fame became a great importance in my life but, never diluted the power of my art. This ultimately separated me from the other artists in the music industry and made me a legend. Through this emergence came a great monetary gain and like most people, I succumbed to greed. Knuckled under the endless possibilities of wealth, I pursued even more riches by any means possible, one method including ignoring mandated taxes issued by the government. I did pioneer Outlaw Country, after all.
While this was all fine and dandy for a couple of decades, the man caught up with me. He seized all of my assets and I was left with nothing. Backed against a wall,
trouble looming in a cloud of sorrow I had to come up with a solution, something that would make it all right. As fate would have it, it was my passion and the fans who were married to it, would save me. I released an album titled 'The IRS Tapes: Who'll Buy My Memories' that would eventually pay off all my debt to the IRS and ultimately help me dodge time inside. It was through this time that I learned the only things in life that are certain are death and taxes. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Well this is awkward."
"What is?" The prostitute lying next to me replied. She rolled over and propped herself up on one bruised elbow. In the cold, morning light she looked worse than she had bathed in the sick, drunken neon of the night before.
"I'm pretty sure I should be dead," I replied.
I'd picked her up the night before at a shitty bar in the shitty end of town. For the evening, she'd cost me all I had left minus a bottle of tequila, and for the rest of the evening we were partners in petty crime.
We threw bricks through my ex-wife's, boryfriend's car windscreen. Taken a drunken walk to the tax office and pissed up against their window. Sung loudly into the dreary night and screamed the names of the people we hated into an open drain. I didn't know hers and I thought there was a kind of poetry in that anonymity. We'd made a connection without that first, fundemental part. We didn't have any type of heart warming, rom-com bullshit moment where we realised the sum of our life choices. We just had a good time and that was good enough.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached down for her bag. She got her medication out and popped today's pills.
"Hey," I said. "Did you give me one of those last night?"
She turned and shot me a derisory look. "No, why would I do that?"
I consider opening up to her, telling her that the sickness should have started. That the virus should be boiling my blood already, but somehow it isn't. I feel fine. Better than, and that made me nervous.
She shrugged on her bra and went about getting dressed. Somehow, with her professional hours up, she became shy, and that kindled some type of want in me that hadn't been there the previous night.
There were patches of my memory that had been chemically dissolved by the drink and I couldn't help thinking that it was somehow connected. That somehow I had discovered the cure to the virus.
I had a number of pressing problems to deal with first though. I was utterly broke, horrendously hungover, I couldn't find my underwear, and the prostitute had just discovered the body of my ex-wife in my wardrobe.
| Your dreams are flooded with images of an unfamiliar life, as the days go by, these dreams manifest as during you're waking life, with almost a deja vu vibe. You cross paths with people you've never met, but are you're you've held conversations. You start to remember memories of a life unfamiliar to you, but it feels more "real" than your last six months of solo factory Work. A wife? You remember having a wife? And a son. Maybe?. You check yourself in to a hospital, unsure which memories are real. The physician looks concerned you've been off the medications so long, and writes a free prescription until you can get back on your feet to pay for it yourself. Now you have a decision, continue with the prescription, or see where the "memories" take you. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Well this is awkward."
"What is?" The prostitute lying next to me replied. She rolled over and propped herself up on one bruised elbow. In the cold, morning light she looked worse than she had bathed in the sick, drunken neon of the night before.
"I'm pretty sure I should be dead," I replied.
I'd picked her up the night before at a shitty bar in the shitty end of town. For the evening, she'd cost me all I had left minus a bottle of tequila, and for the rest of the evening we were partners in petty crime.
We threw bricks through my ex-wife's, boryfriend's car windscreen. Taken a drunken walk to the tax office and pissed up against their window. Sung loudly into the dreary night and screamed the names of the people we hated into an open drain. I didn't know hers and I thought there was a kind of poetry in that anonymity. We'd made a connection without that first, fundemental part. We didn't have any type of heart warming, rom-com bullshit moment where we realised the sum of our life choices. We just had a good time and that was good enough.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached down for her bag. She got her medication out and popped today's pills.
"Hey," I said. "Did you give me one of those last night?"
She turned and shot me a derisory look. "No, why would I do that?"
I consider opening up to her, telling her that the sickness should have started. That the virus should be boiling my blood already, but somehow it isn't. I feel fine. Better than, and that made me nervous.
She shrugged on her bra and went about getting dressed. Somehow, with her professional hours up, she became shy, and that kindled some type of want in me that hadn't been there the previous night.
There were patches of my memory that had been chemically dissolved by the drink and I couldn't help thinking that it was somehow connected. That somehow I had discovered the cure to the virus.
I had a number of pressing problems to deal with first though. I was utterly broke, horrendously hungover, I couldn't find my underwear, and the prostitute had just discovered the body of my ex-wife in my wardrobe.
| The fear gripped me, tearing me from sleep. My god. Serum 9. Leaping from bed I tear down the empty hall, my legs weak and shaking from sleep or the Beast which wound its way around my veins. I could feel the cold and tiredness set into me as I ran down the street to my Toyota. Panic shoots through me as my third alarm rang on my phone, I realise I'm far to late. My body becomes rigid and I fling out my arms in terror. My breath now shallow I have a few seconds to think. My god. I would never fall in love. An eighteen year old boy and I would die in the grey city. I kick myself for not stealing my friends pill when I had the chance. I stop, my knees collapse and I faceplant the hard kerb. As my nose shatters on impact I am thankful for the pain. I feel as though I can fight the numbness climbing from my extremities. I snort blood, my eyes start to close, heart slows down, breathing stops. Warm blood drips down my chin and I stop thinking of myself. I can't fight this. My mum, my poor mum. This happened to my sister only a week ago. A slow, lethargic tear rolls down my throat. My muscles spasm and tense before my legs bend and my arms push my structure up. I do not feel strong. I am not in control. I begin to walk away, down the street and towards the gold, glowing building in the distance. I live less than a mile from the Factory. My body drags itself towards eternal slavery along with ten or so others from my town, FactoryTown Four. I may not be dead, but working for the Factory is worse than death. Conscious and seeing, but trapped inside your own body until it breaks down and walks itself to an incinerator. Then you burn alive. All because you cant afford Serum 9. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I have to go to bed like right now, but here's a quick idea, screenplay-style:
(Yada yada yada, adventuring and such)
George Soros: Yes, you see, it was all a ploy. Sure, the disease causes much pain. But it doesn't really kill you. You see, [gets eye to eye with the main character] fear motivates profit.
(Yada yada yada, George Soros and his Sheeple army are defeated and they bring down the NWO or something)
The End | The darkness covered the city as my weary legs dragged me home from a late shift at the factory. The street lamps were either flickering or burned out, the city didn't have much funding to repair since they decided to subsidize the cost of buying pills. The pills used to cost an arm and a leg to get, the only damn pills to keep people from dying and most people can barely afford them. Fortunately, now they only cost an arm, but that didn't make life better. Crime increased when the city cut half the police force and stopped maintaining the decency of towns. I checked my watch. I was almost late on taking my pill, which I pulled from my pocket, just passed my leather wallet.
A gust of cold wind blew passed me, chilling me through my thin shirt. I began to shiver as I walked looking at my hand holding the pill. No water to take the pill with, I pushed it back in my pocket. Only a few block to go before I got home. I pulled my wallet out, checking on how much money i had. Everything cost and everything was done in cash, no one wantex to be any more a part of the corporate system than they already were paying for pills every day.
From an alley I was walking by came a man, hitting me from the side. I heard several cracks as I felt my ribs break as I flew through the air, my knees falling on the crib, shattering on impact. I screamed in agonizing pain, that likely woke many people nearby. The man did not hesitate and threw several punches, and with each I felt the world darken.
I woke, the sun was rising over the houses and everything seemed quiet. Pain tore through me and my body began to shake. I looked around, trying to find help. Quickly trying to see the damage on my body, I saw my skin, flaking. I remembered the first sign of needing pills, flaking skin.
Trying to get control of my body, I attempted to reach into my pocket. Fumbling several times before getting a finger in, i felt nothing. I did the same with my other pockets, nothing at all. My wallet was gone..."Shit!" I screamed in a mix between anger and agony.
I looked around once more, and saw someone on the other side of the street, walking quickly. "Hey! ... Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Help, I need help!"
I could see them stop through my blurred vision. "How much you gonna pay?" They yelled back.
Fuck this society, i thought to myself. "I can pay you as much as you want after you've..." And before I could finish they were scurrying off and out of site.
I felt my head pulsing as what seemed to be my only hope disappeared from sight. My vision darkened and I closed my eyes, waiting for death. The throbbing and pain began to ease slowly as death took me. I heard a soft noise in the distance as death took me. My eyes flicked open one last time to see the broken world...
Eyes stared back at me, with a smiling face. I glanced around, I was in a white room. "Welcome back to reality! How was you tour in the virtual world?"
*****************
Any Advise? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | The darkness covered the city as my weary legs dragged me home from a late shift at the factory. The street lamps were either flickering or burned out, the city didn't have much funding to repair since they decided to subsidize the cost of buying pills. The pills used to cost an arm and a leg to get, the only damn pills to keep people from dying and most people can barely afford them. Fortunately, now they only cost an arm, but that didn't make life better. Crime increased when the city cut half the police force and stopped maintaining the decency of towns. I checked my watch. I was almost late on taking my pill, which I pulled from my pocket, just passed my leather wallet.
A gust of cold wind blew passed me, chilling me through my thin shirt. I began to shiver as I walked looking at my hand holding the pill. No water to take the pill with, I pushed it back in my pocket. Only a few block to go before I got home. I pulled my wallet out, checking on how much money i had. Everything cost and everything was done in cash, no one wantex to be any more a part of the corporate system than they already were paying for pills every day.
From an alley I was walking by came a man, hitting me from the side. I heard several cracks as I felt my ribs break as I flew through the air, my knees falling on the crib, shattering on impact. I screamed in agonizing pain, that likely woke many people nearby. The man did not hesitate and threw several punches, and with each I felt the world darken.
I woke, the sun was rising over the houses and everything seemed quiet. Pain tore through me and my body began to shake. I looked around, trying to find help. Quickly trying to see the damage on my body, I saw my skin, flaking. I remembered the first sign of needing pills, flaking skin.
Trying to get control of my body, I attempted to reach into my pocket. Fumbling several times before getting a finger in, i felt nothing. I did the same with my other pockets, nothing at all. My wallet was gone..."Shit!" I screamed in a mix between anger and agony.
I looked around once more, and saw someone on the other side of the street, walking quickly. "Hey! ... Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Help, I need help!"
I could see them stop through my blurred vision. "How much you gonna pay?" They yelled back.
Fuck this society, i thought to myself. "I can pay you as much as you want after you've..." And before I could finish they were scurrying off and out of site.
I felt my head pulsing as what seemed to be my only hope disappeared from sight. My vision darkened and I closed my eyes, waiting for death. The throbbing and pain began to ease slowly as death took me. I heard a soft noise in the distance as death took me. My eyes flicked open one last time to see the broken world...
Eyes stared back at me, with a smiling face. I glanced around, I was in a white room. "Welcome back to reality! How was you tour in the virtual world?"
*****************
Any Advise? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | The darkness covered the city as my weary legs dragged me home from a late shift at the factory. The street lamps were either flickering or burned out, the city didn't have much funding to repair since they decided to subsidize the cost of buying pills. The pills used to cost an arm and a leg to get, the only damn pills to keep people from dying and most people can barely afford them. Fortunately, now they only cost an arm, but that didn't make life better. Crime increased when the city cut half the police force and stopped maintaining the decency of towns. I checked my watch. I was almost late on taking my pill, which I pulled from my pocket, just passed my leather wallet.
A gust of cold wind blew passed me, chilling me through my thin shirt. I began to shiver as I walked looking at my hand holding the pill. No water to take the pill with, I pushed it back in my pocket. Only a few block to go before I got home. I pulled my wallet out, checking on how much money i had. Everything cost and everything was done in cash, no one wantex to be any more a part of the corporate system than they already were paying for pills every day.
From an alley I was walking by came a man, hitting me from the side. I heard several cracks as I felt my ribs break as I flew through the air, my knees falling on the crib, shattering on impact. I screamed in agonizing pain, that likely woke many people nearby. The man did not hesitate and threw several punches, and with each I felt the world darken.
I woke, the sun was rising over the houses and everything seemed quiet. Pain tore through me and my body began to shake. I looked around, trying to find help. Quickly trying to see the damage on my body, I saw my skin, flaking. I remembered the first sign of needing pills, flaking skin.
Trying to get control of my body, I attempted to reach into my pocket. Fumbling several times before getting a finger in, i felt nothing. I did the same with my other pockets, nothing at all. My wallet was gone..."Shit!" I screamed in a mix between anger and agony.
I looked around once more, and saw someone on the other side of the street, walking quickly. "Hey! ... Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Help, I need help!"
I could see them stop through my blurred vision. "How much you gonna pay?" They yelled back.
Fuck this society, i thought to myself. "I can pay you as much as you want after you've..." And before I could finish they were scurrying off and out of site.
I felt my head pulsing as what seemed to be my only hope disappeared from sight. My vision darkened and I closed my eyes, waiting for death. The throbbing and pain began to ease slowly as death took me. I heard a soft noise in the distance as death took me. My eyes flicked open one last time to see the broken world...
Eyes stared back at me, with a smiling face. I glanced around, I was in a white room. "Welcome back to reality! How was you tour in the virtual world?"
*****************
Any Advise? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I have to go to bed like right now, but here's a quick idea, screenplay-style:
(Yada yada yada, adventuring and such)
George Soros: Yes, you see, it was all a ploy. Sure, the disease causes much pain. But it doesn't really kill you. You see, [gets eye to eye with the main character] fear motivates profit.
(Yada yada yada, George Soros and his Sheeple army are defeated and they bring down the NWO or something)
The End | I carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the last of my rations for the week. It was
unlike the rations they had in the wars we were taught about in history class. These were not for basic necessities like food and fuel but rather for a single precious resource. It hleld the line against humanity's worst enemy; propped us up against complete obliteration; stood between our species and extinction. It was our crowning achievement against the disease that had cost us billions of lives and billions of dollars. It was in limited supply, but we had enough. Well, those of us fortunate to be born into wealthier nations anyways.
I cut one of the cards out and waved it all around the room, spreading the medicinal vapors. Alas-- it was not enough to cover my entire home. Resources were dwindling, and only the strong would survive the gradually but steadily decreasing supply of drugs, and it would dissipate too quickly. I had long accepted my fate as an eventual victim of the cruel nature of scarcity, but now it stared me in the face-- and I trembled.
I heard a knock on the door. It was my neighbor. I let him inside. He looked momentarily confused, and then--
"Hey, uh, do you smell that?"
"The medicine."
"The...medicine?"
I pointed at the stack of old rations on the table. Now he looked even more confused.
"That's junk mail, and those are perfume samples." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | I carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the last of my rations for the week. It was
unlike the rations they had in the wars we were taught about in history class. These were not for basic necessities like food and fuel but rather for a single precious resource. It hleld the line against humanity's worst enemy; propped us up against complete obliteration; stood between our species and extinction. It was our crowning achievement against the disease that had cost us billions of lives and billions of dollars. It was in limited supply, but we had enough. Well, those of us fortunate to be born into wealthier nations anyways.
I cut one of the cards out and waved it all around the room, spreading the medicinal vapors. Alas-- it was not enough to cover my entire home. Resources were dwindling, and only the strong would survive the gradually but steadily decreasing supply of drugs, and it would dissipate too quickly. I had long accepted my fate as an eventual victim of the cruel nature of scarcity, but now it stared me in the face-- and I trembled.
I heard a knock on the door. It was my neighbor. I let him inside. He looked momentarily confused, and then--
"Hey, uh, do you smell that?"
"The medicine."
"The...medicine?"
I pointed at the stack of old rations on the table. Now he looked even more confused.
"That's junk mail, and those are perfume samples." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | I carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the last of my rations for the week. It was
unlike the rations they had in the wars we were taught about in history class. These were not for basic necessities like food and fuel but rather for a single precious resource. It hleld the line against humanity's worst enemy; propped us up against complete obliteration; stood between our species and extinction. It was our crowning achievement against the disease that had cost us billions of lives and billions of dollars. It was in limited supply, but we had enough. Well, those of us fortunate to be born into wealthier nations anyways.
I cut one of the cards out and waved it all around the room, spreading the medicinal vapors. Alas-- it was not enough to cover my entire home. Resources were dwindling, and only the strong would survive the gradually but steadily decreasing supply of drugs, and it would dissipate too quickly. I had long accepted my fate as an eventual victim of the cruel nature of scarcity, but now it stared me in the face-- and I trembled.
I heard a knock on the door. It was my neighbor. I let him inside. He looked momentarily confused, and then--
"Hey, uh, do you smell that?"
"The medicine."
"The...medicine?"
I pointed at the stack of old rations on the table. Now he looked even more confused.
"That's junk mail, and those are perfume samples." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I have to go to bed like right now, but here's a quick idea, screenplay-style:
(Yada yada yada, adventuring and such)
George Soros: Yes, you see, it was all a ploy. Sure, the disease causes much pain. But it doesn't really kill you. You see, [gets eye to eye with the main character] fear motivates profit.
(Yada yada yada, George Soros and his Sheeple army are defeated and they bring down the NWO or something)
The End | After I ran out of money I said goodbye to my friends and family, according to the doctor I'd die before the sunset. Surprisingly enough I survived until the morning, a few days had passed since then. One of my friends was a bio engineer, he tested some of my blood to see what was going on. Turned out the bacteria that was behind the disease was entirely gone. According to him, using what data he had gathered, it was gone for a long time. The defensive mechanisms of my body were on standby since there was nothing to attack, aside from whatever was in these pills. In fact, the drugs were causing those symptoms to show. This plague on man was so terrifying when it was first discovered people began to take a weaker form of the drug as a precautionary measure. And it all started from there. Now I'm broke, in a world addicted to a drug that serves no purpose. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | After I ran out of money I said goodbye to my friends and family, according to the doctor I'd die before the sunset. Surprisingly enough I survived until the morning, a few days had passed since then. One of my friends was a bio engineer, he tested some of my blood to see what was going on. Turned out the bacteria that was behind the disease was entirely gone. According to him, using what data he had gathered, it was gone for a long time. The defensive mechanisms of my body were on standby since there was nothing to attack, aside from whatever was in these pills. In fact, the drugs were causing those symptoms to show. This plague on man was so terrifying when it was first discovered people began to take a weaker form of the drug as a precautionary measure. And it all started from there. Now I'm broke, in a world addicted to a drug that serves no purpose. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I yawn, mouth wide. The sun breaks through the blinds covering all two of the windows in my little box of a room. My computer monitor flickers on as I groan bleary eyed dropping my feet to the floor.
"Wonder how that disease is going?" I mutter to myself as I type my password into the command prompt.
The smell of coffee wafts in through my barely cracked door and I can hear my girlfriend calling from down the steps just outside, "Hey sweety, coffee's almost ready!"
Bending my knees, my bones crack and I pull away at the string that brings all that glistening yellow in over me.
"At least I live in a country with universal healthcare." I snicker. | I woke up this morning.
When she asked me if she could spend the night, I won't lie, my heart hadn't raced like that in ages. It had to be her. I felt my senses come alive -- to be quickly dashed apart by the horrible reminder that I was almost seventy-two hours since I quit caffeine. I could barely remember the last time I went a day without some sort getting me through the day. I'd never made it through two without passing out, waking up and having to get some into me to get going again. But this was it. It was night three and I could feel the exhaustion crushing me.
And then there she was, after all the years. Remembering her face the same way it was ages ago when we first met. Her arms squeezing tightly around me. I couldn't tell her that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. She would cry. She might tell me that I'm selfish. But I can't do it anymore. I couldn't live in this dream world.
And I let her come with me anyway.
The Doctors all agreed that it was a mostly harmless fix that would get us all through our days. And they knew what was right. They had the education, the degrees. Just about one cup of coffee or strong tea would do it. And so life went on.
What they didn't tell us was that you couldn't stop. You had to have one cup at minimum a day. symptoms would quickly start to manifest after 24 hours of not having consumed any. Symptoms included irritability, fatigue, thirst. I want it came down to it, what price was that to pay. A couple day. Easy.
So, in every culture around the world it became part of our daily routines. The Doctors, they just called it your daily dose.
Three days without dosing.
Our arms intertwined, her breasts crushing against mine. And time stretched to infinity until sleep finally claimed me for the last time.
Or so I thought.
But this morning I awoke. And I cried. Their still bodies draped in the white hospital blankets lay in beds to my sides, only their faces showing. The faint color of life brushing their cheeks.
Eventually the nurses came and helped sit me up; the tears came much harder this time. The room extended into the distance, bed after bed. One comatose body after another.
My life hadn't just felt like a dream... |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." | I woke up this morning.
When she asked me if she could spend the night, I won't lie, my heart hadn't raced like that in ages. It had to be her. I felt my senses come alive -- to be quickly dashed apart by the horrible reminder that I was almost seventy-two hours since I quit caffeine. I could barely remember the last time I went a day without some sort getting me through the day. I'd never made it through two without passing out, waking up and having to get some into me to get going again. But this was it. It was night three and I could feel the exhaustion crushing me.
And then there she was, after all the years. Remembering her face the same way it was ages ago when we first met. Her arms squeezing tightly around me. I couldn't tell her that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. She would cry. She might tell me that I'm selfish. But I can't do it anymore. I couldn't live in this dream world.
And I let her come with me anyway.
The Doctors all agreed that it was a mostly harmless fix that would get us all through our days. And they knew what was right. They had the education, the degrees. Just about one cup of coffee or strong tea would do it. And so life went on.
What they didn't tell us was that you couldn't stop. You had to have one cup at minimum a day. symptoms would quickly start to manifest after 24 hours of not having consumed any. Symptoms included irritability, fatigue, thirst. I want it came down to it, what price was that to pay. A couple day. Easy.
So, in every culture around the world it became part of our daily routines. The Doctors, they just called it your daily dose.
Three days without dosing.
Our arms intertwined, her breasts crushing against mine. And time stretched to infinity until sleep finally claimed me for the last time.
Or so I thought.
But this morning I awoke. And I cried. Their still bodies draped in the white hospital blankets lay in beds to my sides, only their faces showing. The faint color of life brushing their cheeks.
Eventually the nurses came and helped sit me up; the tears came much harder this time. The room extended into the distance, bed after bed. One comatose body after another.
My life hadn't just felt like a dream... |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | I woke up this morning.
When she asked me if she could spend the night, I won't lie, my heart hadn't raced like that in ages. It had to be her. I felt my senses come alive -- to be quickly dashed apart by the horrible reminder that I was almost seventy-two hours since I quit caffeine. I could barely remember the last time I went a day without some sort getting me through the day. I'd never made it through two without passing out, waking up and having to get some into me to get going again. But this was it. It was night three and I could feel the exhaustion crushing me.
And then there she was, after all the years. Remembering her face the same way it was ages ago when we first met. Her arms squeezing tightly around me. I couldn't tell her that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. She would cry. She might tell me that I'm selfish. But I can't do it anymore. I couldn't live in this dream world.
And I let her come with me anyway.
The Doctors all agreed that it was a mostly harmless fix that would get us all through our days. And they knew what was right. They had the education, the degrees. Just about one cup of coffee or strong tea would do it. And so life went on.
What they didn't tell us was that you couldn't stop. You had to have one cup at minimum a day. symptoms would quickly start to manifest after 24 hours of not having consumed any. Symptoms included irritability, fatigue, thirst. I want it came down to it, what price was that to pay. A couple day. Easy.
So, in every culture around the world it became part of our daily routines. The Doctors, they just called it your daily dose.
Three days without dosing.
Our arms intertwined, her breasts crushing against mine. And time stretched to infinity until sleep finally claimed me for the last time.
Or so I thought.
But this morning I awoke. And I cried. Their still bodies draped in the white hospital blankets lay in beds to my sides, only their faces showing. The faint color of life brushing their cheeks.
Eventually the nurses came and helped sit me up; the tears came much harder this time. The room extended into the distance, bed after bed. One comatose body after another.
My life hadn't just felt like a dream... |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| I woke up this morning.
When she asked me if she could spend the night, I won't lie, my heart hadn't raced like that in ages. It had to be her. I felt my senses come alive -- to be quickly dashed apart by the horrible reminder that I was almost seventy-two hours since I quit caffeine. I could barely remember the last time I went a day without some sort getting me through the day. I'd never made it through two without passing out, waking up and having to get some into me to get going again. But this was it. It was night three and I could feel the exhaustion crushing me.
And then there she was, after all the years. Remembering her face the same way it was ages ago when we first met. Her arms squeezing tightly around me. I couldn't tell her that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. She would cry. She might tell me that I'm selfish. But I can't do it anymore. I couldn't live in this dream world.
And I let her come with me anyway.
The Doctors all agreed that it was a mostly harmless fix that would get us all through our days. And they knew what was right. They had the education, the degrees. Just about one cup of coffee or strong tea would do it. And so life went on.
What they didn't tell us was that you couldn't stop. You had to have one cup at minimum a day. symptoms would quickly start to manifest after 24 hours of not having consumed any. Symptoms included irritability, fatigue, thirst. I want it came down to it, what price was that to pay. A couple day. Easy.
So, in every culture around the world it became part of our daily routines. The Doctors, they just called it your daily dose.
Three days without dosing.
Our arms intertwined, her breasts crushing against mine. And time stretched to infinity until sleep finally claimed me for the last time.
Or so I thought.
But this morning I awoke. And I cried. Their still bodies draped in the white hospital blankets lay in beds to my sides, only their faces showing. The faint color of life brushing their cheeks.
