Anarchy at a molecular level.
Set in the not too distant future, a group of people are determined to bring the modern world to its primal knees. From notes in his journal, one of them takes us through the journey to potential apocalypse. (more info)
Did you miss Week 1? Read it here.
DAY EIGHT: NOVEMBER 02 2025
Here follows this morning's midnight meeting:
DNA Pirate: Before we begin any formal structure here, I'd like to firstly apologise for the comm-unit theft - out of my hands so to speak. But secondly that we need to foresee these kinds of things happening and what's the point of going to all the trouble of getting serials wiped and randomisers installed if we then get pulled from our assignments when we hit a snag? Right. Let's begin.
P00101: Thanks for that. I don't think we need to get into that debate right now. The reports that P00108 and P00104 have been providing are beneficial to the project and the ongoing work. Thanks guys. We do seem on track for the final stage, but the reports are vital for the various stages and their possible symptoms.
P00104: I'd like to add that the research, the data collecting, and the technical knowledge of the entire dermasvirus team have created a marvel that should be respected on every level.
DNA Pirate: Are the symptoms of the subject in any way in line with what you'd projected? I want to know if there's any deviation from the goal here?
P00104: So far it is all on track. You can never fully predict, but we're strong.
DNA Pirate: Excellent. I'd also like us to consider moving our initiation date forward a week.
P00109: What?
P00104: We can't deviate...
DNA Pirate: I don't see how it would change the...
P00109: This is crazy. We need to know what we're dealing with here first.
DNA Pirate: We know what we're going to be dealing with.
P00104: 90% sure at this stage. 10% unknown.
DNA Pirate: I thought you said.
P00104: There's always a margin of error or deviation.
P00109: Deviation from the plan. We agreed!
P00101: Can we keep it ordered here? The focus remains. The plan remains. There is no deviation. The only deviation allowed for is the dermasvirus itself and any contingency plans that we've drafted.
DNA Pirate: Just a suggestion. It shouldn't make any difference if we're going to set it in motion no matter what. It's just the level of effect that's going to vary - surely.
P00109: I still don't think that we should do anything more than what we're doing to this subject and her family or colleagues. The message will be clear enough.
DNA Pirate: people have a low attention span. After a week it will be in the gutters of the media and side note in a conspiracy theorists networking page.
P00109: Fuck. Whatever.
P00101: Again, back to the draft contingency plans. You'll each receive a copy. I'm not going to go through it tonight. But I want your thoughts and suggestions asap.
DNA Pirate: (the usual points were raised and tedious admin dealt with).
P00101: P00108 has her early morning tomorrow so we're going to adjourn. As always, these meetings are to raise issues - briefly - to address anything that may come up late in the week, and to meet face to face: to remind each of us that we still remain a unified group. The faces before you are those that we trust and respect for what we can bring to this campaign.
DAY NINE: NOVEMBER 03 2025
I still don't get it: P00109 still insists on raising his concern for the level at which we are distributing the DNAvirus. For some reason he thinks that a "firm message" needs to be sent rather than the destruction that we plan.
"Oh, please Joe Shmoe, please don't manipulate your DNA to make you a better person. Please don't warp what evolution has taken billions of years to perfect. Please don't turn yourself into an egocentric megalomaniac."
We've been harping on these issues for over 2 decades. We've protested. We've boycotted. We've terrorised. Now is the time to pull the pin on the grenade that they are willingly holding in their hands; the grenade that they've been daring nature to fight back with. Well, nature's about to get a friendly hand. And like the grenade, it's all going to blow up in their faces and there's bugger-all they can do about it. Blow there noses off to spite their faces.
Killing one person for the cause is a smudge on the tarmac. Killing a group of people causes a traffic jam - questions, answers, contingency plans, and paranoia. Kill a city and there's global awareness in half a day. Kill a country and the world goes mental. That's a message! Not a couple of post-it notes slapped onto the foreheads of passersby. Small-time wastes Time. Time with a capital T-N-T!
