Chapter Text
Log 1560 Event 3 - 9.33 PM - 2040
I have finished classifying the unidentified organism floating around Room 3421’s window. Brian has advised me against classifying such organism. It’s only his way of getting out of his job to retrieve things out in space.
I have taken the liberty of being handed the insect after his ‘exploration’ out in space.
The examined insect is a species of moth that feeds mostly on tears. Origin from space unknown. Origin from Earth: thousands of hits. Everyone is confused why it ended over the other side of its atmosphere.
I think the entomology department accidentally threw a specimen overboard.
A problem is filed with Jimmy Price’s department. However, I have not been able to personally see to it. Level of emergency is code yellow, meaning, no one still doesn't’ give a shit about it.
I do. I will check it tomorrow.
Progress is made on Earth today. Subject 5595 has successfully harvested both rice and corn fields. Subject is comfortably lounging on his hammock in the middle of nothingness and sand. Subject is enjoying his last case of cigarettes manufactured in 2017. Subject is still incredibly masculine.
I will continue the report tomorrow- signing off...
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Will pushes his hands on the table and lets the computer chair roll away. He leans his head on the back rest, leaving his arms entwined on his chest. Event 1 has been chaotic with different theories about where the insect came from. The commotion has caused Will a few precious moments of his time wasted on an anxiety attack.
They are frequent these days. Every night, his eyes fall against the darkness of artificial night with images of more darkness but alive, creeping against the lifeblood of their ship.
He shivers. The letter from Price’s department has been on his desk nearing the end of their office hours. It contains a few descriptions of the moth’s whereabouts, its species, habitat and etc. A sentence, written in the ends of the letter, still plagues Will’s mind. It says that he should come by their unit as soon as he is able.
Will’s secretary and assistant, Beverly Katz, decides to drop off an unfair amount of paperwork to sift through. The letter has been unintentionally forgotten.
Will rubs at his eyes. No matter how urgent it can be, he hopes it isn’t something that will jeopardize the life he creates for the citizens of the city aboard USBM V. Being the head of the PAU, short for Plantae & Animalia Unit, for about four years, Will has made a number of contributions to their space society. Some of his works involve creating a new species of vegetable that can live low maintenance--less water, less air, less sunlight. The sun’s rays are certainly difficult to collect these days. It is either through solar panels or solar generators. The citizens are not terribly fond of the direct glint of the sun anymore. Will also has created numerous different breeds of plants that grows in the extremes.
A moth can’t simply destroy it.
Day 1561 of Event 1 rolls in and Will makes his way from his living quarters to the brightly light corridor leading to the Research and Resources wing of the ship.
"Good morning, Will." A tall woman with spiked fiery hair greets him as she looms over a microscope. The entry is filled with large white desks with scattered equipment arranged haphazardly. Will dips his head and continues his trek to Price's department.
A few more people greet him as he makes his way. Some peeks at him from the glass windows separating the lab rooms and secured experimentation hubs. A lot of their greets made Will's mood darken. Lies loom in every corner.
“It can simply destroy everything we’ve built for these people. For us! You know, if you came here earlier, I’d not have a lot of time thinking about what to say. So fuck it, I’m telling you this bug brought in some kind of strain that activates by applying heat to it, especially body heat." When Jimmy caught sight of Will, he spouted out his concerns. A few breaths passed and he spreads several pictures of the bugs on the coffee table. The rest of the PAU has not been informed of the current situation.
"I don't think a moth can simply bring in something," Will counters. There are a lot of seats around Price's office, but Will decides to sit on the tiled floor near the table.
"I don't think so too. Everything is not viable to live in space," Price sits down beside Will. His words resemble an out of tune song, ringing over their heads.
Will closed his eyes and lets his hands fall against the cool glass. Images of dark space and the glint of the moon greets his vision. The moth flies around the ship, taunting his perception.
"Motive. Someone wants this to happen," Will turns towards Price with a frown. His eyebrows are knitted together. His palms flat against his knees.
"You're telling me that someone intended that to be found at that location with that strain?"
Will looks up at the high ceiling of the laboratory. It is a far reach. "Someone wants to destroy our voyage to Mars."
Price rubs his cheek. He has been a long term member of the unit and hearing news about the downfall of his city is unsettling. There have been records dating back from present through 20 years dedicated to reports like these. All are accounts of treason to the government by creating devices or contagions that are harmful to their collective goal.
Everyone aboard the USBM V is headed to a new settlement in Mars. The new movement government has decided that Earth's alarming temperature will not be viable for life anymore after 15 more years. With enough money and supplies from different sponsors, US citizens are the first to almost complete the one way travel towards a new life in Mars. Since then, numerous people has been recruited, recycled and retired for the general services of the ship. Will Graham has the entry to one of any unit a dream since his first steps into his quarters.
A simple moth cannot tear his position away. "Is Zeller the only point of contact?"
Price feels his companion's disappointment. He knows that a lot of them have neglected their duty and resorts to lax entertainment and mundane researches. They have been reckless.
"No."
A shiver makes its way down Will's spine. The rise of acid starts deep from his belly, nauseating and burning. The tendrils of a panic attack is starting. Will tries to bottle it up by biting his lip. His empathy has been in an overdrive since the letter because he already knows that something is not right. Something else is happening under his nose.
He looks over at Price. "With over a million people on board, how many is the chance that we'll have a hit for antibodies?"
Price stands up, patting his pants and leaning his hip against a hardwood desk. He eyes Will's prone form--arms around his knees, chin tucked between them. He certainly did not look like one of their higher ups.