Eventually the nurses came and helped sit me up; the tears came much harder this time. The room extended into the distance, bed after bed. One comatose body after another.
My life hadn't just felt like a dream... |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | I woke up this morning.
When she asked me if she could spend the night, I won't lie, my heart hadn't raced like that in ages. It had to be her. I felt my senses come alive -- to be quickly dashed apart by the horrible reminder that I was almost seventy-two hours since I quit caffeine. I could barely remember the last time I went a day without some sort getting me through the day. I'd never made it through two without passing out, waking up and having to get some into me to get going again. But this was it. It was night three and I could feel the exhaustion crushing me.
And then there she was, after all the years. Remembering her face the same way it was ages ago when we first met. Her arms squeezing tightly around me. I couldn't tell her that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. She would cry. She might tell me that I'm selfish. But I can't do it anymore. I couldn't live in this dream world.
And I let her come with me anyway.
The Doctors all agreed that it was a mostly harmless fix that would get us all through our days. And they knew what was right. They had the education, the degrees. Just about one cup of coffee or strong tea would do it. And so life went on.
What they didn't tell us was that you couldn't stop. You had to have one cup at minimum a day. symptoms would quickly start to manifest after 24 hours of not having consumed any. Symptoms included irritability, fatigue, thirst. I want it came down to it, what price was that to pay. A couple day. Easy.
So, in every culture around the world it became part of our daily routines. The Doctors, they just called it your daily dose.
Three days without dosing.
Our arms intertwined, her breasts crushing against mine. And time stretched to infinity until sleep finally claimed me for the last time.
Or so I thought.
But this morning I awoke. And I cried. Their still bodies draped in the white hospital blankets lay in beds to my sides, only their faces showing. The faint color of life brushing their cheeks.
Eventually the nurses came and helped sit me up; the tears came much harder this time. The room extended into the distance, bed after bed. One comatose body after another.
My life hadn't just felt like a dream... |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." | One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
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|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
----------
[If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, feel free to check out my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/30SecFantasy/)
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
----------
[If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, feel free to check out my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/30SecFantasy/)
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
----------
[If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, feel free to check out my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/30SecFantasy/)
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
----------
[If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, feel free to check out my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/30SecFantasy/)
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | One pill was left in the box. It was from a box of thirty, Tyler knew. They came in thirty packs on months that had thirty days, thirty-one on the others, except for a special edition for February. They always had the right amount: never more and never less. But yesterday was April, and today was May, and there was one pill left.
Tyler gripped at his shirt to make his hands stop shaking. They began to rub his chest raw. One pill left must have meant he had forgotten to take it yesterday. God, he should have stayed in. The delivery boy didn’t come yesterday, and he had been hungry. Starving more like it. So he broke his routine and went out. And forgot to take his pill.
Tyler slumped into his chair, knocking over a tower of take-out boxes. He had killed himself. Everyone had to take the pills. Take them, or the disease got them. And everyone had the disease. Oh God, why couldn’t he have just gone hungry for one day?
His chair absorbed him. He was going to die. Someone would smell him and eventually break in. Not to check on him, but just because he was dead. He couldn’t defend his home if he were dead.
What did that matter though? He would be dead. His chair and television wouldn’t die with him. They would get along just fine without him.
Tyler sat up slightly. The thought of his chair and television existing beyond his death raised his spirits.
It was best not to mope. Tyler was no moper, damn straight. He un-stuck himself from his chair. Death would find no moper in Tyler’s home. He sat on his hands to make them stop shaking. No, Tyler would be brave. Like movie hero brave.
He puffed out his chest and waited for the disease to take him.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited a little more.
Night came, and Tyler found his back aching from sitting upright for so long.
He was still alive. Nothing about him hurt. Well, he was a little hungry, but nothing else besides that.
Did he not need the pill?
Tyler shook his head so hard a muscle stiffened in his neck, and he was left gasping for air. Ridilicous, Tyler needed the pill. Everyone needed the pill.
But what if they were right? ‘They’ being the people on the channel that Tyler’s television was not supposed to receive. Through the static, they said that no one needed the pill. When he first heard that, he immediately changed the channel to something more approved. Still, he switched back to it now and again. But just for a second or two. Tyler didn’t believe them, of course. Becuase after a few days of furtive glances at the channel, it stopped broadcasting. It made sense that they had died from the disease.
But Tyler was still alive.
Were they right?
Could he still die?
His fingernails dug into his scalp and came away bloody and filled with hair.
A single loud thud resonated from his door and a package fell out of his mailslot.
He knew it was this month’s dosage of pills.
He scrambled over to the door and tore the package open. The plastic bubble containing the pill crackled as he popped it into his hand. He had to take it. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to end up like the people on the fuzzy channel who said they went weeks without taking their pills. Tyler opened his mouth and threw the pill towards it.
But he shut his mouth, and the pill ricocheted off his teeth. It snapped in two as it hit the floor.
He placed the box on his end table. He wanted food. His body may have been dumb and didn’t know what Tyler wanted half the time, but it knew he needed food. Not once had he ever craved the pill.
Puffing out his chest, Tyler picked up the box of pills and tossed it into a garbage pile. He opened his door, hands steady-much to his surprise-and stepped out into the night. The fresh air filled his lungs with vapors of burning tires and gunpowder. A burger place existed down the street, or it had when he was much younger. A greasy pile of meat and cheese between two buns called out to him. The pills were in the trash now and no longer called on him to stay home.
He could go anywhere. Do anything.
Like, buy television broadcasting equipment.
----------
[If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, feel free to check out my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/30SecFantasy/)
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." | I sat, staring up at the ceiling. Why wasn't I dead yet? Was I dead? The pills had always had bad side effects on me, and I could barely think. Now, it was like I was a little boy. The past... 20? years had gone by in a fog. I could think clearly again. Was the disease a lie? In the beginning, I saw tons of bodies, littering the ground. Cure was known since the beginning. The people that couldn't afford it just died. My mind reflected on clear memories, from books. I could remember them perfectly. Nothing else. Where did I work? I knew, but I just went there automatically. I could never act on the things I read, but now I can. Was this a ruse? I looked out the window. Blue skies. I then heard clumping outside my door. Two, three pairs of people? I lived alone. A knocking at the door.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? Disease Control here." came from outside it.
Yep, it was definitely all a ruse. I was different. It was foggy for everyone else, too, but less than me. They couldn't read, though. That was which I only took enjoyment in doing. No tv bills, no internet bills. Just books. I had packed a bag... for some reason. I did that, sometimes, and could never remember why. I suppose I always knew it was fake, then. I looked at my sword, on the wall. Cloudy memories of me practicing, using it. From the door, one of the people said, "Mr. Bow? Please open the door."
I was dead unless I acted. I got up, and grabbed the sword. Quietly. I heard a smashing at the door, and it moved. I hid the sword in my bedsheets, and laid back down. The door broke open. Two smiling men stepped in, wearing traditional Disease Control clothing, and sunglasses.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? It is apparent you have forgotten to take your medication. We will have to terminate you for this offense."
I just grunted. The man frowned for a second, and stepped forwards. Inbetween me and the window.
"Can you kindly sit up, so my partner can quickly administer the serum?"
I grabbed my sword, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The other Disease Control man made a grab for me, but missed. I charge forwards, impacting the man. We went crashing through the window, and down 3 stories. The man cushioned my fall, and did not survive. I staggered to my feet, and quickly took the man's items. Car keys, wallet, and sunglasses, shattered in one frame. I ran towards their Jeep, a common sight on the road. I knew that there were only 2 people sent for me. In the haze of the last 20 years, I had read everything I could get my hands on. I noticed that the shocked bystanders were smiling and nodding at me, not doing a thing. I never remembered smiling. I jumped in the jeep, and started it up. I flattened the gas pedal, and went roaring down the street. Where could I go? Well, the desert was within 50 minutes' drive, and, in the beginning, people fled from the desert to the coast, the desert completely inhospitable to the type of moss that provided the cure. Some stayed. Some, possibly, never heard of the disease. And, the government made it a law to stay within 20 miles of the nearest drug store, so the desert was off-limits. I continued to drive, my mind surfacing the only knowledge that was beneficial to me. There was, surprisingly, a lot of it. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | I sat, staring up at the ceiling. Why wasn't I dead yet? Was I dead? The pills had always had bad side effects on me, and I could barely think. Now, it was like I was a little boy. The past... 20? years had gone by in a fog. I could think clearly again. Was the disease a lie? In the beginning, I saw tons of bodies, littering the ground. Cure was known since the beginning. The people that couldn't afford it just died. My mind reflected on clear memories, from books. I could remember them perfectly. Nothing else. Where did I work? I knew, but I just went there automatically. I could never act on the things I read, but now I can. Was this a ruse? I looked out the window. Blue skies. I then heard clumping outside my door. Two, three pairs of people? I lived alone. A knocking at the door.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? Disease Control here." came from outside it.
Yep, it was definitely all a ruse. I was different. It was foggy for everyone else, too, but less than me. They couldn't read, though. That was which I only took enjoyment in doing. No tv bills, no internet bills. Just books. I had packed a bag... for some reason. I did that, sometimes, and could never remember why. I suppose I always knew it was fake, then. I looked at my sword, on the wall. Cloudy memories of me practicing, using it. From the door, one of the people said, "Mr. Bow? Please open the door."
I was dead unless I acted. I got up, and grabbed the sword. Quietly. I heard a smashing at the door, and it moved. I hid the sword in my bedsheets, and laid back down. The door broke open. Two smiling men stepped in, wearing traditional Disease Control clothing, and sunglasses.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? It is apparent you have forgotten to take your medication. We will have to terminate you for this offense."
I just grunted. The man frowned for a second, and stepped forwards. Inbetween me and the window.
"Can you kindly sit up, so my partner can quickly administer the serum?"
I grabbed my sword, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The other Disease Control man made a grab for me, but missed. I charge forwards, impacting the man. We went crashing through the window, and down 3 stories. The man cushioned my fall, and did not survive. I staggered to my feet, and quickly took the man's items. Car keys, wallet, and sunglasses, shattered in one frame. I ran towards their Jeep, a common sight on the road. I knew that there were only 2 people sent for me. In the haze of the last 20 years, I had read everything I could get my hands on. I noticed that the shocked bystanders were smiling and nodding at me, not doing a thing. I never remembered smiling. I jumped in the jeep, and started it up. I flattened the gas pedal, and went roaring down the street. Where could I go? Well, the desert was within 50 minutes' drive, and, in the beginning, people fled from the desert to the coast, the desert completely inhospitable to the type of moss that provided the cure. Some stayed. Some, possibly, never heard of the disease. And, the government made it a law to stay within 20 miles of the nearest drug store, so the desert was off-limits. I continued to drive, my mind surfacing the only knowledge that was beneficial to me. There was, surprisingly, a lot of it. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| I sat, staring up at the ceiling. Why wasn't I dead yet? Was I dead? The pills had always had bad side effects on me, and I could barely think. Now, it was like I was a little boy. The past... 20? years had gone by in a fog. I could think clearly again. Was the disease a lie? In the beginning, I saw tons of bodies, littering the ground. Cure was known since the beginning. The people that couldn't afford it just died. My mind reflected on clear memories, from books. I could remember them perfectly. Nothing else. Where did I work? I knew, but I just went there automatically. I could never act on the things I read, but now I can. Was this a ruse? I looked out the window. Blue skies. I then heard clumping outside my door. Two, three pairs of people? I lived alone. A knocking at the door.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? Disease Control here." came from outside it.
Yep, it was definitely all a ruse. I was different. It was foggy for everyone else, too, but less than me. They couldn't read, though. That was which I only took enjoyment in doing. No tv bills, no internet bills. Just books. I had packed a bag... for some reason. I did that, sometimes, and could never remember why. I suppose I always knew it was fake, then. I looked at my sword, on the wall. Cloudy memories of me practicing, using it. From the door, one of the people said, "Mr. Bow? Please open the door."
I was dead unless I acted. I got up, and grabbed the sword. Quietly. I heard a smashing at the door, and it moved. I hid the sword in my bedsheets, and laid back down. The door broke open. Two smiling men stepped in, wearing traditional Disease Control clothing, and sunglasses.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? It is apparent you have forgotten to take your medication. We will have to terminate you for this offense."
I just grunted. The man frowned for a second, and stepped forwards. Inbetween me and the window.
"Can you kindly sit up, so my partner can quickly administer the serum?"
I grabbed my sword, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The other Disease Control man made a grab for me, but missed. I charge forwards, impacting the man. We went crashing through the window, and down 3 stories. The man cushioned my fall, and did not survive. I staggered to my feet, and quickly took the man's items. Car keys, wallet, and sunglasses, shattered in one frame. I ran towards their Jeep, a common sight on the road. I knew that there were only 2 people sent for me. In the haze of the last 20 years, I had read everything I could get my hands on. I noticed that the shocked bystanders were smiling and nodding at me, not doing a thing. I never remembered smiling. I jumped in the jeep, and started it up. I flattened the gas pedal, and went roaring down the street. Where could I go? Well, the desert was within 50 minutes' drive, and, in the beginning, people fled from the desert to the coast, the desert completely inhospitable to the type of moss that provided the cure. Some stayed. Some, possibly, never heard of the disease. And, the government made it a law to stay within 20 miles of the nearest drug store, so the desert was off-limits. I continued to drive, my mind surfacing the only knowledge that was beneficial to me. There was, surprisingly, a lot of it. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | I sat, staring up at the ceiling. Why wasn't I dead yet? Was I dead? The pills had always had bad side effects on me, and I could barely think. Now, it was like I was a little boy. The past... 20? years had gone by in a fog. I could think clearly again. Was the disease a lie? In the beginning, I saw tons of bodies, littering the ground. Cure was known since the beginning. The people that couldn't afford it just died. My mind reflected on clear memories, from books. I could remember them perfectly. Nothing else. Where did I work? I knew, but I just went there automatically. I could never act on the things I read, but now I can. Was this a ruse? I looked out the window. Blue skies. I then heard clumping outside my door. Two, three pairs of people? I lived alone. A knocking at the door.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? Disease Control here." came from outside it.
Yep, it was definitely all a ruse. I was different. It was foggy for everyone else, too, but less than me. They couldn't read, though. That was which I only took enjoyment in doing. No tv bills, no internet bills. Just books. I had packed a bag... for some reason. I did that, sometimes, and could never remember why. I suppose I always knew it was fake, then. I looked at my sword, on the wall. Cloudy memories of me practicing, using it. From the door, one of the people said, "Mr. Bow? Please open the door."
I was dead unless I acted. I got up, and grabbed the sword. Quietly. I heard a smashing at the door, and it moved. I hid the sword in my bedsheets, and laid back down. The door broke open. Two smiling men stepped in, wearing traditional Disease Control clothing, and sunglasses.
"Hello, Mr. Bow? It is apparent you have forgotten to take your medication. We will have to terminate you for this offense."
I just grunted. The man frowned for a second, and stepped forwards. Inbetween me and the window.
"Can you kindly sit up, so my partner can quickly administer the serum?"
I grabbed my sword, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The other Disease Control man made a grab for me, but missed. I charge forwards, impacting the man. We went crashing through the window, and down 3 stories. The man cushioned my fall, and did not survive. I staggered to my feet, and quickly took the man's items. Car keys, wallet, and sunglasses, shattered in one frame. I ran towards their Jeep, a common sight on the road. I knew that there were only 2 people sent for me. In the haze of the last 20 years, I had read everything I could get my hands on. I noticed that the shocked bystanders were smiling and nodding at me, not doing a thing. I never remembered smiling. I jumped in the jeep, and started it up. I flattened the gas pedal, and went roaring down the street. Where could I go? Well, the desert was within 50 minutes' drive, and, in the beginning, people fled from the desert to the coast, the desert completely inhospitable to the type of moss that provided the cure. Some stayed. Some, possibly, never heard of the disease. And, the government made it a law to stay within 20 miles of the nearest drug store, so the desert was off-limits. I continued to drive, my mind surfacing the only knowledge that was beneficial to me. There was, surprisingly, a lot of it. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." | I yawn, mouth wide. The sun breaks through the blinds covering all two of the windows in my little box of a room. My computer monitor flickers on as I groan bleary eyed dropping my feet to the floor.
"Wonder how that disease is going?" I mutter to myself as I type my password into the command prompt.
The smell of coffee wafts in through my barely cracked door and I can hear my girlfriend calling from down the steps just outside, "Hey sweety, coffee's almost ready!"
Bending my knees, my bones crack and I pull away at the string that brings all that glistening yellow in over me.
"At least I live in a country with universal healthcare." I snicker. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | I yawn, mouth wide. The sun breaks through the blinds covering all two of the windows in my little box of a room. My computer monitor flickers on as I groan bleary eyed dropping my feet to the floor.
"Wonder how that disease is going?" I mutter to myself as I type my password into the command prompt.
The smell of coffee wafts in through my barely cracked door and I can hear my girlfriend calling from down the steps just outside, "Hey sweety, coffee's almost ready!"
Bending my knees, my bones crack and I pull away at the string that brings all that glistening yellow in over me.
"At least I live in a country with universal healthcare." I snicker. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| I yawn, mouth wide. The sun breaks through the blinds covering all two of the windows in my little box of a room. My computer monitor flickers on as I groan bleary eyed dropping my feet to the floor.
"Wonder how that disease is going?" I mutter to myself as I type my password into the command prompt.
The smell of coffee wafts in through my barely cracked door and I can hear my girlfriend calling from down the steps just outside, "Hey sweety, coffee's almost ready!"
Bending my knees, my bones crack and I pull away at the string that brings all that glistening yellow in over me.
"At least I live in a country with universal healthcare." I snicker. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | I yawn, mouth wide. The sun breaks through the blinds covering all two of the windows in my little box of a room. My computer monitor flickers on as I groan bleary eyed dropping my feet to the floor.
"Wonder how that disease is going?" I mutter to myself as I type my password into the command prompt.
The smell of coffee wafts in through my barely cracked door and I can hear my girlfriend calling from down the steps just outside, "Hey sweety, coffee's almost ready!"
Bending my knees, my bones crack and I pull away at the string that brings all that glistening yellow in over me.
"At least I live in a country with universal healthcare." I snicker. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | Money was life, that was how it worked. If you can't pay, you won't live on. Or at least that was what we were told. My medicine had run out and according to the timer I had maybe ten minutes left to live. All my work would fade into obscurity, whether it be my activism or my personal life.
I called up my girlfriend Daniela, otherwise called Dan, I needed to talk to someone in my last minutes, though I had promised I wouldn't call her now. We had already talked this over, she had no spare Money. Neither did Max who was barely scraping by, nor Oliver, despite his lucrative Job in the drug companys R&D sector, he was already financing in parts his sister, brother and Girlfriend, my parents were dead and I had no other person I could ask.
"Hey Dan." I iniciated the conversation.
"Hey." She responded, her voice cracking. I heared sad Music in the backround.
"Sorry, I knew I said I wouldn't call now, but the strain was too much." I told her, I had spend the last hour thinking about what would happen after death.
"I didn't expect you to keep that promise." She responded, "I cannot imagene what must go on in your head right now."
"So, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Work, and sorry, I really got to get back to that now, otherwise I will go down your way." She said, I heared her crying.
"I know, love you." I said and hung up. This was the worst part about this, nobody could be aound me when it happened. I had said my farewells in the past hours, but now there was nothing. I was to face death alone.
I spend the next few minutes pondering this, staring at the cracky red of the sealing of the tent in Olivers garden into which we had moved before we completely ran out of Money.
Just a few days ago, my life had been fine, but than the techsplosion struck and all of the workers of the factory in which I worked were fired, except for the bosses son in law, because nepotism was quite prevelant.
I began singing songs I had heared often before I had sold my smartphone.
My entire being merged with these sad songs.
"May you be in heaven before the devil knows you are dead,
may these winds be always at your back!
'Cause when we are all just ghosts,
and the madness overtakes us,
we will look at the ashes,
and say 'People live here'"
My being was so merged with the songs that I didn't realise the passing of time as the clock came for me.
I was still singing when Max showed up.
"You are still alive?" His eyes went wide with exitement as I tryed to comprehend seeing him again, which I wouldn't have otherwise. He was here to get my body and sell the organs if they were of any value, something we had agreed to beforehand, so that he, Oliver and Dan could have a better life after my death.
"Seems like it." I said, still baffled by my aliveness.
"When should you have died?" He asked. I looked at my watch, the houres had floated by.
"Four hours ago." I said ecstatically. Now finally realising what this might mean.
He smiled from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but smile back like a little kid surrounded by chocolate and kittins.
When I told him of this metaphore, he started loughing like crazy and so did I, though he was far louder. Dan and Olliver found us sitting in the tent this way.
"Why are you loughing?" Dans cacking voice shouted from outside, mad at Max.
"Guess who cheated death!" He responded.
"Still alive!" I shouted.
Dan came running into the tent and fell around my neck. Oliver came slowly into the tent, looking concerned.
"What the fuck?" He asked while Dan was kissing my face from top to bottom.
"Is something wrong?" Max asked him.
"Only that I immediately need a blood sample of yours." He said, pointing at me.
"Why?" Dan asked, pissed that he wasn't happy enough that I was still alive, but Oliver was always focused o the bigger picture.
"So he might Research what keeps me alive." I said.
"Exactly, this might help me get to a cure." He added.
Maxes eyes turned wider than they had even before when he had found me alive.
"You mean there might be a chance to beat the virus here?" He asked.
"Possibly." He said, now smiling brighter than ever. We talked for quite some time and Oliver got his blood sample.
I spend the night with Dan while the others went to their own places.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked her.
"Well, I am fairly cirtain I can provide for the both of us untill you get a Job." She said.
"I can now live on any Job." I said. The problem had never been that there were no jobs, but those empty just didn't pay for the meds and food.
The next evening, Oliver came to the tent while Dan, Max and I were sitting outside.
"So, today I did some testing on your bloodsample." He said.
"And?" I asked.
"Nothing so far, your blood reacts like any blood should when tested for the virus."
"So, I am infected?" I asked.
"As far as I can tell, yes." He responded. "But that is not all. There is nothing in your blood that destroys or clods up the virus."
"You are basicly saying he isn't immune in any known way?" Dan enquired.
"Exactly, and I really have no idea about how to explain your aliveness." Oliver responded. "I know only that it is great."
"Did you have to report anything about this?" Max asked.
"Not jet, we are in a mass blood testing phase anyway, so smuggeling in one more was no big deal." He said, we spend the rest of the evening talking and I spend the next day searching for a Job.
"Have you felt any change in the past few days?" He asked me the next day.
"Well, my fepression is gone, but otherwise. Not really." I responded, somewhat sarcasticly, not being depressed anymore was quite a huge shift.
"Have you found anything?" Dan asked.
"Well, your cells responds wierdly to the med." He said. "In the sense that they don't. See, the medicine works by getting your body to work, but this doesn't happen in you. I really don't see how this would protect you from the virus, but you effectively lived without the med all your life."
"So, I am immune and you still have no idea why." I said.
"Yes, and, on another note, do you have any living relatives?" He asked."I know your parents died and you have no ciblings, but are there any aunts or uncles?"
"I have a distant uncle in Russia, though I would not have heared if he had died or moved in the last years." I said and copied his last data onto a sheet of paper.
"Here." I handed the paper to him.
"I will call him." He said. We spend the rest of the day just talking, arguing over everything from god to anarchism.
I found a possible job for me on the next day, though I would start a few days later. When I got back to the tent, Oliver was arguing with the police, so I stayed away and went around the house, climbing over the fences.
Dan was standing next to the tent with two backpacks. As I saw over the fence.
Max was also there, handing her another backpack.
After dropping to the ground, I realised that the tent was gone.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"You are being searched for!" Dan replied, trying to keep her voice down.
"Take this, we got to go now." She handed me the backpack and we lept back over the fence, running off.
"Don't you need your meds?" I asked after we had gotten away from the sight and slowed down.
"Olli smuggled out a months worth when he heared you were searched for." She replied. "Apperantly someone didn't like you survivng."
"Now, one more time: What the fuck is going on?" I asked her.
"Well, trying to find out what is up with you Olli ran into some truble at work, after he did some unsceduled tests." She started. "So, he had to explain himself. This got all the way to the General director, who called the cops. Realising what had happened, Olli stole a months worth of meds for all he usually supplyed and called me on the way home. That is all I know." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | Poverty was worse than Corpilea. At least everyone was in the same boat as far as suffering from Corpilea goes. Everyone understands the symptoms; the initial muscle weakness and rash. How without treatment things seem to get better, until you become increasingly anxious, to the point where your actions seem completely absurd, and you go insane. The insanity itself is just a symptom of a larger problem; your nervous system shutting down, your whole body firing off every little neuron it can, struggling desperately to make sense of anything before its complete collapse. And then you die. At least, in some cases. Luckily, most people merely developed a rash, some acute anxiety, and when the meds were released, they were able to mourn those they'd lost, and go on forgetting Corpilea even existed. Those who had suffered some emotional trauma or had underlying mental health issues weren't as lucky. I was lucky to be healthy enough, and popping a pill everyday didn't seem like a big deal. It's the god damn 21st century; everyone's on some kind of medication, what's another pill to add to the list?
For me, obviously too much to bear. Like I said, poverty is worse than Corpilea. I felt like a bystander in my own life, forced to watch Laura and I argue day in day out, us both trying to scrape by on my shitty wage at the garage. We could barely keep our own damn apartment running; with the constant electrical faults and leaks. It was no surprise when we started to blame each other. Only human, right? We told ourselves all couples fight, we all struggle, hell the whole world has struggled. We'd make it through.