The 3rd World War is about to be declared and it's not between the countries of the world. It's between the people that think they hold the power and the ones that REALLY hold the power. There's no one to retaliate against. There's no one to aim their missiles at. And best of all, there's no borders to invade. Who do they stop when it's all begun?
They've said long ago that the death of the human race will not come from within, but from without. Viruses evolve. Viruses get stronger. Viruses come back at ya.
We've just put our own 2 cents worth into the mix for good measure.
Let's see what brews.
DAY TEN: NOVEMBER 04 2025
Been prepping for the next phase.
Although not being implemented just yet, the necessary plans need to be carefully laid out and locations confirmed and contacts double-checked.
I'll be crossing borders, meeting new, like-minded people. A few plane rides, railroads and a bicycle or two, will enable the safe dispersion of the global dermasvirus - the final strain! Once that has been successfully completed it's just a matter of waiting for the date to arrive. The greatest event that anyone has ever witnessed on such a scale. Millions of people will be watching it unfold across continents. No one will be immune. No class, no race, no one other than humans - and a select few.
Those select few will bring the stability that the world so dearly craves. Subconsciously man is yearning for this rebirth. They just don't know it.
It will be like the dawning of the Iron Age. All the tools will be available to us, but we will set the standards up front. For the betterment of the species and quality of life on Earth - the wholeness of the planet considered. Not a prettier species, or the massaging of a superiority complex.
Down to Earth. Up with the planet.
DAY ELEVEN: NOVEMBER 05 2025
We're nearly at the stage of buying the various transportation tickets and hire-cars. I've gone over my checklist of personal items, clothing and other travel necessities that I'm going to need.
Feeling somewhat detached from the group as I mentally prepare for this part of the journey. Being from another part of the planet I'm seen as the foreigner, the roamer. They're all attached to their city, their homes, and their safe environments. I left that long ago, and escaped to a new life. I arrived here with minimal baggage - a small backpack and personal ghosts. They've got their lives weighing them down and they don't even know it. I wonder how easy it's going to be for them when the time comes and there's no turning back. Are they going to snivel and whimper at fate's feet? Is there going to be guilt and remorse flying around? Or are they going to step up and drop the shit?
In a way it's like they are using me to distance themselves from the mission. Distance themselves from the very human emotion that genocide brings up in the pit of your stomach.
Nobody else rose to the occasion. I felt the stares and looks of judgment when I took the task. As if they all thought I was the callous one; I was the heartless freak.
Only a week or so of traveling and then I'm back. Back to reality and back to the group. They can all envy me as I tell them of the final days of each city; one of the last of our group to go where the virus will soon wreak havoc.
I'm feeling a bit humbled by the honour. Never thought that would happen. Not like I give a shit about the empires we've built, or the magnitude of man's reach on this planet. But to be the one instrumental in bringing it all down: God that feels good.
Crack! and our concrete idols crumble.
Bang! and our world dies.
DAY TWELVE: NOVEMBER 06 2025
Plane and train tickets have been bought. Hire cars at various areas have been booked and paid for upfront: all with anonymous business accounts.
A few days till the real journey begins. My bag is packed. Travel light.
The team will keep me posted on our subject while I'm on the road. I'll likewise be sending them daily summaries. I haven't had any contact with them today. I think they are filling their respective lavatories and receptacles with bile and diced carrots.
I won't lie, I've felt the urge to dry heave my conscience. But that's all it was dry. No substance.
I must say this journal has been rather cathartic. Seeing my intentions, goals and purpose laid out in black and white makes me aware of the enormity of the task before us. Before me.
Before me?
After me?
What then?
A world of possibilities.
I expect the next few reports on our subject are going to be revealing. There is going to be a dramatic shift. One that will NOT go unnoticed.
Soon we will need access to her social online connections, doctor and lab results. But that's already set up and accessed. Our penetration is more than just dermal, skin deep. We are diving through the rotting surface of the world, and into it's writhing bloody cancerous mass and pulling hard.
DAY THIRTEEN: NOVEMBER 07 2025
Just settled into my seat on my first part of my journey. On an encrypted data-link. Pinging my online system's security as I upload this entry.
