shiver (FEATURED) | ✓

- ooo | prologue

"Oh." He wears no expression.

She stands up, but still he gazes past her, out onto the long road, but it's devoid of cars. It soon begins to bore him and he follows his mother inside. 

"There we are," she continues, taking his school bag from his shoulders and placing it on the floor before brushing her fingers over his hairline to peel off his mask. "Where's your mask?" She demands, suddenly panicking- what if he's ill, now, what if it's already spreading?

"Forgot it." And then she's all over him, checking him, making him inhale pure air, because she doesn't want him to get ill, she doesn't want to lose him... Not her son, not the boy that had been assigned to her by the government, just as every other child was assigned to certain parents. At least they can afford to have him checked up. 

Not her son, not the ten-year-old boy with the black hair and the blue eyes that she so adores...

▿

"Do you not think that it's perhaps... a little bit excessive, sir?" The young man's protest is quiet, hesitant, almost afraid.

"I see a shield around the world, Commander." 

He turns to face the young man, observing him. His features are still soft, not yet chiseled with age. He still looks like a boy, one on the cusp of adulthood. 

He is not yet done talking.

"Are you sure you wish to oppose me? There are things in this world that must be taken care of, Commander, and if nobody else is to act upon them, then we must. There is a fire inside us from which we must shield ourselves, one which fuels sentiment, hatred, lust and greed." The man's cold smile exponentially amplifies the importance of his words. "War is coming ever closer. Infection is growing, and I have hereby proposed a necessary evil to rid the world of all those we cannot save, and of all the things that threaten it." 

"But the death toll, Sir..."

Jonathan's demeanour is collected. "Those who die will be remembered in this new age that we will pull out from the debris that we will have left civilisations in. They will be martyrs, and they will have saved the new generations." By now, most of those in the room are nodding their heads in agreement of what is being said.

It is so easy to manipulate people with glorifying words.

The world will be protected, and that is all that matters right now. There will be losses, yes, and Jonathan will forget all of them, because they will not matter; they will be for the greater good. For now, though, he is done persuading them. It has been a long day at work, he still has calls to make, people to ask for favours, but despite all the work and the stress, he knows it will all pay off in the end.

"Dismissed," he calls, and stands with his documents, bringing the long meeting to a close. "We start the human trials tomorrow." He sees them all in his mind, the boys and girls, some not much older than his son, all unwanted children or volunteers handed over by international governments. There are over three hundred of them, three hundred children that will serve to protect their new world.

The trials worked on 57% of all the rats, but they are running out of time, and a majority by 7% is enough for them to proceed. They have to do it before it's too late: now is the right time. 

Now is the right time to change the world.

He is so close to achieving his goal.