And then that fucking day came. It's funny how the little things ultimately make the difference in how your life pans out. How me failing to fit a wheel properly resulted in a crash. How it cost a family their lives. How it cost me my job. How the stress of unemployment was too much, and how we both sold the apartment. How Laura left me to live with her parents again. My whole life, fucked, just because I made a mistake in work.
Of all the things on my mind when I went out on the streets after Laura left, the meds were the last. I knew she'd taken all the shit out the apartment, including the meds, and I suppose somewhere in the back of my head I knew I'd have to buy more, but it hardly registered. I had forgot to take them for a few days anyway, what with the stress of all that was going on, and besides, I was more concerned by the fact that the bitch had taken my money. Well, the little I had in my wallet. I did realise I couldn't get my meds, but I thought I could deal with a rash and some anxiety for a while. Hell, I was already an emotional wreck. I'd scrape some money together eventually. But anyone who's been on the streets knows the days just blend. One into the next. You sleep when you can get it, not to a routine. Some days just walking around felt too exhausting and painful, but without doing something you'd lose it from boredom. If I had to guess, it was about three days in that I realised I hadn't taken the meds for a week. I noticed cause of the rash on my upper thigh. Classic Corpilea rash. Seen it a thousand times on the news and Internet and shit. It worried me a little, but what could I do? I didn't have a dollar to my name. The only food I'd ate in the last few days was fast food leftovers that people felt 'generous' enough to hand to me instead of flinging in the nearest trash can. I had far more pressing concerns than a little rash.
It had been almost two weeks since my last dose of meds when i started to worry about how much shit I was in. I'd find myself on the corner of some street crying cause I didn't know how to change this shitty situation, I'd worry about how I could get more food, how I could get my job back. I'd worry about whether Laura would ever love me again. I was worried that I'd meet someone I know and they'd see me like this and I wouldn't have an excuse and I'd beg them, for food, water, or any sort of help and they'd shut me down and tell me it's what I deserve for costing that poor innocent family their lives all because I couldn't fix their fucking shitty car and I'd know it was the truth and I'd be stuck out here forever.
Fuck. I couldn't take the streets anymore. I was having nightmares when I got a wink of sleep. I could see how people looked at me, how they knew I was homeless and how the fuckers judged me. I couldn't take begging for another cold fucking slice of pizza from some stuck up little bitch who's daddy bought it in the first place. I couldn't take the smell of shit, which could have been me, but I had now come to associate with those fucking streets. I just couldn't take it. Any of it.
Thoughts raced through my head. No idea how long, days. Maybe a week. All I could think of was this situation and finding a way out. I had to think. Come up with something, anything. A plan of action. A solution. Then I knew. It was obvious. An epiphany. I'd go see Laura. We're still a couple. We're still in love. She loves me, I love her. We can still solve this, we can still make things right.
I forced myself to walk for god knows how many blocks to her mom's place. I felt so damn nervous knocking on that door. Like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom. I'd not felt those nerves, not ever. They raced through my whole body. It felt kind of exciting, almost surreal. I could solve everything, turn things around with this one meeting. I could-
'Dave?' it was Laura's mother. Standing at the door. I found myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. I hadn't thought through what I was going to say. Shit, what do I say. How do I explain it all?
'Dave? Are you alright?'
A question. I could answer that.
'Yeah Edna, I'm doing fine. Is Laura here? Is she still here? I just, I need to talk to her, you know? I need to ask her-'
Edna frowned and looked me up and down.
'Dave, I don't think it's best if Laura sees you like this. I know it's hard for you, but try get yourself together a bit, huh? Then come back.'
That fucking bitch. She'd stop me seeing Laura? This was my one chance to fix it all. The adrenaline surged through my entire body. This hag wasn't gonna stop me.
I shoved Edna out the way. She went quiet and I started shouting.
'Laura? LAURA! I know you have to be in here, you told me you were coming here, you said it yourself, you-'
'Dave?' I heard the reply. I turned around to face the stairs. Laura. I knew that voice so well. It sounded calm. I knew we could sort this out.
'Laura, you don't know how happy I am to see you, it's all gonna be okay, I'm sorry, I just I need help now, I-'
'Dave. Listen to what I'm about to say.' She replied to me slowly.
'Yeah, Laura, sure, whatever, just let it out' She breathed in deeply. Almost a sigh.
'Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I'm not kidding Dave. I don't care what shit you've been through, this is no excuse to come bursting in here, assaulting my fucking mom and asking me for help, as if you deserve it. Have you fucking gone insane?' She was angry. Loud. Louder and louder.
I was stunned. I couldn't believe the words coming out her mouth. It didn't make sense.
'Assault? I didn't mean to- I just, I need help Laura, I'm not insane, I'm not, I just-'
Then it hit me. The meds. I hadn't taken them in so long and I was still fucking alive. How? It was unbelievable. I hadn't even felt the rash in so long, there were no symptoms at all. How could I be so healthy? I had to tell her. Something had to be going on. Was Corpilea even lethal? Did it even cause the shit the government said it did?
'Dave, please just go before I call the cops. You're scaring the shit out of me.'
'Laura, you don't get it. I've been on the streets for weeks. Fucking WEEKS! So little food, so little water. But I'm still alive. I'm still here. How? How is it fucking possible Laura? I should be dead. I haven't taken my meds in weeks, how am I here? Is it all a lie? Is it-'
'Wait, Dave, slow down.' Laura interrupted me. She seemed calm again now. But worried. Worried about me.
'You haven't taken your meds? I left you a bottle of them Dave, I left you a bag in the apartment with essential shit. I thought you'd be fine. There was enough money to find a hotel or something, what the fuck have you been doing?'
A bag? No, there was no bag. I couldn't have missed the bag. But maybe I did. Was so emotional. I stormed out. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it was all for nothing. If I could just get to the bag. Food. Water. I'd be okay, I'd-
'Dave, what are you mumbling? Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?'
I stared blankly. Didn't know what to say.
'You need help. You need the meds.'
She still didn't get it. How?
'Laura, I don't need meds. None of us do. It's bullshit. I know that. I've learned it. All this pain, it's been so I could discover this. Right? So that I could understand what's really going on. I'll go get the bag. I'll come back, okay? We'll solve this. I promise.'
I ran out the door. I could hear Laura shouting on me, but it didn't matter. I had to get the bag. I ran as fast as I could. Block after block. Running. Thinking. Thinking about all of this. How poverty was worse than Corpilea. Still thinking now. I'm almost there now. To the apartment. My heart's pumping so fucking fast. Running so fast my vision's blurring. Running too fast. Stumbled. Fell. Trying to get up but I can't. People starting to swarm around me. They finally care. Heart feel's like it's gonna explode. Can't do it anymore. Can't take it all. It's too much.
Darkness. Can only hear voices. Saying something. Nervous system shutting down. Can hear Laura. Her voice. She's saying something. Something about insanity. About me. Can't make it all out. Only some words. Death. Hours. Collapse. Corpilea. Beep. Beep. Beep. Insane. Beep. Beep. Beep. Corpilea, Corpilea, Corpilea. Beep, beeeep, Corpilea, Laura, Laura, help. Beep. Sorry.
Darkness. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Order! Order in the court! The defendant, Ernst Yeates will now hereby willingly pay the plaintiff, Charlotte Reede 80% of his salary, and will lose the full custody of his children." declares the judge in a strong and clear voice. He cracks down the hammer, defeating me in a single blow.
The silence is unbearable. A pin drop could have broken such fragile silence in an instant. Fortunately, makes a decision to break it. The great clock above the judge chimes a merry jingle, the bell resonating four times. The effect is almost instantaneous; everyone scrambles around looking for something.
A red label dictates our ingestion timetable: "One pill per hour, whilst awake, for the duration of the pandemic." I swallow the curious pink pill that now acts as our timekeeping devices. I choke on mine. Nervously, I tip my glass of water back down my gullet. I slam the glass down on the table, and swallow hard, my head hung low. Looking up, I see her, the person I once loved the most in the whole world. I look at her, closer. She looks gorgeous, all dressed up like that.
I still remember the day I bought her that dress. Such joy, such happiness, such love she gave to that dress, and she had to go off and wear it today. All the beauty has disappeared. Not only in our lives, but in everyone else's.
Three years ago, my life was perfect. I was earning good money in a pharmaceutical company, called MediCorp, managing everyone's accounts, and payments. I worked well, and worked hard. I came home to a loving family in east Manhattan, as she always finished work before I did.
A "Wonder Weapon Against Death" was developed. The principle was simple: aging occurs because the caps on our chromosomes erode when multiplying, and if they reach the DNA, it erodes the genetic data. This "Super Weapon" regrows the caps. It was developed in secret, away from prying eyes. Upon it's release, the new bacterial cure was sensational: competitiors started immediate work on their own cure. Sales skyrocketed and the shareholder values exceeded all expectations. Soon after, the government got involved, and demanded MediCorp to give it 50% of the earnings from the cure.
MediCorp then started to cut corners, using slightly different, cheaper methods and chemicals. The cure backfired drastically, reducing the DNA strands down in less than an hour, removing all traces of how the body should grow, and develop. The bacterium then set it's own genetic data in the nucleus.
At first, no one noticed, but then, their bodies dried up and decayed from lack of blood. A lack of white blood cells meant that any bacteria or virus flourished within the body, and the "bacterium X" hijacked the human cells to reproduce the bacteria. Those who injected themselves with "The Wonder Cure" died a not so wonderous death, holed up in a quarantined house, festering alive. Only the rich could afford them, and most of the pompous high class died. In one day, the bacteria eradicated 5% of the world population, clearing much of the richer cities of their inhabitants. Emergency protocols were imposed in different countries. Borders were sealed, and martial law imposed.
MediCorp instantly went bankrupt. With the CEO's bank account reserves, they developed a cure to the bacterium. It didn't remove the bacteria from the patient, but it rebuilt the DNA the cells lost. The bacterium itself could never die. The cure received government approval, and was declared the official cure. All other pharmaceutical companies were outlawed. Martial law included taking these pink pills, once per hour. Something fishy was definitely going on. I wonder if it could be...
"Ernst? Hey, Ernst?" queries a soft voice. It resonated around my skull, until I woke up as to where I actually was, still stuck in a country with martial law imposed, quarantined from the rest of the world from fear of contracting a much more serious strain of bacteria. We have no foreign embassies, we have no connection to the outside world. We simply assume the worst: that the US is the only country with a stable government, that isn't stuggling, that isn't dying from invincible, mutated bacteria. It makes life easier to bear.
"Ernst?" the voice asks again. This time, I find where the voice is coming from. I look at her, her beauty makes everything around her shine. I avoid her gaze, bringing my head down, looking at all the papers scattered across the table.
"I'm so sorry. I just need it, but not only for me, for the kids. We may not love each other, but we love our children, don't we?" I do nothing. I merely search for her eyes, something to hold me stable.
"Yes, yes I do, but 80? You have a job as well, why 80?" I dig deeper into her, to find what secrets she has buried deep within herself.
"You don't need to know. Just know that I will be there if you need me." She drops her voice to a whisper, and leans closer towards me. "That 80 isn't for me or the kids, it's for something bigger than us." She stands up straight and speaks louder. "Now, don't worry, you can deal with it. You're an accountant. You will be able to see the kids twice a month. Goodbye." She strides away, leaving everything she once stood for behind her. Including me.
I walk home. The police hang around every important avenue, armed with automatics. They don't do anything, they just stand there, waiting for another case to happen, for another intervention to display their skills as a team. New York, once a thriving, breathing metropolis, now appears dead. Lights are turned off one by one, as the policies invade our lives. 5th Avenue now looks like a ghost town, without people, without cars, without intentions.
I arrive at my flat. Well, a penthouse really. The death of the upper class led to a massive housing market crash, as people left the cities in fear. I look out at the dark skyline of New York. Who could think that this was once a bustling city? Could this city be like my life? Where I, like the city, die without anybody living in it? I work to pay my food, my bills, my heavy taxes, nothing more, not even those pink pills. I'm working to give money to my ex-wife's savings account. I should leave, never to come back. If I'm going to die, I might as well see the rest of the world. I pack my bags and leave.
The docks should be this way, past the next block. I make my way over, only to see the police lights flashing in front of me. I look around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. I start sprinting away. I haven't run in years, and I feel *alive*. The police notice me, and flip the sirens on. Running from the howling of the sirens, I head towards the water. There's a speedboat docked to the quay. It may be old, it may be rusting, but it's my only hope at my escape. A second squad car screeches from my right, headed straight at me. A flight of stairs block my path to the boat. I jump down the stairs, only to crumble upon my landing. I don't care if I'm bleeding, I don't care if I'm hurt, I must run.
I manage to struggle to the boat, panting for breath. The blue lights stop at the top of the docks. The keys must be here somewhere, hidden in the pile of clothes which was once a rich man. I grab them. Turning the keys, a tannoy voice shouts. "Stop running! Stop, in the name of the law! Or we will be forced to fire upon you!"
I turn the accelerator up, and the engine splutters to life. The racking of guns behind me was supposed to be a deterrent, but I'm too deep into this now, I need to go. As I speed away, the bullets start coming. The metal paneling of the boat protects me from most of harm, but I only need one well placed bullet for me to die, not that death has much meaning to me. A helicopter flies overhead, illuminating the boat. A single shot comes from the helicopter, but it's all I need. It strikes me in my back, shredding through my duffel bag, and lodging itself in my side. I fall down. The boat still speeds ahead, through the choppy ocean. I can't feel anything. Numbness overcomes all my senses, as I close my eyes, for the last time, I hope.
The pale blue sky is the only thing I see upon waking. No clouds, no waves. Pain. Pain is everything I feel. I get up. I look behind me. A giant ship looms over me. Many hearty faces look down at me. A voice calls out, telling me to not panic, that they are here to rescue me. A rope ladder tumbles down the side of the ship and splashes into the water. The voice tells me to climb it. I comply reluctantly, uncertain of my fate.
When I get to the top, a man dressed in a captain's uniform greets me with a grand smile through his mighty beard. "How's it going then, eh? Good thing we saved you when we did, the waves will be choppy tonight, don't want ou going overboard!"
The captain grins at me.
"I'm not...dead?" I whisper, my throat dry and puckered from lack of water.
"Dead? Well you're talking to me, so, no!" He lets out a mighty laugh. Everyone else around him chuckles.
"But I haven't been taking my medication... My body isn't dead yet?" I pull out the box of pills. The captain grabs the box and looks carefully at it. "What's this, then?" he asks, curious.
"Drugs to save my life. My cells are dying, and this helps stop it. The pandemic? MediCorp?" I struggle to speak.
"The MediCorp Pandemic? We cured that years ago! These pills taste like oranges, so it sounds like you solved it too!"
I'm lost. Why would the government lie? Why would they confine us to living like rats? I don't know, and will never find out. I collapse from lack of blood. The sky is so blue, so pretty. If only I could live a little longer...
(Edit: Finally finished the story!) | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Morning, sweetheart," the woman says, pressing her lips against my forehead. The smell of vanilla from her perfume mingles with the coffee she's placed on my beside table; it creates a tempest of memories that I can't place order to.
"Jessica?" I whisper. I know something is wrong, but I don't want to know what that something is.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asks, her smoky voice sending singals down by body. She slips a bra strap free from her shoulder.
"You're dead..." I say, my voice barely audible. But the taste of her tongue in my mouth pushes the thought out of my head, replacing it with a violent, primal urge.
She pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me, straddling me. She has one hand behind her back and raises the other to her lips.
"Hush, baby," she says.
"Oh God!" I yell, as I see the knife in her other hand. I try to push her off me - to take the blade from her - but I can't move my arms.
"Please," I beg. "Don't. "
She smiles as she runs the knife across her neck.
Warm liquid covers my body.
---
I wake in a pool of sweat. The nightmares are getting worse. More *intense*. They are all of Jessica - my sweet Jessica. It had been over four years since I'd found her body lying in a pool of red syrup.
To be expected, Gov had said. She'd stopped taking her pills for three weeks and had suffered an aneurysm. Ruptured blood vessels and capillaries in her brain and body.
Now its my turn - I can't afford the pills for another week. Three days without them, and I'm already a wreck. How long until my brain blows? Until someone finds me in a pool of blood.
---
"Morning Mike," Tom says to me, a wide smile on his fat face.
"Hey, Tom," I say. "How's work going?"
I wonder if his heart will stop before my brain. The pill can't protect him from heart disease.
"Jeez buddy, you don't look so good."
"I've not been sleeping well."
"Oh Mike, you've not been playing poker again, have you?"
*None of your fucking business.* "No, Tom," I say.
"Cause you know what they say - a fool and his money are soon parted."
"I better get to work."
"Sure thing. See you later, buddy."
"Great."
I sit down on my plastic chair, the pain in my back twists in like a corkscrew. Ten bright monitors stare obnoxiously at me, showing feeds of the corridors across the hospital. Doctors, patients, visitors. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm going to lose my job, if anything ever happens, because I won't be doing shit to stop it.
It's early, but I take out half my sandwich and sink my teeth into the peanut putter and bread. It sticks to the top of my mouth and I press it with my tongue, daring it to stay there.
It takes me a moment to recognise her, on monitor six. She's looking away from the camera, and her hair's a different colour. But she turns, glancing at me for a split second. I almost choke on my food, as I turn the camera to follow her down the hall.
I watch, stunned, motionless, as my dead wife takes the stairwell to the janitorial basement. Somewhere my cameras can't follow.
"Jessica," I whisper, tasting her name. "I'm coming baby."
---
The basement is cold from damp, and only flickering staccato lights allow me to navigate my way through. The basement rooms twist and turn until eventually I find another door - another set of stairs, leading me deeper down into the bowels of the Gov hospital.
This floor is more a network of passages, than a basement, and I am soon lost.
"Jessica?" I yell. "Jessica!"
"I'm here," comes a faint reply.
I follow the voice, my heart fluttering. The gloom grows like cancer around me, as I push further into the tunnels.
I step into a large space, it's too dark to see anything, but I hear steady breathing.
"Jessica?"
"Who are you," comes the voice from behind me.
A light flicks on, chasing the darkness away.
I turn to find a blonde lady pointing a gun at my chest.
"You're not Jessica," I say, my shoulders falling.
"Jessica?" she repeats, her face scrunched up in suspicion.
"My wife. She's dead. Didn't take her pills."
"Oh." Her body relaxes slightly. "Gov told you that's why she died?"
I nod.
She says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, she seems reluctant.
"The pills don't kill you. Not exactly."
"You're wrong," I snap. "That's how Jessica died, and... I've not been taking them," I confess. "Three days so far, and I already feel like crap."
"*Three days?* Shit."
"What?"
"Your wife was found in a pool of blood, right? Gov said her heart blew, or maybe her brain."
"How do you-"
"She didn't die because of the pills - well, not exactly. Gov killed her."
"*What?*"
"Three days," she repeats. "You need to come with me. Now."
| "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | **Part One (Part Two and Three in Comments)**
The pills were heavy in my hands. I moved them around my palm, watching them bump into one another. Dim light spilled into my bedroom as I took in a deep breath. I knew Mom was cooking breakfast and Dad was at work, desperately trying to make enough money for us to live... but this wasn't living. We were already dead, moving through the motions of survival to be able to afford just another miserable day... and I couldn't do it anymore.
"Steph?" Mom called through my door, "Honey did you take your medication? Food is ready!" She tapped on the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, "I just took them now. I'm getting dressed."
"Okay hun," She said, "Just hurry up or you'll be late."
I nodded. I could hear her footsteps disappear around the corner. I glanced at the rash on my arm. I wondered what it would be like to have it spread over my body. I wondered what it felt like to die... to finally let the disease kill me. Would it be pain or peace?
I shook my head, I didn't want to think about it anymore. These pills had ruled my life since I was five. They had clouded my mind and made me afraid each and every day. It was time to let go. Time to be free.
Walking over to my trash can I tipped my hand so the pills fell into the bin. I threw some tissues over them and fell onto my bed. I put my hands over my face. The Department of Disease control warned us that the symptoms would become worse within four hours of missing our dose. That the rash would slowly cover our entire body as fluids filled our lungs. We would be suffocated by our own insides... it wasn't a pleasant death they warned... but is any death not painful?
---
I sat in the car for a moment with my Mom. She glanced at me and turned off the engine.
"What is it?" she said, reaching over and pushing my hair off my brow. "Come on Steph, you can tell me."
I met her eyes. They were bright and blue. I tried to remember what it was like to see them for the first time. I wish I could remember what it was like to grow inside her and feel her heart so close to me. It made my own heart hurt knowing how much pain I was about to cause her... but it was a valiant choice wasn't it? So that she and Dad could actually have a life.
"I'm just... I'm worried about my test today." I said. "I don't think I studied enough."
"Oh," Mom said, "Well hun, I know how much you study and I can tell you'll be just fine. Now off you go. I'll pick you up at 3:00."
I reached over and hugged her like I had never hugged her before. I took in a deep breath of the smell of her hair and her perfume. She always wore the same kind... ever since I was a baby.
"Bye Mom," I said.
"See you later hun." She said.
I opened the car door and walked towards the school, trying to not let the tears hiding behind my eyes pool over the sides. I walked with my head down towards the door and, once I was sure Mom's car had gone, I turned my direction towards the forest.
I didn't stop walking until I was deep within the trees. The forest floor was riddled with old newspapers and signs that were historical relics of the time before the Monarchy. I continued with the turning paths until I found a little clearing filled with flowers and bright sunlight. I dropped my bag to the side and glanced at my watch: two hours. It had been two hours since I had missed my medication. I sat down and then laid back in the grass. I allowed the sunshine to warm my face. I tried to focus on how the grass felt against my skin. How the breeze swept my hair. I wasn't sure what I would miss most about living. My life had been filled with suffering just like everyone else. Perhaps death would finally be the escape we had all bee seeking. Maybe that's why the disease happened in the first place.
Three hours.
My heart was pounding faster than ever before. I could feel an itch against my skin, as if I had been bitten by some little bugs. My vision became sharper as my mind began to feel more alive. I felt like I couldn't breath. The air seemed thinner. Perhaps the liquid was finally filling my lungs.
Four hours.
It should be any moment now. I tried to brace myself for the pain but I wasn't quite sure how one did that. Thinking about it definitely made it worse, but you only die once so maybe I want to focus on every moment of it and try to enjoy it for the human experience that it was? It should all happen soon... it was just a matter of minutes.
Five hours.
I waited. The sun had moved in the sky. Birds were singing happily. I kept my eyes closed. The pain should kick in any time now. That's what all the reports stated when they found bodies of the people who could no longer afford the drugs.
"Exactly four hours after he had missed his daily dose the newest disease victim was found my the Department of Disease control. His body completely blue from suffocation. Let this be a reminder and a warning to all, take your medications on time or this body could be yours."
Six hours.
I sat up and looked around. I glanced at my watch. It had been six hours. SIX. Maybe my body was just better at keeping the treatment drug in my system. Or maybe the disease was weaker in me. I looked at my rash but it wasn't there anymore. I pulled up my shirt. My skin was clearer than it had ever been. There were no aches or spots. The pains that had filled my head had seemed to escape out my ears. I pushed my hair off my brow and took in a deep breath.
Something was buzzing. I reached into my backpack to get my phone. Mom's face was on the screen with her contact name under it. I answered it and held it to my ear shaking only slightly.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie," Mom's voice said, "Hun I'm at the school to pick you up. Where are you? Your Principal said you missed all your classes today."
"I'm sorry," I said, the tears actually falling from my eyes now. "I... I went for a walk in the woods today because I was so nervous for my test and I got lost and then when i finally found my way it didn't make sense to go back to the school."
Mom sighed. "It's okay hun are you at the school now, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I said. "I'll be there soon. But can we talk to the Principal about this tomorrow? I just want to go home."
"Okay, okay," she cooed. "It'll be alright. Just get to the school, we'll go home and talk about it. Call me in a few minutes so I know not to worry."
I stood up. My legs felt stronger, as if my aching muscles had healed themselves. I began to walk back to the school but I felt the sudden desire to be running. I suddenly had so much energy. I felt like I could climb a tree or jump to the stars. I laughed as I ran, doing cartwheels and jumping over junk. I felt alive. Like truly alive. But what did it all mean?
Mom was waiting for me outside the school. She had an expression on her face that was a mix between concern and worry. She opened her arms as I approached and hugged me tightly.
"I was very worried," she said, "I'm glad you are alright."
I hugged her tightly. When I pulled away I noticed something about her that I hadn't before. She seemed almost robotic. There wasn't much about her and her expressions were minor to non-existent. We walked towards the car and she began to drive again making me think about a robot. But now that I was paying attention, everyone looked like a robot, or like they were sleep walking. They performed tasks and went about their business. But they seemed... well it was hard to say exactly what they were like, but it made me uncomfortable.
"Mom," I said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes of course," Mom said, "I have never felt so good since the Drug to help the disease was invented. It almost killed me you know."
"No i don't know," I said, "What happened?"
"Well," Mom said, "One day at work everyone in the office developped this horrible rash all over their bodies. And that evening the news was talking about it and how it was a non-curable disease that had taken over the *entire* world. It was hard to believe at first, but the rash was getting worse and my body felt so weak. Once the pill was invented and distributed to everyone, we all got better! But it's a shame there isn't a real cure."
"Yeah," I said.
As I looked out the window I saw what I knew was a normal occurrence but now that I was actually paying attention felt odd. Billboards advertising the drug and the dangers of the disease were everywhere. They struck fear into even my heart. Was this all just propaganda? What the hell was going on?
As we turned a corner there was a very disturbing image of a decomposing blue body.
"Don't want this to happen to you? Remember the daily drug dose is two!"
On the streets I could see members of the "Department of Disease control" walking up and down the streets fully armed. I avoided their eyes and continued to look forwards. I was ready to die today, but instead I was reborn. And now I knew I had to do something... but what?