All seems good. If it's not people hacking your network and accessing your data it's people hacking your DNA. HA!
Your immune system is no firewall against a breach on your DNA.
Depart in 20 minutes. Heading SW. 10 hours overnight. Arrive 9.15 am.
Today dragged on. Had my last meal at home for a while. Cleaned up. Took one last look at the stacks of hardcopy books in the hallway and living room. Most I'm carrying digitally anyway, but they'll be missed. It's the one luxury-personal-attachment I give myself in this world. They can be given away when the time comes and more collected wherever I find myself living. They are not allowed to hold me down. My backpack is bad enough.
I once took a flight across country, two hours there, two hours back. It was for a meeting in the other city. I took my jacket, mobile and my pad. No carry-on luggage. No baggage to check in. I walked on and walked off. For some reason that was the most liberating feeling I've ever had in my life - if you don't count taking a piss in the wilderness without clothes on. No hands required.
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The wheels are in motion: did the dermasvirus transfer onto the lady handing out our drinks orders. I think she thought I was coming on to her. Yeah, likely!
We have officially passed the point of no return.
I've sent a message to the others.
------------------------------
No damn response.
I'm just going to let the passing lights and gentle thrum of the tracks drift me off to sleep.
DAY FOURTEEN: NOVEMBER 08 2025
Woke up about 5 minutes ago to the announcer cackling on about the next stop. My stop.
Ordered coffee. Hopefully it will be waiting for me by the time I'm finished here in the toilet. Ten I'll grab a bite to eat and catch up on the news feeds. Still no goddamn word from those useless pricks. I get the distinct impression that I'm being left out in the cold. Whatever the case, our mission - my mission - is on track.
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The same waitress from yesterday handed me my coffee. Ha! I think I freaked her out even more today. She stretched over to place my cup and saucer down on the table. I leaned in quickly, grabbing her hand and stared straight into her eyes. Deep blue. Flawless - for now. Didn't notice anything yet, other than a twinkle of fear and anger.
"Sir!" she had said and flicked my fucking hand off hers. Totally unaware that I'm part of her already. Well, the dermasvirus anyway.
An hour till we disembark. Breakfast time.
----------------------
Seriously, do me a favour. Message from the team reads:
Subject #1 has left work early.
That's it! Nothing else?
If they aren't going to furnish me with any more particulars, then I'm just going to have to hack her social networks. See if she goes crying to mommy about how she's feeling.
10 minutes to the main terminal. No problem.
----------------------
Her online life has revealed little. No parents alive to speak of. Therefore no sniveling. No recent posts. Dare I say no one to give a crap.
This is my stop.
----------------------
I can't breathe! What the fuck just happened? P00104 that piece of shit traitor. How the fuck did we, I, not see it?
MESSAGE: P00102
You ignorant morons. What the hell is going on? Your comms have been practically non existent. Now I get off at my stop at $@^# and guess who is there to greet me with a blank stare, that now says so much in hindsight? None other than P00104. Yes! That French fucker Guillaume. And fuck protocol before you start preaching about using real names here. Because if what he says is true then it's all flushed down the toilet.
He calmly invited me for a cup of coffee as if he just wanted to catch up and talk about the goddamned weather. Like him being at $@^# was the most normal thing in the world.
My face must have said everything because I didn't utter a "what the fuck", "who the fuck", nothing and he smirked his "Hi, Ryan. We need to talk."
And talk he did. I'd didn't say a word. I just listened to his tale. You may be interested in it.
1. Subject #1 will die. But not because of the virus. The virus will reverse itself. She will die an old lady in 70 or 80 years.
2. I, on the other hand, am Subject #2.
3. And the rest of the team are in completely random descending order.
4. Within 5 days we all will be dripping skin, fingers, organs and liquid eyeballs.
5. Everyone that I have come into contact with will have a slight cold. Nothing life-altering.
Charming. If I didn't have this sick churning sensation in my gut right now I would say he was talking shit. Then again, nerves will do that to the strongest of us. And why would he travel all that way as a practical joke or even an empty threat?
