It’s genius, really. Awful, horrifying genius.
Hour 22
Subject 72 has entered a state of full catatonia. Symptoms include
Muscle rictus
Lowered heart rate and core temperature
Limited pupillary response
Lack of proper equipment and trained personnel make this theory difficult to confirm, but I suspect infection initially targets the sensory cortex and not the thalamus as Dr. Shteyngart suggested. However, we both agree the effect on the amygdala (decodes emotions; determines possible threats) is profound—afflicted people will often convince themselves they are not afflicted, or actively avoid treatment, for fear of punishment/persecution/the isolation of quarantine.
I had intended to begin comparing the cellular resistances of Alpha and Beta, however, one of the assistants (Jane, lovely girl) dropped an entire batch of Beta infected bloodwork on the floor. Glass everywhere.
Not her fault, really—there’s too many of us crowded in here. I was considering sending them all off to get some sleep, but if we don’t crack this, nobody will.
Besides, it’s good to be around people. The thought of being alone right now is terribly disconcerting.
Hour 27
Subject 72 still in state of paralysis. BPM and breathing below half of human norms.
I have reviewed Dr. Shteyngart’s work on the damage the virus inflicts on synaptic vessels and found several errors.
I swear that woman wouldn’t know a hippocampus from a hippopotamus. One would think since she’s co-authoring this report she’d spend more time helping with it, instead of enjoying our good captain’s company. Someone more prone to paranoia might suspect she’s simply looking to steal my work and publish it herself.
Presuming we ever make it to a bloody jump gate.
Presuming they want us to make it to a jump gate.
Hour 28
Subject 72 showing minor muscle movement. Heart rate increased 12 percent in the last 30 minutes. Body’s immune system is fighting the pathogen—as previously surmised, Alpha strain was never intended to permanently disable victims. Still, Subject 72 is displaying remarkable resilience for something so inherently weak.
Twenty-three of us packed in this tiny lab. Forty-six eyes. Sweating away in these flimsy hazmat suits. So thin. So feeble. So little between it and us and us and it.
My foot hurts. My skin itches. Jane asked if I was well. Nosy little slip. None of her business. Couldn’t tell her, though, no. Smile and nod, smile and nodnodnodnod.
One of the assistants (can’t remember his name—Roberts? Robins?) talks to himself beneath his breath as he works. Thinks no one can hear him but I can.
I hear.
I see.
Oh, god.
Hour 29
Shteyngart finally back in the lab.
I wonder if she had time to shower.
Wonder if I peeled that suit open if I’d smell the captain’s stink.
She’s off dining in Ryker’s quarters and whispering her lies about me and meanwhile I’m stuck down here with these ignorant monkeys muttering to themselves and fucking each other with their eyes and all the while things are getting worse and no one is doing anything to stop it but me.
Jane is looking at me again. With those pretty green things floating in her head.
Stop looking at me.
Hour 30
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMEYOUFILTHYFUCKINGBITCH
ByteMe: read it?
CitB: fuck
CitB: fuck
CitB: fuck
ByteMe: well said
CitB: this is why they cut civi comms a few weeks back. the shutdown date lines up with when it mutated
ByteMe: we never really thought that was for maintenance
CitB: this is why AIDAN blasted Copernicus
ByteMe: we have a bigger problem
CitB: bigger than the AI killing a third of the fleet? bigger than it HAVING to?
ByteMe: the Copernicus shuttle survivors made it to the Alexander
CitB: you get survivors’ names?
ByteMe: Looked everywhere I could—NO documentation listing names on the Alexander servers
CitB: makes sense. They took AIDAN offline as soon as it X-ed out Copernicus
ByteMe: I found more stuff. I was so sure she was in there. Now I’m praying she isn’t. Can’t stop shaking.
CitB: wish i could say more than i’m sorry
ByteMe: nobody can. I have to tell Ezra what I found. And those survivors are all just penned up in the airlock
ByteMe: with each other
CitB: …
ByteMe: for now
CitB: fuck
ByteMe: yeah
ByteMe: fuck
ByteMe: Ez, I got something.
Mason, E, LT 2nd: on jimmy?
ByteMe: ya. it’s not conclusive, though, i think we should wait for more before you read
Mason, E, LT 2nd: Hell no, send now. Is he ok?
ByteMe: look, i didn’t want to lie to you and say I didn’t find anything, but don’t think you should read, honest
Mason, E, LT 2nd: why not what happened
Mason, E, LT 2nd: Kades?
ByteMe: look, it’s not good, but it’s—it’s too soon to know, can you just trust me?
Mason, E, LT 2nd: why what’s wrong?
Mason, E, LT 2nd: JESUS, TALK TO ME
ByteMe: i’m not trying to make this worse. there was a lot of stuff in those files.