Thanks so much for reading! The story is continued in the comments and if you'd like to read more by me please check out my other comments in r/writingprompts! | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | The first symptom that dissappeared was the fog that shrouded Andrew’s mind, that had kept him paralyzed in a constant state of lethargy. It was suddenly easy to put the pieces in place, with his lungs working strongly, his body free of its habitual aches. His mind was racing ahead.
“Stop taking the pills!” he told the crowd gathered around him today. He'd been reduced to preaching on street corners like the doomsday prophets that haunted the big cities, but he didn’t care. People listened to them, didn’t they? Maybe they’d listen to him too.
“It’s a big…scam,” he said, struggling to grasp the right word. ‘Scam’ was too small for the crime, but it would have to do. “The pills are keeping us sick, there is no disease! I bet they kept it quiet that they had cured it, or...or something. Maybe reproduced some symptoms in these pills so they can keep taking your money."
"Nutjob," a thin man with a ravaged, pock marked face snapped.
"No, it's true! Stop taking them, and you will - “
He didn’t see the blow aimed at his head, but dimly saw the crowd scatter as he went down. Before his eyes closed, he saw the boots. Horribly familiar, neon green boots. Disease Control.
-------------
A different, smaller crowd was pressed around him when he woke. Fear cluthed at his stomach as he recognised the green clothing, but the Disease Control officials were *smiling* at him, not dragging him off to quarantine.
“Welcome - Andrew, is it? Sorry for that little bump I had to give you, have to keep up appearances and all. The name’s Danny, by the way,” a large man with a neatly trimmed beard said, consulting a device he hadn’t seen in years: a tablet. And where did the man get time or the tools to trim his beard? Andrew rubbed the wild tangle that covered his own face self-consciously.
Danny laughed at the gesture. “You’ll soon look a bit more civilised, my friend, our little community has every luxury you could wish for. It's amazing, the stuff you can find just lying around out there, waiting to be picked up, once you have the strength to look for it."
“How?” he asked hoarsely, and for the first time noticed no-one in the room was sneezing or coughing, no-one was slumped and shivering with convulsions. He hadn’t seen anything like it before: they were all healthy.
“Why, we’re like you, of course,” a plump woman with a cheerful face blurted out, clear blue eyes widening as if shocked he hadn’t guessed. “Too poor to afford the pills, weren't you? We were all ready to die, too. And then we all figured it out, just like you.”
“Figured what out?” he mumbled, but they were bustling him from the room. He blinked in the bright sunlight, and struggled to understand what he was seeing.
Beautiful, sprawling homes built of solid timber or stone, not a single shack in sight *here*. Healthy children playing on the streets, shrieking with laughter. And a towering electric fence surrounding everything, a sure sign of a community that had been gated off. A quarantined community, he had always been told, its citizens doomed to death.
“Take a look, Andrew,” Danny said proudly. “We managed to overtake this place years ago, we never have visitors for some reason."
He laughed uproariously.
"We were all poor and desperate once, swallowing the pills," he explained, slapping Andrew on the back. "Well, none of us have had any pills in years, and we've never been better. We’ve even got a collection of Disease Control uniforms, gathered over the years, for when we venture out. No-one bothers Disease Control.”
The others chuckled as if this was a wonderful joke.
“And we got to pretend some symptoms too, if we go out, but that’s just the price of keeping the secret, I always say,” the woman said, and suddenly grasped his hand. “I’m Marnie, by the way. Glad you get to join us, Andy!”
“It’s Andrew,” he said, pulling his hand free and staring at them, his head starting to pound as he tried to make sense of things. “I’m sorry, secret? Why haven’t you told *everyone*? Why are you keeping this from people? I’ve got to get out, got to find my family. They don’t know, nobody knows…”
There was a moment of silence, Marnie and Danny sharing a quick look that he struggled to understand. Then they smiled and patted his arm reassuringly, drowning his objections as they pulled him along into a small, empty house.
"Sleep on it," Danny said. "You can decide in the morning, okay? Our community is small, and we can always use new people. We'd sure love for you to stay."
"Here's an idea: you can get *everyone* to join you if you tell people the truth," Andrew said, but they just walked away, some shaking their heads at his suggestion.
"We'll talk again in the morning, alright? Everything will make sense soon, I promise," Danny grinned at him, and gently closed the door after him, leaving Andrew alone.
He tried to summon the energy to leave the village, but a massive bed dominated the room they'd put him in, and his head was still throbbing from where Danny had hit him. He crawled in, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress, and was instantly taken back to his childhood. This was how it had been then - safety and warmth, no illness ravaging people. No illness...
When he stepped outside the next morning, it was pleasantly warm, the sky a deep shade of blue. It suited this place, with the laughing people ambling down the streets. Their eyes bright with health, not fever. He passed them, and a few called greetings - how had they learned his name so quickly? Did they think him a part of their town already? He was oddly touched.
“Slept well? Wonderful beds, right?" a bright voice asked, and he turned to find Marnie grinning at him, wearing casual clothes instead of the green uniform. "Made up your mind?"
"I've...got to go. Have to find my family, they simply have to know," he said, not without regret. It was a hard thing, turning away from this dreamlike town of health and happiness. Maybe he was dreaming, and would forget it all in the morning. He would almost prefer it.
"Meet the others, at least, before you leave,” Marnie insisted, taking his hand again and pointing to a large building in the centre of town. A wave of sound spilled out. “That's our Town Hall, so to speak. They’re all having breakfast. The least we could do is give you a solid meal before you go, bet you haven't had that in a while, eh?”
He was starving, his appetite had roared to life after he stopped taking the pills. He belatedly remembered that he hadn't eaten anything last night, either.
“Yeah, I'm pretty hungry," he muttered, as Marnie laughed and led him inside.
“That’s the spirit, you’ll fit in here in no time, don’t worry,” she said, as if that were his main concern. “Hey, Sophie! Town special for this one, he needs a good pick-me-up.”
A woman with a bob of brown hair gave him a searching look, before nodding slowly. Soon, he had a plate of bacon and eggs in hand. The Disease Control 'officials' he'd met waved from a table, beaming at him. Danny eyed him as he dug into the food, and offered another explanation.
“Don't you see we’re all rich for the first time in our lives, Andrew? Our lives are *better*,” he said gently. “We’re the only ones with health and the will to rebuild our lives. Think what would happen if the truth spread. We would lose everything, could very well lose our lives. Why, the masses will come for everything we’ve built once they regain their strength, you know they will."
"...bunch of savages," someone muttered, who was nodding along knowingly to Danny's words.
They watched him intently as he ate, as if waiting for his decision.
“Look, this place is amazing,” he said, finishing the food and still longing for more. Danny's wide grin faded as he continued.
“But I can't believe you've kept this to yourselves. It makes no sense, walling yourself from the world. Don’t you know what’s out there, how wrong everything has gone? How can you just sit here and ignore that?”
“Oh, don't look at the world, why would you want to do that? Depressing place. Just look at this amazing town, instead. Everything's right as rain in here, Andy,” Marnie said, sharing another unfathomable look with Danny before handing him a drink. “Juice?”
He drank it in one long gulp, desperately thirsty after the stack of bacon he'd gobbled up.
“No. It’s not right,” he said. “It’s - "
But he never got the words out. He was choking, and they were simply staring at him, Danny continuing to eat his own meal as Andrew began shaking with convulsions.
“Help me!” he gasped. “Can't…breathe...”
“Yes, the original illness does that,” Danny said, studying Andrew with interest as he trembled violently. “Available in drug form, can you believe it? One of their many little experiments. We found samples of it all, over the years, they have everything in the Disease Control centres. Uniforms aren’t the only thing we’ve stockpiled. It’s fairly unpleasent, but quick, if that makes you feel any better. Horrible, of course, but it acts fast. Can be cured quite easily too, as it turns out. I wish you’d have thought it over. *Outsiders*. So many of you never give this place a chance, and for what? Caught up in morality from a bygone age. Let's-just-tell-everyone, blah, blah, blah...”
“Many of us?” Andrew whispered, before the world went blessedly dark.
---------
**Story edited and lengthened to improve pacing.**
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | "I'm not dead! I swear I'm not on my drugs either, take me seriously we have to get this out!" Dave pounded on the one-way windows again, but received no answer. Since the day he became homeless, he ran out of money for his drugs... But unlike the others, he wasn't dead. He wasn't one of those raging *things* people became when they went off their meds. Why couldn't anyone see that?! He let others a scream as a mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and fastened him into a depression in the wall. He struggled against the electrodes placed on his head and chest but couldn't, even with his new form. From behind the reinforced glass, Special Agent M sighed. Yet another containment breach, but somehow this one hadn't infected any more citizens. Turning away form the frothing, shaking monster that the man had become, he turned to the scientist next to him. "Any signs of brain activity? Do we have any indication that this one is conscious?" Frowning, the bespectacled woman beside him said "It seems that he is, his brainwave activity is closer to that of a normal human than many others. If you authorize me, maybe we could-" A sharp hand motion, and she was cut off. "No. I have my orders, and we don't want want a repeat of last time. 37 dead, more wounded, and the by the time the mutant destabilized it we barely had it concealed from the public. Terminate it." The woman looked around at her colleagues, all of whom looked at the sterile white floor. "Wh-what? But he's still a person, if we administer enough of the compound we could-" The Special Agent laughed. "Lead Researcher Xi, why don't you educate your newest recruit?" With a gulp, he stepped forward. "Amanda, you may be too young to remember, but the rest of us haven't forgotten the last outbreak. It was terrible...our own creation infected so many, leaving so much death. It's all we can do to update our cure, keep the virus under control, but letting even a single mutant survive is asking for new strains to show up." Amanda turned away from watching the arm reposition the electrodes onto the mutants changing and moving internal organs, looking at the people she had once respected. She had become a scientist in The Company to save people, help them, but now they had an opportunity and wasted it. "Light him up, he's starting to go into the next phase!" Shouted the Agent. Before she could do anything, two of the security guards quickly activated the paralysis protocol in her implant. Amanda was still vaguely aware of the mutants screams and spasms as it was electrocuted, the virus attempting to survive even in it's dying throes. "Alright boys, get her outta here. Dr. Xi, If she's not better by tomorrow..." But she couldn't hear anymore, the implant-chip locked doors slamming shut behind her as security dragged her away. She only had one thought-she had to save the next one, even if it killed her. ----------------Sorry about formatting I'm on mobile, also I just picked the names from random things I saw on Reddit today. Also I won't continue it because I don't have time and because it ends here for me.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
| "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Morning, sweetheart," the woman says, pressing her lips against my forehead. The smell of vanilla from her perfume mingles with the coffee she's placed on my beside table; it creates a tempest of memories that I can't place order to.
"Jessica?" I whisper. I know something is wrong, but I don't want to know what that something is.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asks, her smoky voice sending singals down by body. She slips a bra strap free from her shoulder.
"You're dead..." I say, my voice barely audible. But the taste of her tongue in my mouth pushes the thought out of my head, replacing it with a violent, primal urge.
She pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me, straddling me. She has one hand behind her back and raises the other to her lips.
"Hush, baby," she says.
"Oh God!" I yell, as I see the knife in her other hand. I try to push her off me - to take the blade from her - but I can't move my arms.
"Please," I beg. "Don't. "
She smiles as she runs the knife across her neck.
Warm liquid covers my body.
---
I wake in a pool of sweat. The nightmares are getting worse. More *intense*. They are all of Jessica - my sweet Jessica. It had been over four years since I'd found her body lying in a pool of red syrup.
To be expected, Gov had said. She'd stopped taking her pills for three weeks and had suffered an aneurysm. Ruptured blood vessels and capillaries in her brain and body.
Now its my turn - I can't afford the pills for another week. Three days without them, and I'm already a wreck. How long until my brain blows? Until someone finds me in a pool of blood.
---
"Morning Mike," Tom says to me, a wide smile on his fat face.
"Hey, Tom," I say. "How's work going?"
I wonder if his heart will stop before my brain. The pill can't protect him from heart disease.
"Jeez buddy, you don't look so good."
"I've not been sleeping well."
"Oh Mike, you've not been playing poker again, have you?"
*None of your fucking business.* "No, Tom," I say.
"Cause you know what they say - a fool and his money are soon parted."
"I better get to work."
"Sure thing. See you later, buddy."
"Great."
I sit down on my plastic chair, the pain in my back twists in like a corkscrew. Ten bright monitors stare obnoxiously at me, showing feeds of the corridors across the hospital. Doctors, patients, visitors. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm going to lose my job, if anything ever happens, because I won't be doing shit to stop it.
It's early, but I take out half my sandwich and sink my teeth into the peanut putter and bread. It sticks to the top of my mouth and I press it with my tongue, daring it to stay there.
It takes me a moment to recognise her, on monitor six. She's looking away from the camera, and her hair's a different colour. But she turns, glancing at me for a split second. I almost choke on my food, as I turn the camera to follow her down the hall.
I watch, stunned, motionless, as my dead wife takes the stairwell to the janitorial basement. Somewhere my cameras can't follow.
"Jessica," I whisper, tasting her name. "I'm coming baby."
---
The basement is cold from damp, and only flickering staccato lights allow me to navigate my way through. The basement rooms twist and turn until eventually I find another door - another set of stairs, leading me deeper down into the bowels of the Gov hospital.
This floor is more a network of passages, than a basement, and I am soon lost.
"Jessica?" I yell. "Jessica!"
"I'm here," comes a faint reply.
I follow the voice, my heart fluttering. The gloom grows like cancer around me, as I push further into the tunnels.
I step into a large space, it's too dark to see anything, but I hear steady breathing.
"Jessica?"
"Who are you," comes the voice from behind me.
A light flicks on, chasing the darkness away.
I turn to find a blonde lady pointing a gun at my chest.
"You're not Jessica," I say, my shoulders falling.
"Jessica?" she repeats, her face scrunched up in suspicion.
"My wife. She's dead. Didn't take her pills."
"Oh." Her body relaxes slightly. "Gov told you that's why she died?"
I nod.
She says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, she seems reluctant.
"The pills don't kill you. Not exactly."
"You're wrong," I snap. "That's how Jessica died, and... I've not been taking them," I confess. "Three days so far, and I already feel like crap."
"*Three days?* Shit."
"What?"
"Your wife was found in a pool of blood, right? Gov said her heart blew, or maybe her brain."
"How do you-"
"She didn't die because of the pills - well, not exactly. Gov killed her."
"*What?*"
"Three days," she repeats. "You need to come with me. Now."
| "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | **Part One (Part Two and Three in Comments)**
The pills were heavy in my hands. I moved them around my palm, watching them bump into one another. Dim light spilled into my bedroom as I took in a deep breath. I knew Mom was cooking breakfast and Dad was at work, desperately trying to make enough money for us to live... but this wasn't living. We were already dead, moving through the motions of survival to be able to afford just another miserable day... and I couldn't do it anymore.
"Steph?" Mom called through my door, "Honey did you take your medication? Food is ready!" She tapped on the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, "I just took them now. I'm getting dressed."
"Okay hun," She said, "Just hurry up or you'll be late."
I nodded. I could hear her footsteps disappear around the corner. I glanced at the rash on my arm. I wondered what it would be like to have it spread over my body. I wondered what it felt like to die... to finally let the disease kill me. Would it be pain or peace?
I shook my head, I didn't want to think about it anymore. These pills had ruled my life since I was five. They had clouded my mind and made me afraid each and every day. It was time to let go. Time to be free.
Walking over to my trash can I tipped my hand so the pills fell into the bin. I threw some tissues over them and fell onto my bed. I put my hands over my face. The Department of Disease control warned us that the symptoms would become worse within four hours of missing our dose. That the rash would slowly cover our entire body as fluids filled our lungs. We would be suffocated by our own insides... it wasn't a pleasant death they warned... but is any death not painful?
---
I sat in the car for a moment with my Mom. She glanced at me and turned off the engine.
"What is it?" she said, reaching over and pushing my hair off my brow. "Come on Steph, you can tell me."
I met her eyes. They were bright and blue. I tried to remember what it was like to see them for the first time. I wish I could remember what it was like to grow inside her and feel her heart so close to me. It made my own heart hurt knowing how much pain I was about to cause her... but it was a valiant choice wasn't it? So that she and Dad could actually have a life.
"I'm just... I'm worried about my test today." I said. "I don't think I studied enough."
"Oh," Mom said, "Well hun, I know how much you study and I can tell you'll be just fine. Now off you go. I'll pick you up at 3:00."
I reached over and hugged her like I had never hugged her before. I took in a deep breath of the smell of her hair and her perfume. She always wore the same kind... ever since I was a baby.
"Bye Mom," I said.
"See you later hun." She said.
I opened the car door and walked towards the school, trying to not let the tears hiding behind my eyes pool over the sides. I walked with my head down towards the door and, once I was sure Mom's car had gone, I turned my direction towards the forest.
I didn't stop walking until I was deep within the trees. The forest floor was riddled with old newspapers and signs that were historical relics of the time before the Monarchy. I continued with the turning paths until I found a little clearing filled with flowers and bright sunlight. I dropped my bag to the side and glanced at my watch: two hours. It had been two hours since I had missed my medication. I sat down and then laid back in the grass. I allowed the sunshine to warm my face. I tried to focus on how the grass felt against my skin. How the breeze swept my hair. I wasn't sure what I would miss most about living. My life had been filled with suffering just like everyone else. Perhaps death would finally be the escape we had all bee seeking. Maybe that's why the disease happened in the first place.
Three hours.
My heart was pounding faster than ever before. I could feel an itch against my skin, as if I had been bitten by some little bugs. My vision became sharper as my mind began to feel more alive. I felt like I couldn't breath. The air seemed thinner. Perhaps the liquid was finally filling my lungs.
Four hours.
It should be any moment now. I tried to brace myself for the pain but I wasn't quite sure how one did that. Thinking about it definitely made it worse, but you only die once so maybe I want to focus on every moment of it and try to enjoy it for the human experience that it was? It should all happen soon... it was just a matter of minutes.
Five hours.
I waited. The sun had moved in the sky. Birds were singing happily. I kept my eyes closed. The pain should kick in any time now. That's what all the reports stated when they found bodies of the people who could no longer afford the drugs.
"Exactly four hours after he had missed his daily dose the newest disease victim was found my the Department of Disease control. His body completely blue from suffocation. Let this be a reminder and a warning to all, take your medications on time or this body could be yours."
Six hours.
I sat up and looked around. I glanced at my watch. It had been six hours. SIX. Maybe my body was just better at keeping the treatment drug in my system. Or maybe the disease was weaker in me. I looked at my rash but it wasn't there anymore. I pulled up my shirt. My skin was clearer than it had ever been. There were no aches or spots. The pains that had filled my head had seemed to escape out my ears. I pushed my hair off my brow and took in a deep breath.
Something was buzzing. I reached into my backpack to get my phone. Mom's face was on the screen with her contact name under it. I answered it and held it to my ear shaking only slightly.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie," Mom's voice said, "Hun I'm at the school to pick you up. Where are you? Your Principal said you missed all your classes today."
"I'm sorry," I said, the tears actually falling from my eyes now. "I... I went for a walk in the woods today because I was so nervous for my test and I got lost and then when i finally found my way it didn't make sense to go back to the school."
Mom sighed. "It's okay hun are you at the school now, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I said. "I'll be there soon. But can we talk to the Principal about this tomorrow? I just want to go home."
"Okay, okay," she cooed. "It'll be alright. Just get to the school, we'll go home and talk about it. Call me in a few minutes so I know not to worry."
I stood up. My legs felt stronger, as if my aching muscles had healed themselves. I began to walk back to the school but I felt the sudden desire to be running. I suddenly had so much energy. I felt like I could climb a tree or jump to the stars. I laughed as I ran, doing cartwheels and jumping over junk. I felt alive. Like truly alive. But what did it all mean?
Mom was waiting for me outside the school. She had an expression on her face that was a mix between concern and worry. She opened her arms as I approached and hugged me tightly.
"I was very worried," she said, "I'm glad you are alright."
I hugged her tightly. When I pulled away I noticed something about her that I hadn't before. She seemed almost robotic. There wasn't much about her and her expressions were minor to non-existent. We walked towards the car and she began to drive again making me think about a robot. But now that I was paying attention, everyone looked like a robot, or like they were sleep walking. They performed tasks and went about their business. But they seemed... well it was hard to say exactly what they were like, but it made me uncomfortable.
"Mom," I said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes of course," Mom said, "I have never felt so good since the Drug to help the disease was invented. It almost killed me you know."
"No i don't know," I said, "What happened?"
"Well," Mom said, "One day at work everyone in the office developped this horrible rash all over their bodies. And that evening the news was talking about it and how it was a non-curable disease that had taken over the *entire* world. It was hard to believe at first, but the rash was getting worse and my body felt so weak. Once the pill was invented and distributed to everyone, we all got better! But it's a shame there isn't a real cure."
"Yeah," I said.
As I looked out the window I saw what I knew was a normal occurrence but now that I was actually paying attention felt odd. Billboards advertising the drug and the dangers of the disease were everywhere. They struck fear into even my heart. Was this all just propaganda? What the hell was going on?
As we turned a corner there was a very disturbing image of a decomposing blue body.
"Don't want this to happen to you? Remember the daily drug dose is two!"
On the streets I could see members of the "Department of Disease control" walking up and down the streets fully armed. I avoided their eyes and continued to look forwards. I was ready to die today, but instead I was reborn. And now I knew I had to do something... but what?
Thanks so much for reading! The story is continued in the comments and if you'd like to read more by me please check out my other comments in r/writingprompts! | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | The first symptom that dissappeared was the fog that shrouded Andrew’s mind, that had kept him paralyzed in a constant state of lethargy. It was suddenly easy to put the pieces in place, with his lungs working strongly, his body free of its habitual aches. His mind was racing ahead.
“Stop taking the pills!” he told the crowd gathered around him today. He'd been reduced to preaching on street corners like the doomsday prophets that haunted the big cities, but he didn’t care. People listened to them, didn’t they? Maybe they’d listen to him too.
“It’s a big…scam,” he said, struggling to grasp the right word. ‘Scam’ was too small for the crime, but it would have to do. “The pills are keeping us sick, there is no disease! I bet they kept it quiet that they had cured it, or...or something. Maybe reproduced some symptoms in these pills so they can keep taking your money."
"Nutjob," a thin man with a ravaged, pock marked face snapped.
"No, it's true! Stop taking them, and you will - “
He didn’t see the blow aimed at his head, but dimly saw the crowd scatter as he went down. Before his eyes closed, he saw the boots. Horribly familiar, neon green boots. Disease Control.
-------------
A different, smaller crowd was pressed around him when he woke. Fear cluthed at his stomach as he recognised the green clothing, but the Disease Control officials were *smiling* at him, not dragging him off to quarantine.
“Welcome - Andrew, is it? Sorry for that little bump I had to give you, have to keep up appearances and all. The name’s Danny, by the way,” a large man with a neatly trimmed beard said, consulting a device he hadn’t seen in years: a tablet. And where did the man get time or the tools to trim his beard? Andrew rubbed the wild tangle that covered his own face self-consciously.
Danny laughed at the gesture. “You’ll soon look a bit more civilised, my friend, our little community has every luxury you could wish for. It's amazing, the stuff you can find just lying around out there, waiting to be picked up, once you have the strength to look for it."
“How?” he asked hoarsely, and for the first time noticed no-one in the room was sneezing or coughing, no-one was slumped and shivering with convulsions. He hadn’t seen anything like it before: they were all healthy.
“Why, we’re like you, of course,” a plump woman with a cheerful face blurted out, clear blue eyes widening as if shocked he hadn’t guessed. “Too poor to afford the pills, weren't you? We were all ready to die, too. And then we all figured it out, just like you.”
“Figured what out?” he mumbled, but they were bustling him from the room. He blinked in the bright sunlight, and struggled to understand what he was seeing.
Beautiful, sprawling homes built of solid timber or stone, not a single shack in sight *here*. Healthy children playing on the streets, shrieking with laughter. And a towering electric fence surrounding everything, a sure sign of a community that had been gated off. A quarantined community, he had always been told, its citizens doomed to death.
“Take a look, Andrew,” Danny said proudly. “We managed to overtake this place years ago, we never have visitors for some reason."
He laughed uproariously.
"We were all poor and desperate once, swallowing the pills," he explained, slapping Andrew on the back. "Well, none of us have had any pills in years, and we've never been better. We’ve even got a collection of Disease Control uniforms, gathered over the years, for when we venture out. No-one bothers Disease Control.”
The others chuckled as if this was a wonderful joke.
“And we got to pretend some symptoms too, if we go out, but that’s just the price of keeping the secret, I always say,” the woman said, and suddenly grasped his hand. “I’m Marnie, by the way. Glad you get to join us, Andy!”
“It’s Andrew,” he said, pulling his hand free and staring at them, his head starting to pound as he tried to make sense of things. “I’m sorry, secret? Why haven’t you told *everyone*? Why are you keeping this from people? I’ve got to get out, got to find my family. They don’t know, nobody knows…”
There was a moment of silence, Marnie and Danny sharing a quick look that he struggled to understand. Then they smiled and patted his arm reassuringly, drowning his objections as they pulled him along into a small, empty house.
"Sleep on it," Danny said. "You can decide in the morning, okay? Our community is small, and we can always use new people. We'd sure love for you to stay."
"Here's an idea: you can get *everyone* to join you if you tell people the truth," Andrew said, but they just walked away, some shaking their heads at his suggestion.
"We'll talk again in the morning, alright? Everything will make sense soon, I promise," Danny grinned at him, and gently closed the door after him, leaving Andrew alone.
He tried to summon the energy to leave the village, but a massive bed dominated the room they'd put him in, and his head was still throbbing from where Danny had hit him. He crawled in, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress, and was instantly taken back to his childhood. This was how it had been then - safety and warmth, no illness ravaging people. No illness...