So best you rocket scientists get into the DNA sequence and check what the fuck is going on. In the mean time I am on the first direct ride back that I could get.
I will be taking a fucking sleeping tablet and hope this bullshit oozes out of my psyche by the time the last drop of whiskey drains from my glass.
End Message.
DAY FIFTEEN: NOVEMBER 09 2025
Arrived back. Something is up. No response. About to step onto the train before Subject #1’s stop.
Damnit! She just boarded. I was about to get up when she stepped through the doors. She’s looking all rosy and peach fucking perfect. She made direct eye contact with me as she weaved her way through the other passengers towards my section of the train. It’s like she’s a new person. More open.
Happy to be bloody alive.
This has all gone to shit.
I’ve gone to shit. There’s a red patch forming on my right hand and there is a burning sensation around my neck. Those bastards better be pulling the piss.
Heading over to P00102’s apartment to get to the bottom of this fiasco.
Will record everything on my comm-unit.
>>>>>>Recording:
>>>>>>Translating to English:
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Ah, sure. No, go ahead."
"Thanks. Haven't I seen you on this line before?"
"No."
"You sure? You look very familiar."
"Wasn't me."
"Sorry, I'm not usually forward, but I recently realized that you have to make the most of life. Never let opportunities slip through your hands. So I had to ask."
"No problem."
"You don't sound like you are from around here?"
"No. Not from here."
"I would like to travel. See the world. There is so much beauty out there. Look at all these beautiful people. Just like you and me."
"Not really."
"Oh, I think so. They are all keeping to themselves, too afraid to reach out beyond what they know. Wanting people to like them, to notice them. But without drawing attention to themselves. Blending in but not wanting to blend in."
"Doing things to be like everyone else, you mean."
"Yes. But to feel like they are part of something. Not feeling alone. It's all about being accepted."
"No matter what."
"Sometimes. The pressure to be loved is there from birth. Wanting a parent to love you and accept you for who you are. Not what they think you should be. That is where the cycle begins. What we see here is not one person trying to impress a stranger. It is a son or a daughter trying to impress their god. Their parent. Even the parent who loves them unconditionally, no matter what, unknowingly puts pressure on their child to never let them down. People running their lives to maintain approval from a superior being. God, mother, mentor. What is the difference?"
"Status is another god. Ego."
"And when you bring someone down to that basic human need, it is no different to a baby crying in a crib wanting the comfort of another. A baby animal does not survive if it is not accepted by its mother. It is dead if the herd does not see it as an equal. Runts who are different to the rest die off, starved and abandoned."
"Better to be different than go with a herd heading for the edge of a cliff."
"Better to be the one to make a difference and turn the herd around. Would you rather stand back and watch as they plummet over the edge, or be the one to tell them where they are headed. Kindness has a way of working for everyone, not just the individual."
"This is my stop."
"It was really nice talking to someone willing to talk in this place."
"Sure."
"I hope you go out there and make a difference. Will I see you again?"
"I don't think so."
"Are you okay? You are sweating and it is freezing in here."
"Bye."
[Sound of doors sliding open.]
"What the hell is happening to me?" Heavy breathing. "I need to get out of here."
[Footsteps quicken. The sounds of people moving past.]
[The sounds of the underground fade as traffic noises fill the air.]
[A car hooter and tires squeal]
"Pedestrian, motherfucker!"
[Running feet and panting.]
"Nearly there."
[Sound of knocking]
"Open the fuck up, Julian!"
[Banging on a door. The squeak of a door opening.]
"Anyone here? Julian, where the hell are you? Where's the goddamn light switch?"
[A noise from a nearby room]
"Julian?" A light switch clicks. "What the fuck?"
[Someone says something inaudible.]
>THE END<
We set out with noble intentions. I want the world to know this. Things got twisted along the way. Some of our group got twisted along the way.
I righted a ship that was going to end us - the world. I’m not expecting accolades or praise for something I was a part of to start with.