Mason, E, LT 2nd: do you know something or not? This is my FRIEND dammit
Hour 22
Subject 72 has entered a state of full catatonia. Symptoms include
Muscle rictus
Lowered heart rate and core temperature
Limited pupillary response
Lack of proper equipment and trained personnel make this theory difficult to confirm, but I suspect infection initially targets the sensory cortex and not the thalamus as Dr. Shteyngart suggested. However, we both agree the effect on the amygdala (decodes emotions; determines possible threats) is profound—afflicted people will often convince themselves they are not afflicted, or actively avoid treatment, for fear of punishment/persecution/the isolation of quarantine.
I had intended to begin comparing the cellular resistances of Alpha and Beta, however, one of the assistants (Jane, lovely girl) dropped an entire batch of Beta infected bloodwork on the floor. Glass everywhere.
Not her fault, really—there’s too many of us crowded in here. I was considering sending them all off to get some sleep, but if we don’t crack this, nobody will.
Besides, it’s good to be around people. The thought of being alone right now is terribly disconcerting.
Hour 27
Subject 72 still in state of paralysis. BPM and breathing below half of human norms.
I have reviewed Dr. Shteyngart’s work on the damage the virus inflicts on synaptic vessels and found several errors.
I swear that woman wouldn’t know a hippocampus from a hippopotamus. One would think since she’s co-authoring this report she’d spend more time helping with it, instead of enjoying our good captain’s company. Someone more prone to paranoia might suspect she’s simply looking to steal my work and publish it herself.
Presuming we ever make it to a bloody jump gate.
Presuming they want us to make it to a jump gate.
Hour 28
Subject 72 showing minor muscle movement. Heart rate increased 12 percent in the last 30 minutes. Body’s immune system is fighting the pathogen—as previously surmised, Alpha strain was never intended to permanently disable victims. Still, Subject 72 is displaying remarkable resilience for something so inherently weak.
Twenty-three of us packed in this tiny lab. Forty-six eyes. Sweating away in these flimsy hazmat suits. So thin. So feeble. So little between it and us and us and it.
My foot hurts. My skin itches. Jane asked if I was well. Nosy little slip. None of her business. Couldn’t tell her, though, no. Smile and nod, smile and nodnodnodnod.
One of the assistants (can’t remember his name—Roberts? Robins?) talks to himself beneath his breath as he works. Thinks no one can hear him but I can.
I hear.
I see.
Oh, god.
Hour 29
Shteyngart finally back in the lab.
I wonder if she had time to shower.
Wonder if I peeled that suit open if I’d smell the captain’s stink.
She’s off dining in Ryker’s quarters and whispering her lies about me and meanwhile I’m stuck down here with these ignorant monkeys muttering to themselves and fucking each other with their eyes and all the while things are getting worse and no one is doing anything to stop it but me.
Jane is looking at me again. With those pretty green things floating in her head.
Stop looking at me.
Hour 30
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATME
STOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMESTOPLOOKINGATMEYOUFILTHYFUCKINGBITCH
ByteMe: read it?
CitB: fuck
CitB: fuck
CitB: fuck
ByteMe: well said
CitB: this is why they cut civi comms a few weeks back. the shutdown date lines up with when it mutated
ByteMe: we never really thought that was for maintenance
CitB: this is why AIDAN blasted Copernicus
ByteMe: we have a bigger problem
CitB: bigger than the AI killing a third of the fleet? bigger than it HAVING to?
ByteMe: the Copernicus shuttle survivors made it to the Alexander
CitB: you get survivors’ names?
ByteMe: Looked everywhere I could—NO documentation listing names on the Alexander servers
CitB: makes sense. They took AIDAN offline as soon as it X-ed out Copernicus
ByteMe: I found more stuff. I was so sure she was in there. Now I’m praying she isn’t. Can’t stop shaking.
CitB: wish i could say more than i’m sorry
ByteMe: nobody can. I have to tell Ezra what I found. And those survivors are all just penned up in the airlock
ByteMe: with each other
CitB: …
ByteMe: for now
CitB: fuck
ByteMe: yeah
ByteMe: fuck
ByteMe: Ez, I got something.
Mason, E, LT 2nd: on jimmy?
ByteMe: ya. it’s not conclusive, though, i think we should wait for more before you read
Mason, E, LT 2nd: Hell no, send now. Is he ok?
ByteMe: look, i didn’t want to lie to you and say I didn’t find anything, but don’t think you should read, honest
Mason, E, LT 2nd: why not what happened
Mason, E, LT 2nd: Kades?
ByteMe: look, it’s not good, but it’s—it’s too soon to know, can you just trust me?
Mason, E, LT 2nd: why what’s wrong?
Mason, E, LT 2nd: JESUS, TALK TO ME
ByteMe: i’m not trying to make this worse. there was a lot of stuff in those files.
Mason, E, LT 2nd: do you know something or not? This is my FRIEND dammit