When he stepped outside the next morning, it was pleasantly warm, the sky a deep shade of blue. It suited this place, with the laughing people ambling down the streets. Their eyes bright with health, not fever. He passed them, and a few called greetings - how had they learned his name so quickly? Did they think him a part of their town already? He was oddly touched.
“Slept well? Wonderful beds, right?" a bright voice asked, and he turned to find Marnie grinning at him, wearing casual clothes instead of the green uniform. "Made up your mind?"
"I've...got to go. Have to find my family, they simply have to know," he said, not without regret. It was a hard thing, turning away from this dreamlike town of health and happiness. Maybe he was dreaming, and would forget it all in the morning. He would almost prefer it.
"Meet the others, at least, before you leave,” Marnie insisted, taking his hand again and pointing to a large building in the centre of town. A wave of sound spilled out. “That's our Town Hall, so to speak. They’re all having breakfast. The least we could do is give you a solid meal before you go, bet you haven't had that in a while, eh?”
He was starving, his appetite had roared to life after he stopped taking the pills. He belatedly remembered that he hadn't eaten anything last night, either.
“Yeah, I'm pretty hungry," he muttered, as Marnie laughed and led him inside.
“That’s the spirit, you’ll fit in here in no time, don’t worry,” she said, as if that were his main concern. “Hey, Sophie! Town special for this one, he needs a good pick-me-up.”
A woman with a bob of brown hair gave him a searching look, before nodding slowly. Soon, he had a plate of bacon and eggs in hand. The Disease Control 'officials' he'd met waved from a table, beaming at him. Danny eyed him as he dug into the food, and offered another explanation.
“Don't you see we’re all rich for the first time in our lives, Andrew? Our lives are *better*,” he said gently. “We’re the only ones with health and the will to rebuild our lives. Think what would happen if the truth spread. We would lose everything, could very well lose our lives. Why, the masses will come for everything we’ve built once they regain their strength, you know they will."
"...bunch of savages," someone muttered, who was nodding along knowingly to Danny's words.
They watched him intently as he ate, as if waiting for his decision.
“Look, this place is amazing,” he said, finishing the food and still longing for more. Danny's wide grin faded as he continued.
“But I can't believe you've kept this to yourselves. It makes no sense, walling yourself from the world. Don’t you know what’s out there, how wrong everything has gone? How can you just sit here and ignore that?”
“Oh, don't look at the world, why would you want to do that? Depressing place. Just look at this amazing town, instead. Everything's right as rain in here, Andy,” Marnie said, sharing another unfathomable look with Danny before handing him a drink. “Juice?”
He drank it in one long gulp, desperately thirsty after the stack of bacon he'd gobbled up.
“No. It’s not right,” he said. “It’s - "
But he never got the words out. He was choking, and they were simply staring at him, Danny continuing to eat his own meal as Andrew began shaking with convulsions.
“Help me!” he gasped. “Can't…breathe...”
“Yes, the original illness does that,” Danny said, studying Andrew with interest as he trembled violently. “Available in drug form, can you believe it? One of their many little experiments. We found samples of it all, over the years, they have everything in the Disease Control centres. Uniforms aren’t the only thing we’ve stockpiled. It’s fairly unpleasent, but quick, if that makes you feel any better. Horrible, of course, but it acts fast. Can be cured quite easily too, as it turns out. I wish you’d have thought it over. *Outsiders*. So many of you never give this place a chance, and for what? Caught up in morality from a bygone age. Let's-just-tell-everyone, blah, blah, blah...”
“Many of us?” Andrew whispered, before the world went blessedly dark.
---------
**Story edited and lengthened to improve pacing.**
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Find below the last words of Brian Grayson. Who was the richest window cleaner ever grace the halls of PharmaCorp.
Every day I stared at the numbers on the screen which detailed how little money, and therefore time I had left.
Like most people since The Disease (or TD as it is now commonly called) I worked for PharmaCorp. Pharmaceutical companies had been powerful even before TD hit, but now that life literally dependent on their products they had become central pillars of our new modern society.
Students go to school so they could learn skills that would be useful to PharmaCorp. Even now before having children couples have to petition PharamaCorp HR to do a financial check on whether or not they can afford the medication that would see their child through to adulthood. The cycle starts again when that child can finally start working for PharmaCorp themselves to earn their own medication money. My parents managed to save enough money for me, but I’ve never been able earn enough to raise a family of my own.
In our modern world the only people who get to experience freedom are those related to the PharmaCorp Board of Directors. Who else could afford to? Having a monopoly on the drug which keeps humanity alive means that you can charge whatever you wish for it this means that most of your income is now being spent on simply keeping you alive.
But I finally discovered a way to break the system. What was the point of living a life where I was only making just enough to exist? I was going to sell my family house and live like an executive for as long as I could. I knew it was a death sentence, but for the first time in my life, I finally felt free.
I quit my job and purchased a small boat, claiming to be the cousin of PharmaCorp’s CFO meant that no one was surprised that I had enough money for the small vessel. I stocked it with enough rich food, alcohol to last me… well till the end of my days.
TD was meant to kill me 3 days ago now. I’ve have no idea how to drive a boat back to land in order to get more supplies and I’m down to half a bottle of champagne and three cheese crackers.
To whoever finds this note, I did NOT die of TD. TD is a lie. PharmaCorp is a Lie. Live your life for you! I might have only had a week but I’ve lived more in that last 7 days than in the previous 28.
Brian Grayson
| "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | "Order! Order in the court! The defendant, Ernst Yeates will now hereby willingly pay the plaintiff, Charlotte Reede 80% of his salary, and will lose the full custody of his children." declares the judge in a strong and clear voice. He cracks down the hammer, defeating me in a single blow.
The silence is unbearable. A pin drop could have broken such fragile silence in an instant. Fortunately, makes a decision to break it. The great clock above the judge chimes a merry jingle, the bell resonating four times. The effect is almost instantaneous; everyone scrambles around looking for something.
A red label dictates our ingestion timetable: "One pill per hour, whilst awake, for the duration of the pandemic." I swallow the curious pink pill that now acts as our timekeeping devices. I choke on mine. Nervously, I tip my glass of water back down my gullet. I slam the glass down on the table, and swallow hard, my head hung low. Looking up, I see her, the person I once loved the most in the whole world. I look at her, closer. She looks gorgeous, all dressed up like that.
I still remember the day I bought her that dress. Such joy, such happiness, such love she gave to that dress, and she had to go off and wear it today. All the beauty has disappeared. Not only in our lives, but in everyone else's.
Three years ago, my life was perfect. I was earning good money in a pharmaceutical company, called MediCorp, managing everyone's accounts, and payments. I worked well, and worked hard. I came home to a loving family in east Manhattan, as she always finished work before I did.
A "Wonder Weapon Against Death" was developed. The principle was simple: aging occurs because the caps on our chromosomes erode when multiplying, and if they reach the DNA, it erodes the genetic data. This "Super Weapon" regrows the caps. It was developed in secret, away from prying eyes. Upon it's release, the new bacterial cure was sensational: competitiors started immediate work on their own cure. Sales skyrocketed and the shareholder values exceeded all expectations. Soon after, the government got involved, and demanded MediCorp to give it 50% of the earnings from the cure.
MediCorp then started to cut corners, using slightly different, cheaper methods and chemicals. The cure backfired drastically, reducing the DNA strands down in less than an hour, removing all traces of how the body should grow, and develop. The bacterium then set it's own genetic data in the nucleus.
At first, no one noticed, but then, their bodies dried up and decayed from lack of blood. A lack of white blood cells meant that any bacteria or virus flourished within the body, and the "bacterium X" hijacked the human cells to reproduce the bacteria. Those who injected themselves with "The Wonder Cure" died a not so wonderous death, holed up in a quarantined house, festering alive. Only the rich could afford them, and most of the pompous high class died. In one day, the bacteria eradicated 5% of the world population, clearing much of the richer cities of their inhabitants. Emergency protocols were imposed in different countries. Borders were sealed, and martial law imposed.
MediCorp instantly went bankrupt. With the CEO's bank account reserves, they developed a cure to the bacterium. It didn't remove the bacteria from the patient, but it rebuilt the DNA the cells lost. The bacterium itself could never die. The cure received government approval, and was declared the official cure. All other pharmaceutical companies were outlawed. Martial law included taking these pink pills, once per hour. Something fishy was definitely going on. I wonder if it could be...
"Ernst? Hey, Ernst?" queries a soft voice. It resonated around my skull, until I woke up as to where I actually was, still stuck in a country with martial law imposed, quarantined from the rest of the world from fear of contracting a much more serious strain of bacteria. We have no foreign embassies, we have no connection to the outside world. We simply assume the worst: that the US is the only country with a stable government, that isn't stuggling, that isn't dying from invincible, mutated bacteria. It makes life easier to bear.
"Ernst?" the voice asks again. This time, I find where the voice is coming from. I look at her, her beauty makes everything around her shine. I avoid her gaze, bringing my head down, looking at all the papers scattered across the table.
"I'm so sorry. I just need it, but not only for me, for the kids. We may not love each other, but we love our children, don't we?" I do nothing. I merely search for her eyes, something to hold me stable.
"Yes, yes I do, but 80? You have a job as well, why 80?" I dig deeper into her, to find what secrets she has buried deep within herself.
"You don't need to know. Just know that I will be there if you need me." She drops her voice to a whisper, and leans closer towards me. "That 80 isn't for me or the kids, it's for something bigger than us." She stands up straight and speaks louder. "Now, don't worry, you can deal with it. You're an accountant. You will be able to see the kids twice a month. Goodbye." She strides away, leaving everything she once stood for behind her. Including me.
I walk home. The police hang around every important avenue, armed with automatics. They don't do anything, they just stand there, waiting for another case to happen, for another intervention to display their skills as a team. New York, once a thriving, breathing metropolis, now appears dead. Lights are turned off one by one, as the policies invade our lives. 5th Avenue now looks like a ghost town, without people, without cars, without intentions.
I arrive at my flat. Well, a penthouse really. The death of the upper class led to a massive housing market crash, as people left the cities in fear. I look out at the dark skyline of New York. Who could think that this was once a bustling city? Could this city be like my life? Where I, like the city, die without anybody living in it? I work to pay my food, my bills, my heavy taxes, nothing more, not even those pink pills. I'm working to give money to my ex-wife's savings account. I should leave, never to come back. If I'm going to die, I might as well see the rest of the world. I pack my bags and leave.
The docks should be this way, past the next block. I make my way over, only to see the police lights flashing in front of me. I look around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. I start sprinting away. I haven't run in years, and I feel *alive*. The police notice me, and flip the sirens on. Running from the howling of the sirens, I head towards the water. There's a speedboat docked to the quay. It may be old, it may be rusting, but it's my only hope at my escape. A second squad car screeches from my right, headed straight at me. A flight of stairs block my path to the boat. I jump down the stairs, only to crumble upon my landing. I don't care if I'm bleeding, I don't care if I'm hurt, I must run.
I manage to struggle to the boat, panting for breath. The blue lights stop at the top of the docks. The keys must be here somewhere, hidden in the pile of clothes which was once a rich man. I grab them. Turning the keys, a tannoy voice shouts. "Stop running! Stop, in the name of the law! Or we will be forced to fire upon you!"
I turn the accelerator up, and the engine splutters to life. The racking of guns behind me was supposed to be a deterrent, but I'm too deep into this now, I need to go. As I speed away, the bullets start coming. The metal paneling of the boat protects me from most of harm, but I only need one well placed bullet for me to die, not that death has much meaning to me. A helicopter flies overhead, illuminating the boat. A single shot comes from the helicopter, but it's all I need. It strikes me in my back, shredding through my duffel bag, and lodging itself in my side. I fall down. The boat still speeds ahead, through the choppy ocean. I can't feel anything. Numbness overcomes all my senses, as I close my eyes, for the last time, I hope.
The pale blue sky is the only thing I see upon waking. No clouds, no waves. Pain. Pain is everything I feel. I get up. I look behind me. A giant ship looms over me. Many hearty faces look down at me. A voice calls out, telling me to not panic, that they are here to rescue me. A rope ladder tumbles down the side of the ship and splashes into the water. The voice tells me to climb it. I comply reluctantly, uncertain of my fate.
When I get to the top, a man dressed in a captain's uniform greets me with a grand smile through his mighty beard. "How's it going then, eh? Good thing we saved you when we did, the waves will be choppy tonight, don't want ou going overboard!"
The captain grins at me.
"I'm not...dead?" I whisper, my throat dry and puckered from lack of water.
"Dead? Well you're talking to me, so, no!" He lets out a mighty laugh. Everyone else around him chuckles.
"But I haven't been taking my medication... My body isn't dead yet?" I pull out the box of pills. The captain grabs the box and looks carefully at it. "What's this, then?" he asks, curious.
"Drugs to save my life. My cells are dying, and this helps stop it. The pandemic? MediCorp?" I struggle to speak.
"The MediCorp Pandemic? We cured that years ago! These pills taste like oranges, so it sounds like you solved it too!"
I'm lost. Why would the government lie? Why would they confine us to living like rats? I don't know, and will never find out. I collapse from lack of blood. The sky is so blue, so pretty. If only I could live a little longer...
(Edit: Finally finished the story!) |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "Order! Order in the court! The defendant, Ernst Yeates will now hereby willingly pay the plaintiff, Charlotte Reede 80% of his salary, and will lose the full custody of his children." declares the judge in a strong and clear voice. He cracks down the hammer, defeating me in a single blow.
The silence is unbearable. A pin drop could have broken such fragile silence in an instant. Fortunately, makes a decision to break it. The great clock above the judge chimes a merry jingle, the bell resonating four times. The effect is almost instantaneous; everyone scrambles around looking for something.
A red label dictates our ingestion timetable: "One pill per hour, whilst awake, for the duration of the pandemic." I swallow the curious pink pill that now acts as our timekeeping devices. I choke on mine. Nervously, I tip my glass of water back down my gullet. I slam the glass down on the table, and swallow hard, my head hung low. Looking up, I see her, the person I once loved the most in the whole world. I look at her, closer. She looks gorgeous, all dressed up like that.
I still remember the day I bought her that dress. Such joy, such happiness, such love she gave to that dress, and she had to go off and wear it today. All the beauty has disappeared. Not only in our lives, but in everyone else's.
Three years ago, my life was perfect. I was earning good money in a pharmaceutical company, called MediCorp, managing everyone's accounts, and payments. I worked well, and worked hard. I came home to a loving family in east Manhattan, as she always finished work before I did.
A "Wonder Weapon Against Death" was developed. The principle was simple: aging occurs because the caps on our chromosomes erode when multiplying, and if they reach the DNA, it erodes the genetic data. This "Super Weapon" regrows the caps. It was developed in secret, away from prying eyes. Upon it's release, the new bacterial cure was sensational: competitiors started immediate work on their own cure. Sales skyrocketed and the shareholder values exceeded all expectations. Soon after, the government got involved, and demanded MediCorp to give it 50% of the earnings from the cure.
MediCorp then started to cut corners, using slightly different, cheaper methods and chemicals. The cure backfired drastically, reducing the DNA strands down in less than an hour, removing all traces of how the body should grow, and develop. The bacterium then set it's own genetic data in the nucleus.
At first, no one noticed, but then, their bodies dried up and decayed from lack of blood. A lack of white blood cells meant that any bacteria or virus flourished within the body, and the "bacterium X" hijacked the human cells to reproduce the bacteria. Those who injected themselves with "The Wonder Cure" died a not so wonderous death, holed up in a quarantined house, festering alive. Only the rich could afford them, and most of the pompous high class died. In one day, the bacteria eradicated 5% of the world population, clearing much of the richer cities of their inhabitants. Emergency protocols were imposed in different countries. Borders were sealed, and martial law imposed.
MediCorp instantly went bankrupt. With the CEO's bank account reserves, they developed a cure to the bacterium. It didn't remove the bacteria from the patient, but it rebuilt the DNA the cells lost. The bacterium itself could never die. The cure received government approval, and was declared the official cure. All other pharmaceutical companies were outlawed. Martial law included taking these pink pills, once per hour. Something fishy was definitely going on. I wonder if it could be...
"Ernst? Hey, Ernst?" queries a soft voice. It resonated around my skull, until I woke up as to where I actually was, still stuck in a country with martial law imposed, quarantined from the rest of the world from fear of contracting a much more serious strain of bacteria. We have no foreign embassies, we have no connection to the outside world. We simply assume the worst: that the US is the only country with a stable government, that isn't stuggling, that isn't dying from invincible, mutated bacteria. It makes life easier to bear.
"Ernst?" the voice asks again. This time, I find where the voice is coming from. I look at her, her beauty makes everything around her shine. I avoid her gaze, bringing my head down, looking at all the papers scattered across the table.
"I'm so sorry. I just need it, but not only for me, for the kids. We may not love each other, but we love our children, don't we?" I do nothing. I merely search for her eyes, something to hold me stable.
"Yes, yes I do, but 80? You have a job as well, why 80?" I dig deeper into her, to find what secrets she has buried deep within herself.
"You don't need to know. Just know that I will be there if you need me." She drops her voice to a whisper, and leans closer towards me. "That 80 isn't for me or the kids, it's for something bigger than us." She stands up straight and speaks louder. "Now, don't worry, you can deal with it. You're an accountant. You will be able to see the kids twice a month. Goodbye." She strides away, leaving everything she once stood for behind her. Including me.
I walk home. The police hang around every important avenue, armed with automatics. They don't do anything, they just stand there, waiting for another case to happen, for another intervention to display their skills as a team. New York, once a thriving, breathing metropolis, now appears dead. Lights are turned off one by one, as the policies invade our lives. 5th Avenue now looks like a ghost town, without people, without cars, without intentions.
I arrive at my flat. Well, a penthouse really. The death of the upper class led to a massive housing market crash, as people left the cities in fear. I look out at the dark skyline of New York. Who could think that this was once a bustling city? Could this city be like my life? Where I, like the city, die without anybody living in it? I work to pay my food, my bills, my heavy taxes, nothing more, not even those pink pills. I'm working to give money to my ex-wife's savings account. I should leave, never to come back. If I'm going to die, I might as well see the rest of the world. I pack my bags and leave.
The docks should be this way, past the next block. I make my way over, only to see the police lights flashing in front of me. I look around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. I start sprinting away. I haven't run in years, and I feel *alive*. The police notice me, and flip the sirens on. Running from the howling of the sirens, I head towards the water. There's a speedboat docked to the quay. It may be old, it may be rusting, but it's my only hope at my escape. A second squad car screeches from my right, headed straight at me. A flight of stairs block my path to the boat. I jump down the stairs, only to crumble upon my landing. I don't care if I'm bleeding, I don't care if I'm hurt, I must run.
I manage to struggle to the boat, panting for breath. The blue lights stop at the top of the docks. The keys must be here somewhere, hidden in the pile of clothes which was once a rich man. I grab them. Turning the keys, a tannoy voice shouts. "Stop running! Stop, in the name of the law! Or we will be forced to fire upon you!"
I turn the accelerator up, and the engine splutters to life. The racking of guns behind me was supposed to be a deterrent, but I'm too deep into this now, I need to go. As I speed away, the bullets start coming. The metal paneling of the boat protects me from most of harm, but I only need one well placed bullet for me to die, not that death has much meaning to me. A helicopter flies overhead, illuminating the boat. A single shot comes from the helicopter, but it's all I need. It strikes me in my back, shredding through my duffel bag, and lodging itself in my side. I fall down. The boat still speeds ahead, through the choppy ocean. I can't feel anything. Numbness overcomes all my senses, as I close my eyes, for the last time, I hope.
The pale blue sky is the only thing I see upon waking. No clouds, no waves. Pain. Pain is everything I feel. I get up. I look behind me. A giant ship looms over me. Many hearty faces look down at me. A voice calls out, telling me to not panic, that they are here to rescue me. A rope ladder tumbles down the side of the ship and splashes into the water. The voice tells me to climb it. I comply reluctantly, uncertain of my fate.
When I get to the top, a man dressed in a captain's uniform greets me with a grand smile through his mighty beard. "How's it going then, eh? Good thing we saved you when we did, the waves will be choppy tonight, don't want ou going overboard!"
The captain grins at me.
"I'm not...dead?" I whisper, my throat dry and puckered from lack of water.
"Dead? Well you're talking to me, so, no!" He lets out a mighty laugh. Everyone else around him chuckles.
"But I haven't been taking my medication... My body isn't dead yet?" I pull out the box of pills. The captain grabs the box and looks carefully at it. "What's this, then?" he asks, curious.
"Drugs to save my life. My cells are dying, and this helps stop it. The pandemic? MediCorp?" I struggle to speak.
"The MediCorp Pandemic? We cured that years ago! These pills taste like oranges, so it sounds like you solved it too!"
I'm lost. Why would the government lie? Why would they confine us to living like rats? I don't know, and will never find out. I collapse from lack of blood. The sky is so blue, so pretty. If only I could live a little longer...
(Edit: Finally finished the story!) |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Morning, sweetheart," the woman says, pressing her lips against my forehead. The smell of vanilla from her perfume mingles with the coffee she's placed on my beside table; it creates a tempest of memories that I can't place order to.
"Jessica?" I whisper. I know something is wrong, but I don't want to know what that something is.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asks, her smoky voice sending singals down by body. She slips a bra strap free from her shoulder.
"You're dead..." I say, my voice barely audible. But the taste of her tongue in my mouth pushes the thought out of my head, replacing it with a violent, primal urge.
She pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me, straddling me. She has one hand behind her back and raises the other to her lips.
"Hush, baby," she says.
"Oh God!" I yell, as I see the knife in her other hand. I try to push her off me - to take the blade from her - but I can't move my arms.
"Please," I beg. "Don't. "
She smiles as she runs the knife across her neck.
Warm liquid covers my body.
---
I wake in a pool of sweat. The nightmares are getting worse. More *intense*. They are all of Jessica - my sweet Jessica. It had been over four years since I'd found her body lying in a pool of red syrup.
To be expected, Gov had said. She'd stopped taking her pills for three weeks and had suffered an aneurysm. Ruptured blood vessels and capillaries in her brain and body.
Now its my turn - I can't afford the pills for another week. Three days without them, and I'm already a wreck. How long until my brain blows? Until someone finds me in a pool of blood.
---
"Morning Mike," Tom says to me, a wide smile on his fat face.
"Hey, Tom," I say. "How's work going?"
I wonder if his heart will stop before my brain. The pill can't protect him from heart disease.
"Jeez buddy, you don't look so good."
"I've not been sleeping well."
"Oh Mike, you've not been playing poker again, have you?"
*None of your fucking business.* "No, Tom," I say.
"Cause you know what they say - a fool and his money are soon parted."
"I better get to work."
"Sure thing. See you later, buddy."
"Great."
I sit down on my plastic chair, the pain in my back twists in like a corkscrew. Ten bright monitors stare obnoxiously at me, showing feeds of the corridors across the hospital. Doctors, patients, visitors. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm going to lose my job, if anything ever happens, because I won't be doing shit to stop it.
It's early, but I take out half my sandwich and sink my teeth into the peanut putter and bread. It sticks to the top of my mouth and I press it with my tongue, daring it to stay there.
It takes me a moment to recognise her, on monitor six. She's looking away from the camera, and her hair's a different colour. But she turns, glancing at me for a split second. I almost choke on my food, as I turn the camera to follow her down the hall.
I watch, stunned, motionless, as my dead wife takes the stairwell to the janitorial basement. Somewhere my cameras can't follow.
"Jessica," I whisper, tasting her name. "I'm coming baby."
---
The basement is cold from damp, and only flickering staccato lights allow me to navigate my way through. The basement rooms twist and turn until eventually I find another door - another set of stairs, leading me deeper down into the bowels of the Gov hospital.
This floor is more a network of passages, than a basement, and I am soon lost.
"Jessica?" I yell. "Jessica!"
"I'm here," comes a faint reply.
I follow the voice, my heart fluttering. The gloom grows like cancer around me, as I push further into the tunnels.
I step into a large space, it's too dark to see anything, but I hear steady breathing.
"Jessica?"
"Who are you," comes the voice from behind me.
A light flicks on, chasing the darkness away.
I turn to find a blonde lady pointing a gun at my chest.
"You're not Jessica," I say, my shoulders falling.
"Jessica?" she repeats, her face scrunched up in suspicion.
"My wife. She's dead. Didn't take her pills."
"Oh." Her body relaxes slightly. "Gov told you that's why she died?"
I nod.
She says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, she seems reluctant.
"The pills don't kill you. Not exactly."
"You're wrong," I snap. "That's how Jessica died, and... I've not been taking them," I confess. "Three days so far, and I already feel like crap."
"*Three days?* Shit."
"What?"
"Your wife was found in a pool of blood, right? Gov said her heart blew, or maybe her brain."
"How do you-"
"She didn't die because of the pills - well, not exactly. Gov killed her."
"*What?*"
"Three days," she repeats. "You need to come with me. Now."
| Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | **Part One (Part Two and Three in Comments)**
The pills were heavy in my hands. I moved them around my palm, watching them bump into one another. Dim light spilled into my bedroom as I took in a deep breath. I knew Mom was cooking breakfast and Dad was at work, desperately trying to make enough money for us to live... but this wasn't living. We were already dead, moving through the motions of survival to be able to afford just another miserable day... and I couldn't do it anymore.
"Steph?" Mom called through my door, "Honey did you take your medication? Food is ready!" She tapped on the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, "I just took them now. I'm getting dressed."
"Okay hun," She said, "Just hurry up or you'll be late."
I nodded. I could hear her footsteps disappear around the corner. I glanced at the rash on my arm. I wondered what it would be like to have it spread over my body. I wondered what it felt like to die... to finally let the disease kill me. Would it be pain or peace?
