Crimson Plague

Chapter X: Ramifications

In the refuge of his room, the Professor started to ponder over the next steps he should follow. He was laying in a bed that he didn't find very comfortable, and not at all familiar. The mattress was comfortable enough, the sheets were the softer he had ever had the chance of sleeping in and they were always clean due to the automated cleaning programs in the Villa, but he was not used to sleeping in there. He hadn't done it enough times to consider it his bed. During almost the whole time that he had spent in the Villa he had not slept in that room, nor in that bed. Only a couple of times at the beginning, but then it all turned into a wind-whirl, a race against the fatal fate lurking humanity, and there was no time even to sleep, least of all so far away from the working place.

Therefore, he had improvised a bed in the lab, the one in which he had awoken when he was brought back, so he had completely forgotten how it felt like to sleep in this one. It wasn't less relaxing and comforting for that; and, though there was a camera above each room's door, there was none where the beds were placed.

Each room had a small hall, only a small squared space with its walls painted all in white, as the rest of the Villa, and grand tiles of a soft velvety brown. It reminded him of the room in his first apartment, which he had shared with Sarah,  and Alan, three roommates in college times. Maybe it was because of the small size of it. This time the sitting room was equipped with a robust mahogany wooden desk, which included a personal computer and ended with a book shelf, which in his room was filled to the top, with more books piled one over the other in the upper shelve, for lack of space, and with no apparent order. His notebooks were on the floor, piled one over the other, under the desk.

The space was definitely not enough, but he had refused to move some of his belongings to another vacant room since the beginning, because he liked that feeling of being back at college. Maybe there was something inside that was making him feel old any other way.


Somewhat far from the desk, there was a black padded chair which was relatively comfortable, and next to it, a side table with empty coffee mugs and food wrappings, and personal effects. After the small sitting room, the camera could see up to the side hall wall that lead towards the bed to the right and the private bathroom to the left. There were no cameras in the bed areas or in the bathrooms. Those were the few places in which you could get some privacy inside the Villa, not running the risk of the big brother watching and someone analyzing your pensive gestures.


Indeed, there he could get away, relax and think, ponder on the events of the last few hours, get his ideas in order and try to make sense to what was happening.

After the noise he had heard in the greenhouse, and not having realized that it was not possible the automation in that place had preserved the supplies in the way they had been preserved, it was evident to him that he was not alone, and there was a percentage, however small, of chances that the person there with him was responsible for the explosion that had literary ended his life. He needed to confirm a few things to try to identify that presence he was cohabiting with: which was the room belonging to the camera not transmitting, the footage from the moments right after the transformations, the security feed from the last few years, what else?

He improvised a mental list of targets to unmask his companion, and while he was thinking how he could carry out each of these without raising suspicion, he realized it would be pointless, as if the person had had time to disconnect the cameras from the greenhouse and from their room to hide their presence, then, they would have also had time to delete the compromising videos, after his arrival. He would not find any answers there.


He needed to find another way. He remained thinking how he could find out who was there, and why they would be hiding from him, if they had not been responsible for the blast. But he couldn't come up with any explanation. If it wasn't someone with a hidden agenda, he could see no reason why they wouldn't make themselves visible to him.