0800 Hours [slash]

0800 Hours: Security Tape #246-88A

"Wait, I still don't get it. Why did the M.O.D release the Infection in the first place? They haven't gained anything? All it's done is fuck everything up."

A hesitant pause.

"They didn't release it, Cameron. I did. By accident."

"By accident? How do you 'accidentally' release a monstrous pathogen on the entire world?"

"When we moved onto... onto human testing, some subjects didn't respond. I never liked human testing, but I'd signed the contract already. It was mostly done on prisoners, people with long sentences and no families to speak of. The sort of people no one would miss."

The tension in the room is almost audible itself, a low, resonant note that rings deep within the bone.

"You tested the Infection on people...?"

"Yes. What we did was despicable. I hated it. I hated watching new symptoms mutate and batch after batch of test subjects dying a cruel and unusual death." 

"But you kept doing it."

"I did. I rationalised it with the notion that if it wasn't me, then it would be someone else. Some of my colleagues were... obsessed with the human suffering that the pathogen caused. I thought that at least if I stayed, I could make the most of the data and end the experiment quickly. I wouldn't drag out the cruelty any longer than necessary."

"And who decides what cruelty is necessary? The M.O.D? You?"

A sob pierces the heavy room.

"I... I know! I've done unforgivable things. And it became too much to bear. When I realised that certain subjects weren't responding to the Infection, I told my supervisor. I thought he'd let them go. But he shot them instead. So the next time a subject didn't respond, I kept it secret. I gave him minor flu-like symptoms to pretend like he was responding, while I conducted my own tests. We got to know each other quite well as I did this. His name was Samuel."

The words are dreamy now, less focussed on the present and more on a moment long since disappeared; a passing cloud.

"My supervisor noticed my experiments, of course. He told me I could never tell anyone about the natural immunity some people exhibited. The M.O.D wouldn't pay for a pathogen which wasn't foolproof, but we couldn't afford to throw out our research and start anew. And he was already tired of my questioning his authority. He ordered me to shoot Samuel, to prove my loyalty. So I took Samuel outside and I... I let him go."

She finishes with a steady exhale.

"My supervisor found out. So he made me a test subject. I was infected as retribution for my betrayal. But the next day, Samuel came back with an armed gang. I didn't realise that he had such strong underworld connections, but I suppose he was a prisoner with an eighty-eight-year sentence before he was a test subject. He broke me out. He broke all the patients out. Immune or otherwise."

"Are you... are you immune then?"

"Yes, although I didn't know it at the time. Andrea - my guard - is too. As are zero point six per cent of the population. But the Infection is highly contagious by design. Just the small handful of patients that escaped were enough to spread the Infection to the rest of the UK. And then the world."

The seconds inch by slowly, a single glob of water dripping from a tap.

"So what's the room with all the TVs for? Propaganda?"

"Cye was right - biological warfare is a war crime. By the time the UN realised that the pathogen was genetically engineered, it was too late for us. They decided to impose isolation on the UK as punishment. Leave us to mire in our own creation while they attempt to find a solution for everyone else we harmed."

"So the rest of the world..."

"Is still mostly dead. The Infection did kill over three-quarters of the world's population. But our government didn't want to admit to the people that they were responsible for it. So they recorded propaganda, made it seem like everyone else closed their borders first. Then the rich and the powerful have their own private havens, while the rest of us get to stay here and die."

"...So why even go to the effort of giving me a biohazard tag? What's the point in not taking me to a Sanctuary with everyone else?"

Another deep, regretful sigh.

"The Sanctuaries aren't a safe haven. They're where... they're where people go to die. To die a humane death, instead of succumbing to the Infection. They use your medical records to try and find anyone with natural immunity. You're branded so that you're left alone. Everyone else is... well."

Someone releases a half-chewed sob.

"Cam's dad got evacuated to a Sanctuary. So did my family."

The words are sharp and pointed, a thin and deadly sword.

"I'm so sorry."

"What... what happened to Samuel?"

The doctor hesitates, surprised by the question.

"He left for Europe. He contacts me still, keeps me updated. Apparently, they're developing a vaccine. You should go to him, Cameron. I can arrange passage. You've been lucky so far, but who knows when that luck will run out? I can give you a respirator to keep you safe for the journey."

"Why haven't you left?"

A melancholy laugh escapes but quickly falls flat, a butterfly with holes in its wings.

"I think I've done enough damage. I stayed behind to continue my research. And maybe one day I'll notice whatever it is my colleagues in Europe have used to create their vaccine. The people of this country don't deserve to die for their government's crimes and my stupidity."

The world is motionless for a moment, a hallowed silence descending upon the trio. For a brief excerpt of time, no one can breathe.

"...Can I have a minute alone with Cye? I need a second to digest this."

"Of course. I'll be just outside. You're welcome to stay here if you want, but I really do think you should go. Don't be the next victim of powerful people's mistakes."

The footsteps shuffle slowly out of the room.

"Cye -"

"Are you okay, Cam?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm always fine."

A sceptical pause.

"You don't... you don't have to be okay all the time, you know. You just found out that your dad is..."

"Cye, my dad's been dead ever since my mam died."

"Right. So what are you... what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that it's total bullshit that we're the only people in the country who have this information. You heard what she said - zero point six per cent is almost four hundred thousand people. And that's just the ones who are naturally immune. I can't be the only lucky person who's avoided infection, right? They deserve to know the truth too."

"Yeah, agreed. But you need to get to Europe. So now what?"

The next exhale is resolute. Decisive. Determined.

"Do you think Dr Helen could fix my recording equipment?"

End of Security Tape #246-88A. Please insert a new tape to continue.