I shook my head, I didn't want to think about it anymore. These pills had ruled my life since I was five. They had clouded my mind and made me afraid each and every day. It was time to let go. Time to be free.
Walking over to my trash can I tipped my hand so the pills fell into the bin. I threw some tissues over them and fell onto my bed. I put my hands over my face. The Department of Disease control warned us that the symptoms would become worse within four hours of missing our dose. That the rash would slowly cover our entire body as fluids filled our lungs. We would be suffocated by our own insides... it wasn't a pleasant death they warned... but is any death not painful?
---
I sat in the car for a moment with my Mom. She glanced at me and turned off the engine.
"What is it?" she said, reaching over and pushing my hair off my brow. "Come on Steph, you can tell me."
I met her eyes. They were bright and blue. I tried to remember what it was like to see them for the first time. I wish I could remember what it was like to grow inside her and feel her heart so close to me. It made my own heart hurt knowing how much pain I was about to cause her... but it was a valiant choice wasn't it? So that she and Dad could actually have a life.
"I'm just... I'm worried about my test today." I said. "I don't think I studied enough."
"Oh," Mom said, "Well hun, I know how much you study and I can tell you'll be just fine. Now off you go. I'll pick you up at 3:00."
I reached over and hugged her like I had never hugged her before. I took in a deep breath of the smell of her hair and her perfume. She always wore the same kind... ever since I was a baby.
"Bye Mom," I said.
"See you later hun." She said.
I opened the car door and walked towards the school, trying to not let the tears hiding behind my eyes pool over the sides. I walked with my head down towards the door and, once I was sure Mom's car had gone, I turned my direction towards the forest.
I didn't stop walking until I was deep within the trees. The forest floor was riddled with old newspapers and signs that were historical relics of the time before the Monarchy. I continued with the turning paths until I found a little clearing filled with flowers and bright sunlight. I dropped my bag to the side and glanced at my watch: two hours. It had been two hours since I had missed my medication. I sat down and then laid back in the grass. I allowed the sunshine to warm my face. I tried to focus on how the grass felt against my skin. How the breeze swept my hair. I wasn't sure what I would miss most about living. My life had been filled with suffering just like everyone else. Perhaps death would finally be the escape we had all bee seeking. Maybe that's why the disease happened in the first place.
Three hours.
My heart was pounding faster than ever before. I could feel an itch against my skin, as if I had been bitten by some little bugs. My vision became sharper as my mind began to feel more alive. I felt like I couldn't breath. The air seemed thinner. Perhaps the liquid was finally filling my lungs.
Four hours.
It should be any moment now. I tried to brace myself for the pain but I wasn't quite sure how one did that. Thinking about it definitely made it worse, but you only die once so maybe I want to focus on every moment of it and try to enjoy it for the human experience that it was? It should all happen soon... it was just a matter of minutes.
Five hours.
I waited. The sun had moved in the sky. Birds were singing happily. I kept my eyes closed. The pain should kick in any time now. That's what all the reports stated when they found bodies of the people who could no longer afford the drugs.
"Exactly four hours after he had missed his daily dose the newest disease victim was found my the Department of Disease control. His body completely blue from suffocation. Let this be a reminder and a warning to all, take your medications on time or this body could be yours."
Six hours.
I sat up and looked around. I glanced at my watch. It had been six hours. SIX. Maybe my body was just better at keeping the treatment drug in my system. Or maybe the disease was weaker in me. I looked at my rash but it wasn't there anymore. I pulled up my shirt. My skin was clearer than it had ever been. There were no aches or spots. The pains that had filled my head had seemed to escape out my ears. I pushed my hair off my brow and took in a deep breath.
Something was buzzing. I reached into my backpack to get my phone. Mom's face was on the screen with her contact name under it. I answered it and held it to my ear shaking only slightly.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie," Mom's voice said, "Hun I'm at the school to pick you up. Where are you? Your Principal said you missed all your classes today."
"I'm sorry," I said, the tears actually falling from my eyes now. "I... I went for a walk in the woods today because I was so nervous for my test and I got lost and then when i finally found my way it didn't make sense to go back to the school."
Mom sighed. "It's okay hun are you at the school now, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I said. "I'll be there soon. But can we talk to the Principal about this tomorrow? I just want to go home."
"Okay, okay," she cooed. "It'll be alright. Just get to the school, we'll go home and talk about it. Call me in a few minutes so I know not to worry."
I stood up. My legs felt stronger, as if my aching muscles had healed themselves. I began to walk back to the school but I felt the sudden desire to be running. I suddenly had so much energy. I felt like I could climb a tree or jump to the stars. I laughed as I ran, doing cartwheels and jumping over junk. I felt alive. Like truly alive. But what did it all mean?
Mom was waiting for me outside the school. She had an expression on her face that was a mix between concern and worry. She opened her arms as I approached and hugged me tightly.
"I was very worried," she said, "I'm glad you are alright."
I hugged her tightly. When I pulled away I noticed something about her that I hadn't before. She seemed almost robotic. There wasn't much about her and her expressions were minor to non-existent. We walked towards the car and she began to drive again making me think about a robot. But now that I was paying attention, everyone looked like a robot, or like they were sleep walking. They performed tasks and went about their business. But they seemed... well it was hard to say exactly what they were like, but it made me uncomfortable.
"Mom," I said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes of course," Mom said, "I have never felt so good since the Drug to help the disease was invented. It almost killed me you know."
"No i don't know," I said, "What happened?"
"Well," Mom said, "One day at work everyone in the office developped this horrible rash all over their bodies. And that evening the news was talking about it and how it was a non-curable disease that had taken over the *entire* world. It was hard to believe at first, but the rash was getting worse and my body felt so weak. Once the pill was invented and distributed to everyone, we all got better! But it's a shame there isn't a real cure."
"Yeah," I said.
As I looked out the window I saw what I knew was a normal occurrence but now that I was actually paying attention felt odd. Billboards advertising the drug and the dangers of the disease were everywhere. They struck fear into even my heart. Was this all just propaganda? What the hell was going on?
As we turned a corner there was a very disturbing image of a decomposing blue body.
"Don't want this to happen to you? Remember the daily drug dose is two!"
On the streets I could see members of the "Department of Disease control" walking up and down the streets fully armed. I avoided their eyes and continued to look forwards. I was ready to die today, but instead I was reborn. And now I knew I had to do something... but what?
Thanks so much for reading! The story is continued in the comments and if you'd like to read more by me please check out my other comments in r/writingprompts! | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | "Morning, sweetheart," the woman says, pressing her lips against my forehead. The smell of vanilla from her perfume mingles with the coffee she's placed on my beside table; it creates a tempest of memories that I can't place order to.
"Jessica?" I whisper. I know something is wrong, but I don't want to know what that something is.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asks, her smoky voice sending singals down by body. She slips a bra strap free from her shoulder.
"You're dead..." I say, my voice barely audible. But the taste of her tongue in my mouth pushes the thought out of my head, replacing it with a violent, primal urge.
She pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me, straddling me. She has one hand behind her back and raises the other to her lips.
"Hush, baby," she says.
"Oh God!" I yell, as I see the knife in her other hand. I try to push her off me - to take the blade from her - but I can't move my arms.
"Please," I beg. "Don't. "
She smiles as she runs the knife across her neck.
Warm liquid covers my body.
---
I wake in a pool of sweat. The nightmares are getting worse. More *intense*. They are all of Jessica - my sweet Jessica. It had been over four years since I'd found her body lying in a pool of red syrup.
To be expected, Gov had said. She'd stopped taking her pills for three weeks and had suffered an aneurysm. Ruptured blood vessels and capillaries in her brain and body.
Now its my turn - I can't afford the pills for another week. Three days without them, and I'm already a wreck. How long until my brain blows? Until someone finds me in a pool of blood.
---
"Morning Mike," Tom says to me, a wide smile on his fat face.
"Hey, Tom," I say. "How's work going?"
I wonder if his heart will stop before my brain. The pill can't protect him from heart disease.
"Jeez buddy, you don't look so good."
"I've not been sleeping well."
"Oh Mike, you've not been playing poker again, have you?"
*None of your fucking business.* "No, Tom," I say.
"Cause you know what they say - a fool and his money are soon parted."
"I better get to work."
"Sure thing. See you later, buddy."
"Great."
I sit down on my plastic chair, the pain in my back twists in like a corkscrew. Ten bright monitors stare obnoxiously at me, showing feeds of the corridors across the hospital. Doctors, patients, visitors. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm going to lose my job, if anything ever happens, because I won't be doing shit to stop it.
It's early, but I take out half my sandwich and sink my teeth into the peanut putter and bread. It sticks to the top of my mouth and I press it with my tongue, daring it to stay there.
It takes me a moment to recognise her, on monitor six. She's looking away from the camera, and her hair's a different colour. But she turns, glancing at me for a split second. I almost choke on my food, as I turn the camera to follow her down the hall.
I watch, stunned, motionless, as my dead wife takes the stairwell to the janitorial basement. Somewhere my cameras can't follow.
"Jessica," I whisper, tasting her name. "I'm coming baby."
---
The basement is cold from damp, and only flickering staccato lights allow me to navigate my way through. The basement rooms twist and turn until eventually I find another door - another set of stairs, leading me deeper down into the bowels of the Gov hospital.
This floor is more a network of passages, than a basement, and I am soon lost.
"Jessica?" I yell. "Jessica!"
"I'm here," comes a faint reply.
I follow the voice, my heart fluttering. The gloom grows like cancer around me, as I push further into the tunnels.
I step into a large space, it's too dark to see anything, but I hear steady breathing.
"Jessica?"
"Who are you," comes the voice from behind me.
A light flicks on, chasing the darkness away.
I turn to find a blonde lady pointing a gun at my chest.
"You're not Jessica," I say, my shoulders falling.
"Jessica?" she repeats, her face scrunched up in suspicion.
"My wife. She's dead. Didn't take her pills."
"Oh." Her body relaxes slightly. "Gov told you that's why she died?"
I nod.
She says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, she seems reluctant.
"The pills don't kill you. Not exactly."
"You're wrong," I snap. "That's how Jessica died, and... I've not been taking them," I confess. "Three days so far, and I already feel like crap."
"*Three days?* Shit."
"What?"
"Your wife was found in a pool of blood, right? Gov said her heart blew, or maybe her brain."
"How do you-"
"She didn't die because of the pills - well, not exactly. Gov killed her."
"*What?*"
"Three days," she repeats. "You need to come with me. Now."
| Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | **Part One (Part Two and Three in Comments)**
The pills were heavy in my hands. I moved them around my palm, watching them bump into one another. Dim light spilled into my bedroom as I took in a deep breath. I knew Mom was cooking breakfast and Dad was at work, desperately trying to make enough money for us to live... but this wasn't living. We were already dead, moving through the motions of survival to be able to afford just another miserable day... and I couldn't do it anymore.
"Steph?" Mom called through my door, "Honey did you take your medication? Food is ready!" She tapped on the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, "I just took them now. I'm getting dressed."
"Okay hun," She said, "Just hurry up or you'll be late."
I nodded. I could hear her footsteps disappear around the corner. I glanced at the rash on my arm. I wondered what it would be like to have it spread over my body. I wondered what it felt like to die... to finally let the disease kill me. Would it be pain or peace?
I shook my head, I didn't want to think about it anymore. These pills had ruled my life since I was five. They had clouded my mind and made me afraid each and every day. It was time to let go. Time to be free.
Walking over to my trash can I tipped my hand so the pills fell into the bin. I threw some tissues over them and fell onto my bed. I put my hands over my face. The Department of Disease control warned us that the symptoms would become worse within four hours of missing our dose. That the rash would slowly cover our entire body as fluids filled our lungs. We would be suffocated by our own insides... it wasn't a pleasant death they warned... but is any death not painful?
---
I sat in the car for a moment with my Mom. She glanced at me and turned off the engine.
"What is it?" she said, reaching over and pushing my hair off my brow. "Come on Steph, you can tell me."
I met her eyes. They were bright and blue. I tried to remember what it was like to see them for the first time. I wish I could remember what it was like to grow inside her and feel her heart so close to me. It made my own heart hurt knowing how much pain I was about to cause her... but it was a valiant choice wasn't it? So that she and Dad could actually have a life.
"I'm just... I'm worried about my test today." I said. "I don't think I studied enough."
"Oh," Mom said, "Well hun, I know how much you study and I can tell you'll be just fine. Now off you go. I'll pick you up at 3:00."
I reached over and hugged her like I had never hugged her before. I took in a deep breath of the smell of her hair and her perfume. She always wore the same kind... ever since I was a baby.
"Bye Mom," I said.
"See you later hun." She said.
I opened the car door and walked towards the school, trying to not let the tears hiding behind my eyes pool over the sides. I walked with my head down towards the door and, once I was sure Mom's car had gone, I turned my direction towards the forest.
I didn't stop walking until I was deep within the trees. The forest floor was riddled with old newspapers and signs that were historical relics of the time before the Monarchy. I continued with the turning paths until I found a little clearing filled with flowers and bright sunlight. I dropped my bag to the side and glanced at my watch: two hours. It had been two hours since I had missed my medication. I sat down and then laid back in the grass. I allowed the sunshine to warm my face. I tried to focus on how the grass felt against my skin. How the breeze swept my hair. I wasn't sure what I would miss most about living. My life had been filled with suffering just like everyone else. Perhaps death would finally be the escape we had all bee seeking. Maybe that's why the disease happened in the first place.
Three hours.
My heart was pounding faster than ever before. I could feel an itch against my skin, as if I had been bitten by some little bugs. My vision became sharper as my mind began to feel more alive. I felt like I couldn't breath. The air seemed thinner. Perhaps the liquid was finally filling my lungs.
Four hours.
It should be any moment now. I tried to brace myself for the pain but I wasn't quite sure how one did that. Thinking about it definitely made it worse, but you only die once so maybe I want to focus on every moment of it and try to enjoy it for the human experience that it was? It should all happen soon... it was just a matter of minutes.
Five hours.
I waited. The sun had moved in the sky. Birds were singing happily. I kept my eyes closed. The pain should kick in any time now. That's what all the reports stated when they found bodies of the people who could no longer afford the drugs.
"Exactly four hours after he had missed his daily dose the newest disease victim was found my the Department of Disease control. His body completely blue from suffocation. Let this be a reminder and a warning to all, take your medications on time or this body could be yours."
Six hours.
I sat up and looked around. I glanced at my watch. It had been six hours. SIX. Maybe my body was just better at keeping the treatment drug in my system. Or maybe the disease was weaker in me. I looked at my rash but it wasn't there anymore. I pulled up my shirt. My skin was clearer than it had ever been. There were no aches or spots. The pains that had filled my head had seemed to escape out my ears. I pushed my hair off my brow and took in a deep breath.
Something was buzzing. I reached into my backpack to get my phone. Mom's face was on the screen with her contact name under it. I answered it and held it to my ear shaking only slightly.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie," Mom's voice said, "Hun I'm at the school to pick you up. Where are you? Your Principal said you missed all your classes today."
"I'm sorry," I said, the tears actually falling from my eyes now. "I... I went for a walk in the woods today because I was so nervous for my test and I got lost and then when i finally found my way it didn't make sense to go back to the school."
Mom sighed. "It's okay hun are you at the school now, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I said. "I'll be there soon. But can we talk to the Principal about this tomorrow? I just want to go home."
"Okay, okay," she cooed. "It'll be alright. Just get to the school, we'll go home and talk about it. Call me in a few minutes so I know not to worry."
I stood up. My legs felt stronger, as if my aching muscles had healed themselves. I began to walk back to the school but I felt the sudden desire to be running. I suddenly had so much energy. I felt like I could climb a tree or jump to the stars. I laughed as I ran, doing cartwheels and jumping over junk. I felt alive. Like truly alive. But what did it all mean?
Mom was waiting for me outside the school. She had an expression on her face that was a mix between concern and worry. She opened her arms as I approached and hugged me tightly.
"I was very worried," she said, "I'm glad you are alright."
I hugged her tightly. When I pulled away I noticed something about her that I hadn't before. She seemed almost robotic. There wasn't much about her and her expressions were minor to non-existent. We walked towards the car and she began to drive again making me think about a robot. But now that I was paying attention, everyone looked like a robot, or like they were sleep walking. They performed tasks and went about their business. But they seemed... well it was hard to say exactly what they were like, but it made me uncomfortable.
"Mom," I said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes of course," Mom said, "I have never felt so good since the Drug to help the disease was invented. It almost killed me you know."
"No i don't know," I said, "What happened?"
"Well," Mom said, "One day at work everyone in the office developped this horrible rash all over their bodies. And that evening the news was talking about it and how it was a non-curable disease that had taken over the *entire* world. It was hard to believe at first, but the rash was getting worse and my body felt so weak. Once the pill was invented and distributed to everyone, we all got better! But it's a shame there isn't a real cure."
"Yeah," I said.
As I looked out the window I saw what I knew was a normal occurrence but now that I was actually paying attention felt odd. Billboards advertising the drug and the dangers of the disease were everywhere. They struck fear into even my heart. Was this all just propaganda? What the hell was going on?
As we turned a corner there was a very disturbing image of a decomposing blue body.
"Don't want this to happen to you? Remember the daily drug dose is two!"
On the streets I could see members of the "Department of Disease control" walking up and down the streets fully armed. I avoided their eyes and continued to look forwards. I was ready to die today, but instead I was reborn. And now I knew I had to do something... but what?
Thanks so much for reading! The story is continued in the comments and if you'd like to read more by me please check out my other comments in r/writingprompts! | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | The first symptom that dissappeared was the fog that shrouded Andrew’s mind, that had kept him paralyzed in a constant state of lethargy. It was suddenly easy to put the pieces in place, with his lungs working strongly, his body free of its habitual aches. His mind was racing ahead.
“Stop taking the pills!” he told the crowd gathered around him today. He'd been reduced to preaching on street corners like the doomsday prophets that haunted the big cities, but he didn’t care. People listened to them, didn’t they? Maybe they’d listen to him too.
“It’s a big…scam,” he said, struggling to grasp the right word. ‘Scam’ was too small for the crime, but it would have to do. “The pills are keeping us sick, there is no disease! I bet they kept it quiet that they had cured it, or...or something. Maybe reproduced some symptoms in these pills so they can keep taking your money."
"Nutjob," a thin man with a ravaged, pock marked face snapped.
"No, it's true! Stop taking them, and you will - “
He didn’t see the blow aimed at his head, but dimly saw the crowd scatter as he went down. Before his eyes closed, he saw the boots. Horribly familiar, neon green boots. Disease Control.
-------------
A different, smaller crowd was pressed around him when he woke. Fear cluthed at his stomach as he recognised the green clothing, but the Disease Control officials were *smiling* at him, not dragging him off to quarantine.
“Welcome - Andrew, is it? Sorry for that little bump I had to give you, have to keep up appearances and all. The name’s Danny, by the way,” a large man with a neatly trimmed beard said, consulting a device he hadn’t seen in years: a tablet. And where did the man get time or the tools to trim his beard? Andrew rubbed the wild tangle that covered his own face self-consciously.
Danny laughed at the gesture. “You’ll soon look a bit more civilised, my friend, our little community has every luxury you could wish for. It's amazing, the stuff you can find just lying around out there, waiting to be picked up, once you have the strength to look for it."
“How?” he asked hoarsely, and for the first time noticed no-one in the room was sneezing or coughing, no-one was slumped and shivering with convulsions. He hadn’t seen anything like it before: they were all healthy.
“Why, we’re like you, of course,” a plump woman with a cheerful face blurted out, clear blue eyes widening as if shocked he hadn’t guessed. “Too poor to afford the pills, weren't you? We were all ready to die, too. And then we all figured it out, just like you.”
“Figured what out?” he mumbled, but they were bustling him from the room. He blinked in the bright sunlight, and struggled to understand what he was seeing.
Beautiful, sprawling homes built of solid timber or stone, not a single shack in sight *here*. Healthy children playing on the streets, shrieking with laughter. And a towering electric fence surrounding everything, a sure sign of a community that had been gated off. A quarantined community, he had always been told, its citizens doomed to death.
“Take a look, Andrew,” Danny said proudly. “We managed to overtake this place years ago, we never have visitors for some reason."
He laughed uproariously.
"We were all poor and desperate once, swallowing the pills," he explained, slapping Andrew on the back. "Well, none of us have had any pills in years, and we've never been better. We’ve even got a collection of Disease Control uniforms, gathered over the years, for when we venture out. No-one bothers Disease Control.”
The others chuckled as if this was a wonderful joke.
“And we got to pretend some symptoms too, if we go out, but that’s just the price of keeping the secret, I always say,” the woman said, and suddenly grasped his hand. “I’m Marnie, by the way. Glad you get to join us, Andy!”
“It’s Andrew,” he said, pulling his hand free and staring at them, his head starting to pound as he tried to make sense of things. “I’m sorry, secret? Why haven’t you told *everyone*? Why are you keeping this from people? I’ve got to get out, got to find my family. They don’t know, nobody knows…”
There was a moment of silence, Marnie and Danny sharing a quick look that he struggled to understand. Then they smiled and patted his arm reassuringly, drowning his objections as they pulled him along into a small, empty house.
"Sleep on it," Danny said. "You can decide in the morning, okay? Our community is small, and we can always use new people. We'd sure love for you to stay."
"Here's an idea: you can get *everyone* to join you if you tell people the truth," Andrew said, but they just walked away, some shaking their heads at his suggestion.
"We'll talk again in the morning, alright? Everything will make sense soon, I promise," Danny grinned at him, and gently closed the door after him, leaving Andrew alone.
He tried to summon the energy to leave the village, but a massive bed dominated the room they'd put him in, and his head was still throbbing from where Danny had hit him. He crawled in, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress, and was instantly taken back to his childhood. This was how it had been then - safety and warmth, no illness ravaging people. No illness...
When he stepped outside the next morning, it was pleasantly warm, the sky a deep shade of blue. It suited this place, with the laughing people ambling down the streets. Their eyes bright with health, not fever. He passed them, and a few called greetings - how had they learned his name so quickly? Did they think him a part of their town already? He was oddly touched.
“Slept well? Wonderful beds, right?" a bright voice asked, and he turned to find Marnie grinning at him, wearing casual clothes instead of the green uniform. "Made up your mind?"
"I've...got to go. Have to find my family, they simply have to know," he said, not without regret. It was a hard thing, turning away from this dreamlike town of health and happiness. Maybe he was dreaming, and would forget it all in the morning. He would almost prefer it.
"Meet the others, at least, before you leave,” Marnie insisted, taking his hand again and pointing to a large building in the centre of town. A wave of sound spilled out. “That's our Town Hall, so to speak. They’re all having breakfast. The least we could do is give you a solid meal before you go, bet you haven't had that in a while, eh?”
He was starving, his appetite had roared to life after he stopped taking the pills. He belatedly remembered that he hadn't eaten anything last night, either.
“Yeah, I'm pretty hungry," he muttered, as Marnie laughed and led him inside.
“That’s the spirit, you’ll fit in here in no time, don’t worry,” she said, as if that were his main concern. “Hey, Sophie! Town special for this one, he needs a good pick-me-up.”
A woman with a bob of brown hair gave him a searching look, before nodding slowly. Soon, he had a plate of bacon and eggs in hand. The Disease Control 'officials' he'd met waved from a table, beaming at him. Danny eyed him as he dug into the food, and offered another explanation.
“Don't you see we’re all rich for the first time in our lives, Andrew? Our lives are *better*,” he said gently. “We’re the only ones with health and the will to rebuild our lives. Think what would happen if the truth spread. We would lose everything, could very well lose our lives. Why, the masses will come for everything we’ve built once they regain their strength, you know they will."
"...bunch of savages," someone muttered, who was nodding along knowingly to Danny's words.
They watched him intently as he ate, as if waiting for his decision.
“Look, this place is amazing,” he said, finishing the food and still longing for more. Danny's wide grin faded as he continued.
“But I can't believe you've kept this to yourselves. It makes no sense, walling yourself from the world. Don’t you know what’s out there, how wrong everything has gone? How can you just sit here and ignore that?”
“Oh, don't look at the world, why would you want to do that? Depressing place. Just look at this amazing town, instead. Everything's right as rain in here, Andy,” Marnie said, sharing another unfathomable look with Danny before handing him a drink. “Juice?”
He drank it in one long gulp, desperately thirsty after the stack of bacon he'd gobbled up.
“No. It’s not right,” he said. “It’s - "
But he never got the words out. He was choking, and they were simply staring at him, Danny continuing to eat his own meal as Andrew began shaking with convulsions.
“Help me!” he gasped. “Can't…breathe...”
“Yes, the original illness does that,” Danny said, studying Andrew with interest as he trembled violently. “Available in drug form, can you believe it? One of their many little experiments. We found samples of it all, over the years, they have everything in the Disease Control centres. Uniforms aren’t the only thing we’ve stockpiled. It’s fairly unpleasent, but quick, if that makes you feel any better. Horrible, of course, but it acts fast. Can be cured quite easily too, as it turns out. I wish you’d have thought it over. *Outsiders*. So many of you never give this place a chance, and for what? Caught up in morality from a bygone age. Let's-just-tell-everyone, blah, blah, blah...”
“Many of us?” Andrew whispered, before the world went blessedly dark.
---------
**Story edited and lengthened to improve pacing.**
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | "Morning, sweetheart," the woman says, pressing her lips against my forehead. The smell of vanilla from her perfume mingles with the coffee she's placed on my beside table; it creates a tempest of memories that I can't place order to.
"Jessica?" I whisper. I know something is wrong, but I don't want to know what that something is.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asks, her smoky voice sending singals down by body. She slips a bra strap free from her shoulder.
