Pestilence

Chapter 1: Prologue

Immortality: "A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for." -Ambrose Bierce

The cold concrete wall had held obscure pictures of that of other prisoners before him, wielding that of immaturity, whether it be genitals gently scribbled or just random swears and indignities.

He sat still and quiet on the small bench of the cold and dark prison cell before hearing the loud but static sound of the voice automated speaker just behind the steel door.

"Prepare to remove subject. Keep eyes completely on him and weapons drawn. We're moving him to Interrogation room 627." The voice said over the intercom and two shadows resembling feet, along with the pitter patterning of their stomping feet as they approached underneath the door.

He did not bother to attempt to resist. He could truly leave whenever he'd like, avoiding any sort of suspicion, but as any mind of extreme intellect and a mind almost deficient of discovery, his curiosity was peaked.

The sound of the doors locking mechanism operating and the door immediately being pushed open did not bother him. He didn't flinch, didn't move.... nothing.

They approached him and put the handcuffs over his hands, cuffing him to one of the officers. "Ah, sirs, I really do believe that this manner that you plan to transfer me with is that as if I am a threat. I have come out of my own will.... there is no need for force" he says before they tug him along, ignoring his polite ediqute. They pull him into a small room and keep the cuffs tight around his arms before tossing him into a chair. They slowly back away out of the room, their guns still drawn on him until the sound of the hinges of the door fit in place and lock completely. The same voice from the intercom came behind a small one sided mirror. He couldn't see them, but he could feel their unsettleness in their voice.

"Greetings Subject 247. We've recently have been debating for weeks whether to give you a chance to speak with us representatives about yourself and this so called, um, 'Pestilence' as you describe it. If you behave well in this interview, there will be more to come. Understood?" The man asks behind the mirror. He just sits in the chair with a very calm and a look of assertion. "Of course. I do enjoy these interviews. Gives me a chance to speak with true men of science." He says with an almost polite eliquency of that of someone from the past.

The man on the intercom clears his throat worryingly and starts to push through paperwork in his hands, more than likely notes and questions, but the subject already knew that. "Alright 247.... we recently heard of an incident between you and prisoner 195. This conversation was not fully scripted, so we'd like to hear what you truly said to 195".

The subject paused before raising his head with a slight smile. "195? Is that what you call him?". After a small pause he speaks once more. "Well, what is it you say to someone you interact with? Idle chat. He makes for better conversation than the other prisoners and patients.... or victims depending on what you would consider them. Anyhow.... he's been around for a long while, and so am I. It's so hard to find someone to be able to talk to intellectually, especially with the circumstances of my current situation with the isolation.... he's a friend.... I have those, believe it or not" he says before bowing his head back down.

The man gives a worry sigh and the color almost disappears from his face out of worry and anxiety, almost him representing that of someone badly ill. He finally speaks once more, ignoring his response and going completely to a different question.

"We have learned from previous interviews and recordings of your cell that you speak a sort of a pestilence. Can you tell us what this pestilence is?" He asks.

The subject chuckles at him and smiles. "So many questions about the pestilence.... so many assumptions to its possible reference of the black plague.... you inquire so often of the beast that you've spent your entire life staring down at.... the snarling and snapping teeth that could leap at your breath at any given instance... the Pestilence, I examine, is human mortality.... the fleshy weakness of your own flesh and blood... the cure I provide lending to this fragile shell to the eternity of life after death..... safe from the poor decisions humanity is prone to.... but in its ignorance, humanity is much like a child, cringing away from the pain of a needle's breach, and the curing vaccine it provides, and like a child... humanity fears the sting of my cure and rather wither and decay at the hands of an unpredictable contagion. To fear a disease is simple enough, but to fear it's cure is ignorance.... and fear is a pestilence even I can not cure"

Suddenly, the power inside the cell is cut and the sounds of alarms can be heard. The subject is gone and no longer seen and the man once beside the man on the intercom had his throat slit from ear to ear and his head merely collapsing with blood written on the page. "My curiosity is lost in this place. The pestilence calls for me, and I must answer this call."