The preceding journal is there as proof of the experiment and the knots that arose in the majority of the team. The insights into my colleague’s thoughts should plainly show these knots and how the plan so quickly unraveled. I couldn’t allow it to go any further than what was originally intended. So I made adjustments. Call it a fail-safe. Security.
Our target was given an expiry date on her dermasvirus. Lucky her. My team wasn’t. My only hope is that this will be recognised as the warning it was originally intended to be.
Why was she chosen? Other than that she was young and healthy: no other reason. If we could create this virus, anyone can. And you put your lives, your DNA, in the hands of geniuses like us everyday. Wake up.
I have sacrificed my team, my friends, so that the message is loud and clear. Fuck with your DNA and you fuck with our humanity. Our flaws are what make us. To become some hybrid outside of the realm of evolution and natural selection puts the power of God in our hands. We barely have the right to exist as it is, never mind assuming Divine control in every waking moment of our lives. Evolution says we are perfect as we are, right now.
If this document is buried, it will resurface.
If this DNA fashion continues, there will be something more to come. Patience and compassion go so far for an obstinate child.
Today, people need access rights or passwords to give and receive/accept data via dermas-transfer - but our virus circumvents all this. If only the government could get hold of that tech they'd have a fucking field day as far as personal rights go. Think about it.
Take your DNA back. Take the evolution of your ancestors back. Next thing you know you’ll all be giving your souls away for a moment, an extra day or month, of longevity.
We are all meant to die. We aren’t more special than a fruit fly.
As my colleague came to see the destruction, the fruits of our labours, laid out before him in that apartment, my only hope is that he saw the pain that was coming for him. Was there an inkling of regret for what was once a concept and then was bloody real?
The genius must be prepared to experiment on himself. Otherwise walk away.
>>>>>>Recording:
“The protector serum?”
“I tampered with it. What you all assumed was stopping any infiltration was in reality exposing you to the virus from inception. But, it was manipulated to fight the virus for a time, and eventually lose.”
“So it took a while for the virus to manifest.” [Cough]
“Yes. But your bodies would’ve used so much resource fighting that when it was programmed to surrender, the virus hit harder and faster than before.”
[Spitting] “And the lab samples?”
“They would’ve self-destructed by now.”
“No backup.”
“None.”
“We wasted our lives. You fucked us.”
“The lives were not wasted. Call it a sacrifice for the greater good.”
“The greater good? Those egomaniac fucktards are the greater good?”
“They are. They just need to be guided every now and again.”
“And what if they don’t take the hint?”
“I will make sure of that.”
“I never liked you.”
“I know.”
“How long are you keeping me here?”
“I’m not keeping you here. I’m waiting with you. You can’t move yourself anywhere. There is no doctor on earth who can help you. Not even a hacker like me.”
“Where’s Julian?”
“His body is in the other room. He stopped breathing about an hour ago.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m irritated I wasn’t there when it happened. I was moving you in here.”
“I’m sure that [cough] will weigh heavily on your heart.”
[Long pause]
“What was our original intention with hijacking DNA?”
“Kill the world and start again.”
“No. That became your mission. The original intention was to take one or two lives. Lives that would be noticed. We wanted everyone to see the death. We wanted them to see the blood.”
“Like this?”
“Yes. So how is this outcome any different?”
“Because it’s me. Us. You fucking backstabbing cock-sucker!”
“Sure. But we can’t have fanatics with so much control in the world.”
“Says the dick watching me die right in front of him.”
“Change comes with the price of pain. You happen to be the one feeling it today.”
“So what now?”
“You die. The world moves on. Evolution continues, naturally.”
“The vain species lives on.”
“And an evolutionary line of superiority complex dies in this bed today.”
“I hope they hunt you down and make you bleed, slowly.”
“You know very well they will never find me. They will be too busy trying to secure the lives of their citizens to worry about where I am in the world.”
“They should be worried.” [Cough]
Did you miss Week 1? Read it here.
I hope you enjoyed the read - Stephen Embleton X••X