"You're dead..." I say, my voice barely audible. But the taste of her tongue in my mouth pushes the thought out of my head, replacing it with a violent, primal urge.
She pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me, straddling me. She has one hand behind her back and raises the other to her lips.
"Hush, baby," she says.
"Oh God!" I yell, as I see the knife in her other hand. I try to push her off me - to take the blade from her - but I can't move my arms.
"Please," I beg. "Don't. "
She smiles as she runs the knife across her neck.
Warm liquid covers my body.
---
I wake in a pool of sweat. The nightmares are getting worse. More *intense*. They are all of Jessica - my sweet Jessica. It had been over four years since I'd found her body lying in a pool of red syrup.
To be expected, Gov had said. She'd stopped taking her pills for three weeks and had suffered an aneurysm. Ruptured blood vessels and capillaries in her brain and body.
Now its my turn - I can't afford the pills for another week. Three days without them, and I'm already a wreck. How long until my brain blows? Until someone finds me in a pool of blood.
---
"Morning Mike," Tom says to me, a wide smile on his fat face.
"Hey, Tom," I say. "How's work going?"
I wonder if his heart will stop before my brain. The pill can't protect him from heart disease.
"Jeez buddy, you don't look so good."
"I've not been sleeping well."
"Oh Mike, you've not been playing poker again, have you?"
*None of your fucking business.* "No, Tom," I say.
"Cause you know what they say - a fool and his money are soon parted."
"I better get to work."
"Sure thing. See you later, buddy."
"Great."
I sit down on my plastic chair, the pain in my back twists in like a corkscrew. Ten bright monitors stare obnoxiously at me, showing feeds of the corridors across the hospital. Doctors, patients, visitors. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm going to lose my job, if anything ever happens, because I won't be doing shit to stop it.
It's early, but I take out half my sandwich and sink my teeth into the peanut putter and bread. It sticks to the top of my mouth and I press it with my tongue, daring it to stay there.
It takes me a moment to recognise her, on monitor six. She's looking away from the camera, and her hair's a different colour. But she turns, glancing at me for a split second. I almost choke on my food, as I turn the camera to follow her down the hall.
I watch, stunned, motionless, as my dead wife takes the stairwell to the janitorial basement. Somewhere my cameras can't follow.
"Jessica," I whisper, tasting her name. "I'm coming baby."
---
The basement is cold from damp, and only flickering staccato lights allow me to navigate my way through. The basement rooms twist and turn until eventually I find another door - another set of stairs, leading me deeper down into the bowels of the Gov hospital.
This floor is more a network of passages, than a basement, and I am soon lost.
"Jessica?" I yell. "Jessica!"
"I'm here," comes a faint reply.
I follow the voice, my heart fluttering. The gloom grows like cancer around me, as I push further into the tunnels.
I step into a large space, it's too dark to see anything, but I hear steady breathing.
"Jessica?"
"Who are you," comes the voice from behind me.
A light flicks on, chasing the darkness away.
I turn to find a blonde lady pointing a gun at my chest.
"You're not Jessica," I say, my shoulders falling.
"Jessica?" she repeats, her face scrunched up in suspicion.
"My wife. She's dead. Didn't take her pills."
"Oh." Her body relaxes slightly. "Gov told you that's why she died?"
I nod.
She says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, she seems reluctant.
"The pills don't kill you. Not exactly."
"You're wrong," I snap. "That's how Jessica died, and... I've not been taking them," I confess. "Three days so far, and I already feel like crap."
"*Three days?* Shit."
"What?"
"Your wife was found in a pool of blood, right? Gov said her heart blew, or maybe her brain."
"How do you-"
"She didn't die because of the pills - well, not exactly. Gov killed her."
"*What?*"
"Three days," she repeats. "You need to come with me. Now."
|
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Lucy lay shivering in bed, her hands clutching the sweat-soaked duvet tightly around her, the bed heater back on. It had been lke this for the past three days, and she wished she was already dead. The boiling heat alternated with freezing cold for hours at a time, and every muscle of her body seemed to protest as she slowly forced herself to sit up, to push the duvet away long enough to pull the laptop closer to her.
She typed her bank account password in with quivering fingers, and cringed. The money was still gone, and without that, she couldn't afford the bus fare to the clinic across town, let alone the drug.
Her neck ached with the effort to hold her neck up, and she rested it gently against the back of the bed. She had maybe another 12 hours before she died, and her hopes that George was coming back were fading fast. Damn, but she had been such a fool. They'd been dating for 6 months now, and he'd said he needed her card to buy something online, would she mind.
She'd hesitated. Looking back, she winced. He'd looked so hurt - don't you trust me? - and she'd foolishly given in.
The next day he'd text her to cancel their planned dinner, as he had to go on a work trip. Two days later, her money was gone, and he was safe. The police couldn't help, the loans company wouldn't, and she was ... well, dead. Even the charities she'd reached out to had turned her away, because she had been wealthy enough to afford medicine until only a few days before.
Their work, they had stressed, was for people who were employed in lower wage jobs, and couln't afford both drugs and food. Those with children. Couldn't she ask her parents for money?
Of course, Lucy could, theoretically. But she wouldn't. Maybe she even couldn't.
Finally, as a last resort, Lucy had asked her boss for her wages in advance to cover her. Just until the end of the month, she'd stressed. She'd be able to save and skrimp enough to cover the cost of the drug on that, surely.
He'd told her to go home and look after herself, that he'd see what he could do... but given that her bank account was still sat at a resolute, red zero. Well.
Perhaps it was for the best. She forced herself out of bed and across to the kitchen sink. It was the first time since she'd moved in that she was glad all she could afford was a bedsit. Not bothering to grab a glass, she leaned slowly forward until her tongue could touch the stream of water, tilted her head to one side, and gulped thirstly. Then, groaning, she shuffled back to bed, threw her duvet onto the floor, and spread out, her skin on fire.
Lucy slept.
She was forced awake by a dry, prickly mouth, and sat up slowly. The fever seemed to have worked its way out of her system, and although still a little sore, she could stand without an internal dialogue. She grinned.
But, wait.
She should be dead. "Is this... heaven?" She asked aloud, looking around her deserted room. Maybe someone had come in, given her something - but the door was still deadbolted, the window latched.
Her hands still shook as she poured a glass of water. Maybe, she thought, this was the second wind, the nice bit before death. But she felt fine. Better than fine. She almost wanted to dance with how fine she felt.
"I'm alive." She told the wall, confidently. Then she turned to the stuffed cat an old friend had bought her, and told it too. "I'm alive!"
She span around in a circle, which was somewhat ill-advised as she immediately felt dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything more nutrious than the few slices of dry toast she had nibbled in her bed on the few occasions she had made it to the kitchen, before it had gone blue.
"Ok," she said, "I need to eat."
She had a yoghurt in the fridge, which she consumed while rooting through her freezer drawer for a ready meal. Nothing. Dammit. And she still had no money for shopping.
Three bendy carrots, a slightly mushy bag of spinach, and three sausages would have to do then, and she quickly set to work.
How was she not dead?
Rach! She had to call Rach!
She whirled around, the spitting sausages forgotten momentarily, and scrambled among her bedding for her phone. Which was dead.
She swore, then plugged it in next to the hob, balancing it on the top of the microwave. Finally, the battery symbol came on, and she mashed the power button with her thumb, the other hand futily jostling the sausages.
"Lucy?" A dubious voice picked up. "Why are you calling me?"
"Rach, listen. I know it's been a while. I know I said some stupid, horrible things. But you need to know something."
"Ok."
"Take a seat. Somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. Please, this is important."
"Give me a minute."
Lucy grabbed at the sausages with one hand and dumped them onto a plate, too hungry to care if they were done. Then, sucking her burnt fingers, she tapped the speakerphone button and pulled her chair closer to the phone.
"What is it, Luce?"
"You were right."
"What?"
"You were right. I... look, it's a long story, but I didn't have money for tablets this month."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's the point. I didn't take them, but I'm also still alive."
There was a staticy silence on the phone for a few heartbeats. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Lucy took a bite of sausage, and spoke around it. "Of course I'm sure."
"We can't talk on the phone. They might be listening."
Lucy bit down the urge to tell her she was being paranoid - after all, that had been part of their fight in the first place - and, she realised, if Rachel had been right about this...
"Just answer a few questions, OK?" Lucy hummed her agreement. "OK. When was your last dose?" "4 days ago." "What were your symptoms?" "Mostly fever." "Where are you now?" "Town centre, Burkley Street." "I'm on my way. Stay there, don't open the door to anyone. Do you understand?" "Yes."
Rachel hung up. Lucy continued eating her sausages.
5 minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was only instinct that kept her from calling out. Instead, she slowly slid along the floor, her heart thundering in her chest. Another knock, loud and authoritative. "Miss Naze. I know you're in there. Please answer the door."
She held her breath. "Miss Naze, please. We don't want to hurt you."
Trying desperately to be as quiet as possible, she breathed in, and then out. How did they know she was there.
A new voice, female, spoke. "We're working with Rachel Thearm. She asked us to pick you up, as our team was closer."
Now Lucy knew that these people weren't going to help her. Rach would have told her if she was delegating the task. But while they were here, would Rach be able to come help her.
There were another few minutes of tense silence, and then Lucy heard footsteps heading from her door down the corridor. Were they trying to trick her? Convinced she'd died?
A thud, on the wall. She squealed in shock, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Another thud. My god, were they breaking down the wall?
Without thinking about it, she grabbed a knife from the washing up pile and clenched it in a white fist. She would not die, not after surviving that fever. She would fight.
There was a silence, stretched across several seconds, and then somehow the bolt on the door began to draw back. She lunged across the room, and pushed it shut again, fighting against some other force.
"Hey." A whisper came. "It's ok, just me. Open up."
Somehow, Lucy couldn't trust the voice, even if it sounded a little like Rachel with her posh, English accent. "Seriously, Luce, open up. I have approximately 5 minutes to get you out of here before they wake up."
Tentatively, Lucy pressed her lips up against the crack of the door. "What did you give me, the night before we went to prom?"
"A stuffed lion. Babe, come on, we need to go."
Scared, still clutching the knife, Lucy baked away from the bolt. It moved again. Then there was Rachel's grinning face, pushing it open, grabbing Lucy and pulling her through. Two crumpled SWAT officers were by the door, heads resting against one another.
Rachel was dressed in black, riot police like clothes, a small handgun clenched in one hand. Silently, she pulled Lucy down the hall, into a stairwell, and down they went. "Luce babe, I'm so glad you called."
Lucy, concious of her knife - and her dirty pyjamas - said nothing. She didn't know what to do, whether to trust Rachel. She had no other choice.
"You're a medical marvel, Luce. I have some doctors I want you to meet." She paused by the door to the basement, looked Lucy up and down, and pulled her into a quick hug. "Come on, we've got work to do." | **Part One (Part Two and Three in Comments)**
The pills were heavy in my hands. I moved them around my palm, watching them bump into one another. Dim light spilled into my bedroom as I took in a deep breath. I knew Mom was cooking breakfast and Dad was at work, desperately trying to make enough money for us to live... but this wasn't living. We were already dead, moving through the motions of survival to be able to afford just another miserable day... and I couldn't do it anymore.
"Steph?" Mom called through my door, "Honey did you take your medication? Food is ready!" She tapped on the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, "I just took them now. I'm getting dressed."
"Okay hun," She said, "Just hurry up or you'll be late."
I nodded. I could hear her footsteps disappear around the corner. I glanced at the rash on my arm. I wondered what it would be like to have it spread over my body. I wondered what it felt like to die... to finally let the disease kill me. Would it be pain or peace?
I shook my head, I didn't want to think about it anymore. These pills had ruled my life since I was five. They had clouded my mind and made me afraid each and every day. It was time to let go. Time to be free.
Walking over to my trash can I tipped my hand so the pills fell into the bin. I threw some tissues over them and fell onto my bed. I put my hands over my face. The Department of Disease control warned us that the symptoms would become worse within four hours of missing our dose. That the rash would slowly cover our entire body as fluids filled our lungs. We would be suffocated by our own insides... it wasn't a pleasant death they warned... but is any death not painful?
---
I sat in the car for a moment with my Mom. She glanced at me and turned off the engine.
"What is it?" she said, reaching over and pushing my hair off my brow. "Come on Steph, you can tell me."
I met her eyes. They were bright and blue. I tried to remember what it was like to see them for the first time. I wish I could remember what it was like to grow inside her and feel her heart so close to me. It made my own heart hurt knowing how much pain I was about to cause her... but it was a valiant choice wasn't it? So that she and Dad could actually have a life.
"I'm just... I'm worried about my test today." I said. "I don't think I studied enough."
"Oh," Mom said, "Well hun, I know how much you study and I can tell you'll be just fine. Now off you go. I'll pick you up at 3:00."
I reached over and hugged her like I had never hugged her before. I took in a deep breath of the smell of her hair and her perfume. She always wore the same kind... ever since I was a baby.
"Bye Mom," I said.
"See you later hun." She said.
I opened the car door and walked towards the school, trying to not let the tears hiding behind my eyes pool over the sides. I walked with my head down towards the door and, once I was sure Mom's car had gone, I turned my direction towards the forest.
I didn't stop walking until I was deep within the trees. The forest floor was riddled with old newspapers and signs that were historical relics of the time before the Monarchy. I continued with the turning paths until I found a little clearing filled with flowers and bright sunlight. I dropped my bag to the side and glanced at my watch: two hours. It had been two hours since I had missed my medication. I sat down and then laid back in the grass. I allowed the sunshine to warm my face. I tried to focus on how the grass felt against my skin. How the breeze swept my hair. I wasn't sure what I would miss most about living. My life had been filled with suffering just like everyone else. Perhaps death would finally be the escape we had all bee seeking. Maybe that's why the disease happened in the first place.
Three hours.
My heart was pounding faster than ever before. I could feel an itch against my skin, as if I had been bitten by some little bugs. My vision became sharper as my mind began to feel more alive. I felt like I couldn't breath. The air seemed thinner. Perhaps the liquid was finally filling my lungs.
Four hours.
It should be any moment now. I tried to brace myself for the pain but I wasn't quite sure how one did that. Thinking about it definitely made it worse, but you only die once so maybe I want to focus on every moment of it and try to enjoy it for the human experience that it was? It should all happen soon... it was just a matter of minutes.
Five hours.
I waited. The sun had moved in the sky. Birds were singing happily. I kept my eyes closed. The pain should kick in any time now. That's what all the reports stated when they found bodies of the people who could no longer afford the drugs.
"Exactly four hours after he had missed his daily dose the newest disease victim was found my the Department of Disease control. His body completely blue from suffocation. Let this be a reminder and a warning to all, take your medications on time or this body could be yours."
Six hours.
I sat up and looked around. I glanced at my watch. It had been six hours. SIX. Maybe my body was just better at keeping the treatment drug in my system. Or maybe the disease was weaker in me. I looked at my rash but it wasn't there anymore. I pulled up my shirt. My skin was clearer than it had ever been. There were no aches or spots. The pains that had filled my head had seemed to escape out my ears. I pushed my hair off my brow and took in a deep breath.
Something was buzzing. I reached into my backpack to get my phone. Mom's face was on the screen with her contact name under it. I answered it and held it to my ear shaking only slightly.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie," Mom's voice said, "Hun I'm at the school to pick you up. Where are you? Your Principal said you missed all your classes today."
"I'm sorry," I said, the tears actually falling from my eyes now. "I... I went for a walk in the woods today because I was so nervous for my test and I got lost and then when i finally found my way it didn't make sense to go back to the school."
Mom sighed. "It's okay hun are you at the school now, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I said. "I'll be there soon. But can we talk to the Principal about this tomorrow? I just want to go home."
"Okay, okay," she cooed. "It'll be alright. Just get to the school, we'll go home and talk about it. Call me in a few minutes so I know not to worry."
I stood up. My legs felt stronger, as if my aching muscles had healed themselves. I began to walk back to the school but I felt the sudden desire to be running. I suddenly had so much energy. I felt like I could climb a tree or jump to the stars. I laughed as I ran, doing cartwheels and jumping over junk. I felt alive. Like truly alive. But what did it all mean?
Mom was waiting for me outside the school. She had an expression on her face that was a mix between concern and worry. She opened her arms as I approached and hugged me tightly.
"I was very worried," she said, "I'm glad you are alright."
I hugged her tightly. When I pulled away I noticed something about her that I hadn't before. She seemed almost robotic. There wasn't much about her and her expressions were minor to non-existent. We walked towards the car and she began to drive again making me think about a robot. But now that I was paying attention, everyone looked like a robot, or like they were sleep walking. They performed tasks and went about their business. But they seemed... well it was hard to say exactly what they were like, but it made me uncomfortable.
"Mom," I said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes of course," Mom said, "I have never felt so good since the Drug to help the disease was invented. It almost killed me you know."
"No i don't know," I said, "What happened?"
"Well," Mom said, "One day at work everyone in the office developped this horrible rash all over their bodies. And that evening the news was talking about it and how it was a non-curable disease that had taken over the *entire* world. It was hard to believe at first, but the rash was getting worse and my body felt so weak. Once the pill was invented and distributed to everyone, we all got better! But it's a shame there isn't a real cure."
"Yeah," I said.
As I looked out the window I saw what I knew was a normal occurrence but now that I was actually paying attention felt odd. Billboards advertising the drug and the dangers of the disease were everywhere. They struck fear into even my heart. Was this all just propaganda? What the hell was going on?
As we turned a corner there was a very disturbing image of a decomposing blue body.
"Don't want this to happen to you? Remember the daily drug dose is two!"
On the streets I could see members of the "Department of Disease control" walking up and down the streets fully armed. I avoided their eyes and continued to look forwards. I was ready to die today, but instead I was reborn. And now I knew I had to do something... but what?
Thanks so much for reading! The story is continued in the comments and if you'd like to read more by me please check out my other comments in r/writingprompts! |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | The first symptom that dissappeared was the fog that shrouded Andrew’s mind, that had kept him paralyzed in a constant state of lethargy. It was suddenly easy to put the pieces in place, with his lungs working strongly, his body free of its habitual aches. His mind was racing ahead.
“Stop taking the pills!” he told the crowd gathered around him today. He'd been reduced to preaching on street corners like the doomsday prophets that haunted the big cities, but he didn’t care. People listened to them, didn’t they? Maybe they’d listen to him too.
“It’s a big…scam,” he said, struggling to grasp the right word. ‘Scam’ was too small for the crime, but it would have to do. “The pills are keeping us sick, there is no disease! I bet they kept it quiet that they had cured it, or...or something. Maybe reproduced some symptoms in these pills so they can keep taking your money."
"Nutjob," a thin man with a ravaged, pock marked face snapped.
"No, it's true! Stop taking them, and you will - “
He didn’t see the blow aimed at his head, but dimly saw the crowd scatter as he went down. Before his eyes closed, he saw the boots. Horribly familiar, neon green boots. Disease Control.
-------------
A different, smaller crowd was pressed around him when he woke. Fear cluthed at his stomach as he recognised the green clothing, but the Disease Control officials were *smiling* at him, not dragging him off to quarantine.
“Welcome - Andrew, is it? Sorry for that little bump I had to give you, have to keep up appearances and all. The name’s Danny, by the way,” a large man with a neatly trimmed beard said, consulting a device he hadn’t seen in years: a tablet. And where did the man get time or the tools to trim his beard? Andrew rubbed the wild tangle that covered his own face self-consciously.
Danny laughed at the gesture. “You’ll soon look a bit more civilised, my friend, our little community has every luxury you could wish for. It's amazing, the stuff you can find just lying around out there, waiting to be picked up, once you have the strength to look for it."
“How?” he asked hoarsely, and for the first time noticed no-one in the room was sneezing or coughing, no-one was slumped and shivering with convulsions. He hadn’t seen anything like it before: they were all healthy.
“Why, we’re like you, of course,” a plump woman with a cheerful face blurted out, clear blue eyes widening as if shocked he hadn’t guessed. “Too poor to afford the pills, weren't you? We were all ready to die, too. And then we all figured it out, just like you.”
“Figured what out?” he mumbled, but they were bustling him from the room. He blinked in the bright sunlight, and struggled to understand what he was seeing.
Beautiful, sprawling homes built of solid timber or stone, not a single shack in sight *here*. Healthy children playing on the streets, shrieking with laughter. And a towering electric fence surrounding everything, a sure sign of a community that had been gated off. A quarantined community, he had always been told, its citizens doomed to death.
“Take a look, Andrew,” Danny said proudly. “We managed to overtake this place years ago, we never have visitors for some reason."
He laughed uproariously.
"We were all poor and desperate once, swallowing the pills," he explained, slapping Andrew on the back. "Well, none of us have had any pills in years, and we've never been better. We’ve even got a collection of Disease Control uniforms, gathered over the years, for when we venture out. No-one bothers Disease Control.”
The others chuckled as if this was a wonderful joke.
“And we got to pretend some symptoms too, if we go out, but that’s just the price of keeping the secret, I always say,” the woman said, and suddenly grasped his hand. “I’m Marnie, by the way. Glad you get to join us, Andy!”
“It’s Andrew,” he said, pulling his hand free and staring at them, his head starting to pound as he tried to make sense of things. “I’m sorry, secret? Why haven’t you told *everyone*? Why are you keeping this from people? I’ve got to get out, got to find my family. They don’t know, nobody knows…”
There was a moment of silence, Marnie and Danny sharing a quick look that he struggled to understand. Then they smiled and patted his arm reassuringly, drowning his objections as they pulled him along into a small, empty house.
"Sleep on it," Danny said. "You can decide in the morning, okay? Our community is small, and we can always use new people. We'd sure love for you to stay."
"Here's an idea: you can get *everyone* to join you if you tell people the truth," Andrew said, but they just walked away, some shaking their heads at his suggestion.
"We'll talk again in the morning, alright? Everything will make sense soon, I promise," Danny grinned at him, and gently closed the door after him, leaving Andrew alone.
He tried to summon the energy to leave the village, but a massive bed dominated the room they'd put him in, and his head was still throbbing from where Danny had hit him. He crawled in, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress, and was instantly taken back to his childhood. This was how it had been then - safety and warmth, no illness ravaging people. No illness...
When he stepped outside the next morning, it was pleasantly warm, the sky a deep shade of blue. It suited this place, with the laughing people ambling down the streets. Their eyes bright with health, not fever. He passed them, and a few called greetings - how had they learned his name so quickly? Did they think him a part of their town already? He was oddly touched.
“Slept well? Wonderful beds, right?" a bright voice asked, and he turned to find Marnie grinning at him, wearing casual clothes instead of the green uniform. "Made up your mind?"
"I've...got to go. Have to find my family, they simply have to know," he said, not without regret. It was a hard thing, turning away from this dreamlike town of health and happiness. Maybe he was dreaming, and would forget it all in the morning. He would almost prefer it.
"Meet the others, at least, before you leave,” Marnie insisted, taking his hand again and pointing to a large building in the centre of town. A wave of sound spilled out. “That's our Town Hall, so to speak. They’re all having breakfast. The least we could do is give you a solid meal before you go, bet you haven't had that in a while, eh?”
He was starving, his appetite had roared to life after he stopped taking the pills. He belatedly remembered that he hadn't eaten anything last night, either.
“Yeah, I'm pretty hungry," he muttered, as Marnie laughed and led him inside.
“That’s the spirit, you’ll fit in here in no time, don’t worry,” she said, as if that were his main concern. “Hey, Sophie! Town special for this one, he needs a good pick-me-up.”
A woman with a bob of brown hair gave him a searching look, before nodding slowly. Soon, he had a plate of bacon and eggs in hand. The Disease Control 'officials' he'd met waved from a table, beaming at him. Danny eyed him as he dug into the food, and offered another explanation.
“Don't you see we’re all rich for the first time in our lives, Andrew? Our lives are *better*,” he said gently. “We’re the only ones with health and the will to rebuild our lives. Think what would happen if the truth spread. We would lose everything, could very well lose our lives. Why, the masses will come for everything we’ve built once they regain their strength, you know they will."
"...bunch of savages," someone muttered, who was nodding along knowingly to Danny's words.
They watched him intently as he ate, as if waiting for his decision.
“Look, this place is amazing,” he said, finishing the food and still longing for more. Danny's wide grin faded as he continued.
“But I can't believe you've kept this to yourselves. It makes no sense, walling yourself from the world. Don’t you know what’s out there, how wrong everything has gone? How can you just sit here and ignore that?”
“Oh, don't look at the world, why would you want to do that? Depressing place. Just look at this amazing town, instead. Everything's right as rain in here, Andy,” Marnie said, sharing another unfathomable look with Danny before handing him a drink. “Juice?”
He drank it in one long gulp, desperately thirsty after the stack of bacon he'd gobbled up.
“No. It’s not right,” he said. “It’s - "
But he never got the words out. He was choking, and they were simply staring at him, Danny continuing to eat his own meal as Andrew began shaking with convulsions.
“Help me!” he gasped. “Can't…breathe...”
“Yes, the original illness does that,” Danny said, studying Andrew with interest as he trembled violently. “Available in drug form, can you believe it? One of their many little experiments. We found samples of it all, over the years, they have everything in the Disease Control centres. Uniforms aren’t the only thing we’ve stockpiled. It’s fairly unpleasent, but quick, if that makes you feel any better. Horrible, of course, but it acts fast. Can be cured quite easily too, as it turns out. I wish you’d have thought it over. *Outsiders*. So many of you never give this place a chance, and for what? Caught up in morality from a bygone age. Let's-just-tell-everyone, blah, blah, blah...”
“Many of us?” Andrew whispered, before the world went blessedly dark.