"We can't broadcast this," Price whispers, unsettled, bringing out his reading glasses. He wipes them on the corner of his lab coat.
Will shakes his head. He opens his mouth, working it with what he wants to say but all that went out is a sigh. He works up the power to reply, "No. The people do not deserve to be alarmed."
"The government will start asking why people are dropping dead at the minute."
Will snapped his head towards Price. "What are the symptoms?" His heart beat stepped up with the new information. "Why did you not tell me at once?"
"I assumed you've seen this," Price brings out a remote from his pocket and presses a button. A screen drops down from the ceiling and turns on.
"Session 2. The time is 9 AM. Three people are confined in ICU. We have no known cause. Tests concluded a new strain of Avian Flu virus. A lot speculates that it might be airborne and if transmitted through vents, half of the population will experience, as observed: coughing, skin rashes and lesions, blood expulsion, body collapse, then death. The public and private sectors has yet to gather information about the matter. Division Head Graham and Bloom will be notified."
A person in a hazard suit is in a room divided into three with large clear tarpaulins. In each partition, three hospital beds are seen. The infected are pale, and the only thing that gives them color is the mess of blood on their gowns.
Price's gulp is loud in the silence of his lab section. The screen automatically shuts off and inserts itself back into the high ceiling. "I suppose we turn this in as soon as possible."
Will stands up but not fully. He is bent over with palms flat against his shivering knees. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing with withholding information. I want a team to start constructing a reverse on that strain. Is that possible?"
He faces Price whose body is turned away from him "Jimmy. Is that possible?"
Price starts to fidget, wringing his hands.
"Don't think that I don't know. I know that the moth is alive. It escaped your supervised team, careless as they are, picked from the new ones who you thought were capable of dissecting one insect from the unknown," Will breathes, "You think I'm not capable. I do not work for myself, Jimmy, remember that. A million are unaware of your mistake."
"The department wants you revoked from your position as Division Head. We deem you unfit for duty and filed a complaint against you," Price looks him in the eye, finally.
"On what basis?" Will has a conclusion ready made from all Jimmy's tells.
"Mental instability. Poor social conduct and connectivity. Poor feedback."
"No, Price, you want the position for yourse--"
The doors banged opened, hinges squeaking from the force. "Excuse me," Alana Bloom calls out to them, "The committee wants a word, Will. Price."
Will has barely stepped into Price's personal bubble, but it seems that his retreat towards the exit has shown that Will's words are enough for him to be disturbed.
A few months ago, Will has already started piecing together that most of the Animalia Unit are rooting for Price to become their overall senior head for their supervision. But it seems that their petition are blocked due to Will still in position as well as Alana. Talks has been floating around the cafeteria where most gossip are tossed around. Will despises it, but he needs the interaction to get more half truths than the half lies told to him by most of his team members.
A lot of them have distanced from him after they knew he had encephalitis in the first months of his term. A lot of them has been burdened by his loss of time, dizzy spells, confusion and memory loss. Soon, they notice that even after he is treated of it, he continues to be what he is as ill.
Soon, they lose trust in him. Have they met him beforehand, they will know that his horse is hitched between Aspergers and Autism. Have they not been biased to create immediate conclusions, they may be able to contribute better to his research about plant growth and stability.
Stable.
The same line of thought bounces around the meeting with the higher ups where Alana called them to. It is a meeting held to respond to several complaints about Will's term of duty.
While Will is in his seat, several therapists and doctors create psychological profiles of him even if he is present.
Will wants the meeting to be over.
"I understand," he starts, "I will submit my resignation tomorrow at Event 2 which in Earth is called afternoon. I will comply with my department's request as soon as possible."
The room is silent except for paper being sorted out and filed into brown envelopes.
"So that settles it--" Price's awkward laugh was cut off with Will's voice.
"Under two conditions."
The president of the Research and Resource, Dr. Frederick Chilton, hushes the flustered entomology head. He gestures his hand for Will to continue. When Price brings up a fuss, he sighs, "Will Graham has contributed to the success in agriculture of our society. He is entitled to talk and is still given privileges despite his condition."
"I will lead the project to find a cure for the strain. My team will consist of Katz and my own group who pledge loyalty."
The president stood up to threaten Price who started voicing out a protest, "Continue."
"I forfeit my right on ship. I will leave for Earth at Event 3 tomorrow, evening on Earth."
"Why do you plan to turn in this right given to you? You are not exiled."
Will wants the meeting to be done with. "I know where to find the cure. I know it is on Earth. Give me the right tools to beam it up. I will leave everyone in peace."
The meeting was adjourned late into Event 3. Alana catches up to Will who immediately leaves the room after the president has dismissed everyone back to their offices.
Alana holds his shoulder. Will stops in his tracks.
"You don't have to leave."
Will looks over his shoulder, "This moth has come from Earth. If I get an uninfected species and collect what can be of a cure from it, I will do everything to continue life here, even without me."
Her grip on his shoulder loosens, "You're important here."
Will smiles, "I don't need pity, Alana. I know you mean well. But you want me gone too." His legs starts to bring him far away from where Alana has been rooted. Politics in the ship is a never-ending cycle. If his life is monopolized by the dreaded reshuffling from he higher ups, he deems it time that he left for good.
Anyways, he thinks, he doesn't belong to this city, he belongs down on the rough sand of the Earth where his roots belong. Into the life he remembers as a child. Into the soil where he is born and raised. Will has been waiting patiently for this opportunity to come, serving his people and serving himself.
And most importantly, serving his personal interest towards an unknown companion in the lost world of Earth.