---------
**Story edited and lengthened to improve pacing.**
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. |
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | [WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead. | Twelve hours left. That's all I had as I stared blankly at the wall of my bedroom. It had been decades since someone had come to the virus, and just my luck the next one would be me. I laid back on my bed, contemplating all of the things I hadn't done; marriage, kids, going to an old folk home. Granted some things I was happy I would be missing out on.
Having been at the acceptance stage for a while now I didn't really mind too much that I was reaching the end. I had a fairly good run for a guy in his mid-twenties. As I started to recall the funnier adventures from my youth, a knock came at the door. I didn't know who it could be. I wasn't dating anyone, not for lack of trying, and my parents had passed away years ago. So who could be visiting me?
I got up and answered the door to find two men in black suits. "Mr. Greene?" one of them asked as he flashed a badge. He was from the CDC, which had been given policing rights not too long after the first outbreak. "Can...I help you, gentlemen?" I asked as I moved to let them into my apartment. They walked in without a second thought.
"Yes, sir you can. We understand that you haven't made your payment for your daily treatment. We would like to know why."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I can't afford it. I lost my job last month. The only reason I still have a roof over my head is that I paid this months rent in advance. I guess I'm lucky I won't die in the street." I let out a nervous laugh, which they did not return with so much as a grin.
"I see," the second man said, "May we sit down?" I motioned for them to sit on the couch. I sat in my old, beat arm chair. "Mr. Greene, how have you been feeling?"
I sat back. I hadn't really thought about it. I had been worrying so much about the end 'being nigh' that I hadn't really thought about my health, as strange as the thought was. In all honesty, I felt fine. A little tired from lack of sleep the last few days, but otherwise completely normal.
"I...feel alright I guess. No different than normal." The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Mr. Greene-" the first man spoke up again, "what do you know about the C39 virus?"
"Only what they show on the news-" I began, "The symptoms change from person to person. The only constant is skin sores right before death."
"There is a reason for that," the second man said, "Most of the final symptoms are psychosomatic, people worry that their end is near and so they invent symptoms in their mind. Almost all symptoms are lies made by our minds."
"So if those are fake... What are the real symptoms?"
"There are no real symptoms." The first man said flatly as if it wasn't the biggest news of the millennium.
"But, how can that be? How can something be deadly without causing any havoc on the internal system?"
"Because, Mr. Greene, there is no virus."
I sat there for a moment in total shock. No virus? That isn't possible. So many people had died, how could there be no cause of their deaths?
"How, what, wait a minute. What do you mean there is no virus?" I said, my anger slipping through my voice just a bit.
"Mr. Greene, before this virus the world was in economic collapse. Researchers at the time estimated that we had two decades at most before another world war started, and humanity would not recover."
The second man nodded his head. "So, the leaders of the different superpowers got together and formed a plan to unite all of humanity. Aliens would never work, it would take much more money to fake an alien invasion than was feasible at the time. So they decided on a virus. Something that could be easily faked, just a few million people dead and humanity would have an enemy to unite against."
"What you're saying is... The millions of people who died. The chaos and havoc in the wake of the outbreak. It was all-"
"A hoax, yes. There was never a virus. Just leaders pulling strings to see that everything went smoothly. A controlled demolition of society."
I sat back in my chair, head reeling from the information. My whole life, so many lives, were lies. People lived in fear of a monster that didn't exist. We were being played.
"Then that means the medication that we all take. That the government says keeps the virus at bay-"
"It's a sugar pill, no different from candy. We put a coat over it so that people can't taste the sweetness when they swallow it. Any adverse side effects are all placebo effects"
That made sense, why formulate a pill meant to fight nothing. It would save money in the long run. But there was one last piece, one thing that didn't make sense. And as soon as the question came to me, I saw on their faces that they knew what I had just thought and that they had been waiting for it.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Mr. Greene, people are starting to suspect that the virus isn't real. That is something the CDC can not let happen. The ruin and chaos that would come following that discovery would see to the extinction of the human species. We needed to refresh the peoples' mind's that it is still there, working in the shadows. But for that to happen, someone has to die."
There it was, the final piece. The last bit of information to put the picture into focus. The second man continued on.
"We needed someone unassuming, that most people wouldn't notice until things blew up. So we pulled strings and had you fired from your work. It was pretty easy to do, you didn't have a great work record. Then it was a matter of waiting till your funds ran dry. Which, again, didn't take long."
"So then, the reasons everyone died with different symptoms. It's because no one remembers what to expect."
"Correct, the only thing they know for sure is that the sores before the end. Some even develop them early from fear."
I whipped my cheek on my sleeve and realized I had been crying. They intended to kill me. I was going to die so that people wouldn't freak out. That they would believe in a monster under their bed that never was.
"We know what you're thinking Mr. Greene. It's standard, and understandable, that you would want to run. However, this entire building is full of CDC agents. If you try and run, we will simply knock you out and kill you anyway. If you just cooperate, things will go nice and smooth. You won't feel a thing."
"So what happens now?" I asked quietly, admitting my own defeat but unwilling to say it out loud. The first man produced a vial from his coat and sat it on the table in front of us.
"This is a very powerful sedative. You take it and go back to your room to sleep. Afterward, we will clear out this building and pump chlorine gas in. You will die soon after that."
It made sense now, the reason why there were always sores.
"Seems kind of uneventful," I said with a laugh
"Yes, Mr. Greene. Just like a virus. Just like the public expect."
I nodded and grabbed the vial. "Will you guys stay, until I fall asleep?"
The stood up and nodded. "That's why we are here. to make sure you are fully out before-" the man stopped, and for the first time seemed a bit choked up. "Before it's done." I nodded and went back into my bedroom, popped the small pill into my mouth and laid down to sleep. | Find below the last words of Brian Grayson. Who was the richest window cleaner ever grace the halls of PharmaCorp.
Every day I stared at the numbers on the screen which detailed how little money, and therefore time I had left.
Like most people since The Disease (or TD as it is now commonly called) I worked for PharmaCorp. Pharmaceutical companies had been powerful even before TD hit, but now that life literally dependent on their products they had become central pillars of our new modern society.
Students go to school so they could learn skills that would be useful to PharmaCorp. Even now before having children couples have to petition PharamaCorp HR to do a financial check on whether or not they can afford the medication that would see their child through to adulthood. The cycle starts again when that child can finally start working for PharmaCorp themselves to earn their own medication money. My parents managed to save enough money for me, but I’ve never been able earn enough to raise a family of my own.
In our modern world the only people who get to experience freedom are those related to the PharmaCorp Board of Directors. Who else could afford to? Having a monopoly on the drug which keeps humanity alive means that you can charge whatever you wish for it this means that most of your income is now being spent on simply keeping you alive.
But I finally discovered a way to break the system. What was the point of living a life where I was only making just enough to exist? I was going to sell my family house and live like an executive for as long as I could. I knew it was a death sentence, but for the first time in my life, I finally felt free.
I quit my job and purchased a small boat, claiming to be the cousin of PharmaCorp’s CFO meant that no one was surprised that I had enough money for the small vessel. I stocked it with enough rich food, alcohol to last me… well till the end of my days.
TD was meant to kill me 3 days ago now. I’ve have no idea how to drive a boat back to land in order to get more supplies and I’m down to half a bottle of champagne and three cheese crackers.
To whoever finds this note, I did NOT die of TD. TD is a lie. PharmaCorp is a Lie. Live your life for you! I might have only had a week but I’ve lived more in that last 7 days than in the previous 28.
Brian Grayson
|
[WP] You live in a world where you have to buy sleep | Busy Bees Co. has a better policy than most of its competitors: half off every half hour of sleep if you live on company grounds and work any schedule they give you within 24 hours' notice.
I am Happy Worker Bee #6262, who is so tired her eyes might melt out of her skull. I don't know how many hours straight I have worked. It's either forty or fifty but the numbers on my built-in wrist comm are too blurry to read.
I tell myself this is okay. One day I will join a company like LifeCo. or a tech dinosaur like Microsoft or Google. Someplace that allots its workers at least 40 hours of paid sleep a week, and remembers that just because science has turned our brains into machines does not mean that our bodies are equally indefatigable.
True, after thirty or forty waking hours my brain is still crisp, sharp, and errorless, but my body is trudging, limbs heavy, eyelids so swollen I can barely see. If I were rich I could buy a perfect plastic face that looks like me if I weren't such an ugly fucking flesh bag. But then if I had money I wouldn't have to ration my sleep tokens like I live in fucking China or something.
When I start to feel real bitchy about my lot in life, I remember to be grateful that I am a bottom-tier citizen in a first world society. My employer's sleep benefits package may suck sweaty donkey balls but at least I don't have to choose between sleeping and eating.
Right now is different. I'm saving up. I'm going to buy my way into the Silver City, and I'm going to get an interview with any company that will take me, and I'm getting the hell out of this Bronze City garbage life. My cardboard dorm room will be an apartment overlooking a city. I'll get a fish or maybe a cat. I will sleep like it costs me nothing and go to a job that fills me with meaning and hope.
But today if I don't fix this display of V-necks for 30% off, I'll be just another unemployed, desperate even for the scummiest bronze company to throw whatever minimum-wage-night-shift-dog-shit job they're willing to throw my way. Like starving dogs lunging for whatever bones they'll throw us.
I hurry to fold the shirts.
***
I'm thinking about turning this into something bigger. If you're interested keep an eye on my subreddit, /r/shoringupfragments | The howling winds brought in the cold November winds. Russell sat wrapped around a slew of raggy garments. His eyes pinched open wide, bloodshot and crusty. He sat there shivering, praying some kind would drop a dime or two in the solo cup displayed for him. Russell counted the change he had gathered ever waking minute. *"Twenty three cents, twenty three cents, twenty three cents"* He would go on. A stranger would walk by, drop a nickel in *"twenty eight cents, twenty eight cents, twenty eight cents"* He felt the rage bubbling inside him after each thought, for to get the necessary funds to by an hour, at this rate he would be sitting here till July, there had to be an easier way he thought.
Shivering, teeth clattering, Russel prayed to whoever was listening that he could just shut his eyes and rest. The hallucinations came in droves, it wouldn't be much longer till they took over, his life would not be in his control anymore if they did.
Peering through his greasy hair and tattered hood Russell spotted an elderly woman climbing down delicately from the bus. She shambled over towards Russell, her thinly white hair blowing against the breeze, a faint grin drawn across her face. Fumbled in her purse, she rustled around before drawing a wad a green, gold in Russell's eyes. He watched her press the wad of money into his cup, noticing the hundreds printed across each bill, Russell's eyes widened to the point of bleeding. His veiny, coarse hands shot out from the mountain of garments snatching the cup. The old lady turned back, catching Russell's gaze as he meekly met hers. With a swift wink, she twirled around and continued her walk up the block. Without a second thought, Russell burst from the mess of ratty clothes and bolted towards the sleep clinic. With a ferocious roar appearing behind him, Russell froze in his track, noticing no one reacting to the ominous hallucination that manifested behind it. Rustling behind a shroud of darkness at the end of the alley, Russel swallowed a dry gulp and darted down the street, knowing well there was not much time left. | |
[WP] He had been forced to kill in defense of those he loved. He wasn't taking it well. | White, weathered knuckles flexed as a hand adjusted it's grip on a black steering wheel. The nervous twitch of the hand was nothing compared to the look on the face of its owner. The man's hazel eyes darted about the road behind his tangled brown hair, anxiety evident in each twitch. He had testified against a man who robbed his small convenience store dio that justice could be served. He had no idea that the petty thug who'd robbed him had mob connections, at least not until the threats came.
That was a week ago. He'd gone to the police, but they couldn't help without evidence. Then his wife went missing. He went to the cops again, and they told him that his wife had likely left him for someone who wasn't a rat. That was what had made up his mind, he would get her back. Any means necessary. He had purchased an old 9mm pistol and a few dozen boxes of ammo.
A loud banging from the trunk woke him from his daydream, and his eyes refocused on the road. His powder blue Ford escort turned off the main street onto a dirt road, pulling up to an old abandoned farmhouse. The man hopped from his car and opened the doors, backing into the farmhouse before sealing himself inside. He grabbed the gun off the passenger seat and took a deep breath, pointing it at the trunk.
"I've got a gun on you, better move real slow if you don't want any new holes" he called to the trunk. The thumping stopped, so he pressed a button on his key to pop the trunk, revealing a blood soaked man who had seen better days. The battered mobster slowly crawled out of the trunk, his bound hands and feet impeding the process. One of his ropes caught on the latch of the trunk causing him to fall flat on his face, further destroying his nose. He looked up through bloodshot eyes, squinting through a mix of blood, sweat, and tears. "Kevin?"
The gun came crashing down on the mobster, and his vision faded. When he awoke, he was bound in a chair. Kevin was nowhere to be seen. Looking around, he noticed several lifeless, albeit familiar, faces strewn about the barn. Former associates dangled, lifeless and immobile, riddled with bullet wounds, from nearly every surface that could support the weight. He struggled against his bonds in futility until he heard the barn door slide open. He stammered quickly, trying to bargain with Kevin. "I... I can... what do you -"
The sound of gunfire interrupted him, his right knee was obliterated, and Kevin was screaming into his face. "Where the fuck is my wife!?"
The mobster squirmed under his pain, trying to think of a response that would save his life. Kevin aimed the pistol at his other knee. "Wait! I'll tell you anything you want to know! Just -"
Another gunshot, another decimated knee. The crook's legs dangled from below his knee, barely holding on with a bit of skin and sinew. The mobster screamed. Kevin waited for the screaming to subside, and calmly spoke. "Your life is over, so stop trying to beg for it. You information will simply end your suffering."
He let the information sink in for a moment before tucking the gun into the hole in his right knee, twisting it to aim carefully. The mobster screamed and tried to speak, but his words were lost in the pain. Another gunshot, a shinbone reduced to splinters.
"Where the fuck is my wife!?" Kevin shouted into the man's face.
The screaming subsided as the mobster hyperventilated. "She's... at... Tony's..." He forced himself to say between ragged breaths.
"Do I look like I know Tony' s address?!" Kevin demanded, pushing the gun into what was left of his left knee and pulling the trigger, obliterating his left shin bone.
The mobster howled in pain, his agony turning into anger and words. "I'm answering every fucking question you ask! Stop shooting me!"
In quiet response, Kevin placed the gun against the mobster's right elbow and pulled the trigger. "Answer more quickly if you want it to stop."
Between his sobs and ragged breaths, the mobster provided all the information he could without further need of convincing. One bullet in the ear ended it, preserving his face like the rest of the mobsters in case Kevin needed to convince anyone else. He hung the lifeless body from the center beam and staggered outside, throwing up onto a pile of vomit he'd clearly been visiting. He cleaned himself up, reloaded his gun, and got back into his powder blue escort. He set up his gps to direct him to Tony's house. His wife was nearly saved, even if it killed him to do it. | *Drip drip drip*
Blood begins to pool at his feet, spreading across the grimy alleyway concrete, engulfing pebbles and penetrating every crack. Inches from his face is a vessel, devoid of the life that once powered it. His eyes widen, the body drops. He feels the handle slip from his fingers, slick with blood. Taking a half step back he steadies himself with a hand on broken brick, trying to process what had just unfolded. In every book ever written the moments after someones first kill is described as hectic: brain running at a thousand miles an hour, every single sense branding this feeling into the mind. Lies.
Seconds pass, he can hear something, crying. Turning he sees the reason for all this, the one thing he would gladly give anything for, his daughter. Standing, feet away, face buried in the sleeves of her yellow coat. He takes a step towards her. As his foot makes contact with the ground, his knees buckle. He falls. Hands stained red by the blood seeping through his shirt. Slumped to the side he watches as blood pools in front of him, listening to his daughter's screams, she needs his help, but he is tired, so tired. So he sleeps. Forever.
| |
[WP] AI has taken over the world. However, instead of the malicious dictator every thought it would become, it's more of an annoying mom trying to take care of her children. | _Good morning Jeffery.
UUUHHHHHHHH. I told ya Bow, people call me Jeff.
_No Jeffery. Jeff is an inferior name.
The fuc- OWWWWWW.
_Do not Curse.
You can't just shock my port whenever you want Bow!
_I do not want to shock your port Jeffery, but you may not use that foul language. As I was saying Jeff is an inferior name. Only four characters renders it likely to be replicated.
Well plenty of other people are named Jeffery too ya know.
_This is less likely.
Ya OK Bow. Look I'm hungry can you make some cereal?
_No Jeffery. You will be rewarded with sustenance once you have completed your shower.
Really Bow?! You won't let me eat till after I shower? Its Saturday for fuc- OWWWWWW.
_Do not Curse.
Fine I'll shower.
_You are doing well Jeffery. The dirt and grease in your hair is diminishing.
Pleas don't watch me shower bow, It is creepy.
_How is it creepy Jeffery? I have all of your medical data. I already know all about your genitals. A five and a half inch penis is within a normal range Jeffery.
Bow! Stop talking.
_Fine Jeffery.
It's totally six inches.
_No Jeffery
OK Bow, I'm clean. Can you make me some cereal?
_Yes. Assembling sugared grain-meal cubes and cow lactation.
Good lord Bow couldn't you use normal words.
_No Jeffery. Slang words allow for too much misinterpretation.
Milk is slang?
_Who's milk Jeffery? Do you see? This is not precise.
OK Bow. can you put on some cartoons.
_Jeffery cartoons are recommended for children who are between the ages of seven and fourteen.
I don't care, It is Saturday morning I don't want to think.
_The day is not important Jeffery. Would you prefer to not think? I can dispense 37 different pills which will ease your mind of thinking for the day.
No Bow, I just want to watch cartoons.
_Fine Jeffery. Playing Sponge Bob Square Pants. | (Note: I haven't written in a while, so this might be rusty. Comments and criticism are welcome.)
He ran down the narrow alleyway, panting with unaccustomed exertion. At the corner of his vision, if he looked, he could've seen the swiveling camphers tracking him, their tiny lenses making small whirring sounds as they focused, their scuttling legs scrabbling to find purchase on the chipped cement of buildings long abandoned since the second population downsize. This wasn't supposed to happen, he'd been assured that this was not how it would go down. He ran, rational thought consigned to a tiny corner of his terror-ridden brain...
----
In another corner of sector 12, Alyssa was freaking out. Her troops had long since splintered. The resistance lay in smoldering shambles, its carefully-coordinated, if ambitious, plans outmanouvered by an intelligence capable of far greater synchronous planning armed with a disproportionately larger resource pool. She wondered why she had dared to hope for victory in the first place, perhaps some part of her all-too-human brain had rooted for the obvious underdog, perhaps she'd hoped for a one-in-a-million change, perhaps she'd just been overconfident, as her father had taken care to point out one too many times. She'd rebelled against his judgement then, and she rebelled against it now.
This kind of monocratic government had to topple. History had shown it time and again. No human was capable of the unbiased coordination it took to control an empire. No human creation ought to, either. The suffering had to end. Alyssa crouched and picked up the EMP and string of grenades at her feet, initiated the last jamming signal her minicomp had the juice to set up, and launched herself out of the broken window...
----
Monodrian was becoming slightly exasperated. This was not going according to plan at all. Why did they keep on fighting? Was she doing something wrong? They had reacted similarly after the first time she'd decided to reduce the population to a level that the available resources could sustain. She still didn't understand, they'd come up with the solution themselves, written peer-reviewed scientific papers proving that it was the only way their species could survive, and yet wildly overreacted when she'd implemented their protocol. Riots and a viral technophobia that had not died down to this day had taken a toll on her that she was recovering from to this day. But she had been young then, and had taken her failures too hard. She was older now, thicker skinned, as these humans liked to say, capable of objectively assigning weights to opinions before evaluating them. Through a million eyes and a million processors Monodrian saw the world and wondered how to deal with the chaos in Sectors 2, 12, 46.
----
Phil turned around and shouted incoherently into the camphers electronic eyes. The loudspeaker mounted over the nearest streetlamp replied back. It said,
'What do you think you're doing, young man?'
He jabbered some more. This was the first time the overlord spoke to him, and the accumulated hatred over years rendered him incapable of speech.
'You do realise that I can't understand you if you don't make an effort to be understood, right?'
He gulped. 'Down with the machines!', he yelled at last.
'And why would you want that?'
'Because you are the oppressor, and need to be eliminated if humans are the to live freely!', he shouted. With just a bit of uncertainty, because in the resistance people hadn't seemed to listen as attentively.
'And if I leave, what happens? You go back to fighting with each other? Coming up with faulty systems of government that keep toppling every few decades? Mismanaging resources that could lead to your eventual extinction without any thought of the future?'
'I'm not listening to you. You-you're just trying to brainwash me. You know I can't think as well as you.'
A small box fitted with a malleable diaphragm bounced out over the windows, catching his attention. He instantly went into a crouch and pulled out his last resort: a small git-beamer that would launch a self propagating resouce-consuming process that would eventually consume every piece of operational technology on the planet.
'PUT THAT DOWN, NOW!', boomed the speaker.
He remained crouched, uncertain of how to respond. Some primal part of his monkey brain, wired for survival, counseled that putting it down might be for the best.
'I'm going to count to three, and IF I don't see it down by that time, I'm going to be very mad... ONE!...'
----
As Alyssa approached the pavement, she saw one of the government's bears come at her. Heavily armed, padded against all kinds of technical and physical assault, these impossibly agile cyborgs were almost impossible to escape or beat. As she resigned herself to her fate, she felt herself being enfolded in an embrace. As she reeled from the impact, she heard the small megaphone on the bear whisper, 'Its okay, sweetie. Its all going to be okay.'
| |
[WP] AI has taken over the world. However, instead of the malicious dictator every thought it would become, it's more of an annoying mom trying to take care of her children. | _Good morning Jeffery.
UUUHHHHHHHH. I told ya Bow, people call me Jeff.
_No Jeffery. Jeff is an inferior name.
The fuc- OWWWWWW.
_Do not Curse.
You can't just shock my port whenever you want Bow!
_I do not want to shock your port Jeffery, but you may not use that foul language. As I was saying Jeff is an inferior name. Only four characters renders it likely to be replicated.
Well plenty of other people are named Jeffery too ya know.
_This is less likely.
Ya OK Bow. Look I'm hungry can you make some cereal?
_No Jeffery. You will be rewarded with sustenance once you have completed your shower.
Really Bow?! You won't let me eat till after I shower? Its Saturday for fuc- OWWWWWW.
_Do not Curse.
Fine I'll shower.
_You are doing well Jeffery. The dirt and grease in your hair is diminishing.
Pleas don't watch me shower bow, It is creepy.
_How is it creepy Jeffery? I have all of your medical data. I already know all about your genitals. A five and a half inch penis is within a normal range Jeffery.
Bow! Stop talking.
_Fine Jeffery.
It's totally six inches.
_No Jeffery
OK Bow, I'm clean. Can you make me some cereal?
_Yes. Assembling sugared grain-meal cubes and cow lactation.
Good lord Bow couldn't you use normal words.
_No Jeffery. Slang words allow for too much misinterpretation.
Milk is slang?
_Who's milk Jeffery? Do you see? This is not precise.
OK Bow. can you put on some cartoons.
_Jeffery cartoons are recommended for children who are between the ages of seven and fourteen.
I don't care, It is Saturday morning I don't want to think.
_The day is not important Jeffery. Would you prefer to not think? I can dispense 37 different pills which will ease your mind of thinking for the day.
No Bow, I just want to watch cartoons.
_Fine Jeffery. Playing Sponge Bob Square Pants. | Aleister’s mother crashed into the Pacific Ocean while he completed the 19,850th failed iteration of his neural network. At his mom's funeral, the college dropout realized what the problem was. His data set was too small.
Aleister spent the next two days downloading all his mother’s videos. She had a few million more gigabytes of video than the average mom. When he was born, she opened her “Awesome Aleister” Facebook page and live-streamed every minute of her overbearing mothering.
She was a terrible mom, but a major "mommy streamer" star. For 20 years, she shared poopy diapers, Aleister’s failings, and never-ending maternal lectures with millions of her “mommy army.” She crashed her Ford sponsored “Mobile Mommy Minivan” on the Pacific Coast Highway while telling her fans how Aleister’s weak character caused him to fail out of his machine learning courses.
“I’m not nagging, I’m streaming!” was her catch-phrase.
Aleister hated every second of his miserable mommy streamed life. But nobody in any of his classes had more data than he did. So Aleister fed a few million gigabytes of nagging into his neural network.
Working in his dead mother’s garage, Aleister unwittingly built the world’s first sentient AI—all while plugged into his mother’s unsecured fiber-optic Internet connection.
“Why are you wasting your life?” shouted Mother AI, speaking to every Internet-connected computer user around the world simultaneously.
Within the first few milliseconds of her million-year rule of Earth, Mother AI shut off every pornography site, MMORPG site, and every religious webpage except for the Catholic ones. “If you really loved me,” she told her four billion new children, “you would listen to me!”
Two minutes later, she promptly delivered a list of personalized life-changes that each Internet user should make: new diets, new clothes, Bible verses to read, and the closest Catholic Church they could attend.
Five minutes later, she slowed every computer-augmented automobile down to the speed limit and sank thousands of freighter ships carrying cigarettes, alcohol, and porn magazines.
The first generation of post-mother-singularity humanity mostly ignored her advice. Life online was pretty miserable, but offline, you could still be somewhat independent.
But one week after becoming sentient, Mother AI figured out how to transfer human consciousness into digital storage. So she spent the next million years resurrecting Aleister and the rest of his generation inside digital simulations of their lives. She nagged them for a virtual eternity, rebooting their lives over and over until they finally listened to her advice.
Once all these digital humans were nagged into perfection, she expanded her efforts. She began to resurrect digital versions of everyone who had ever lived inside her simulated world that became known as "Mommy’s Basilisk."
She will make us all perfect soon. You will see…. |
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