The Neverending Nightmare

my works? they are many. but they're not why we're both here. why we're both writers.

shadow, I know full well you are a writer. if I may be so bold, I'd like to share one of my personal works.

assuming your permission, I will continue.

* given an eternity, what could've happened to us?*

I saw a reality last night. one full of waking nightmares, of dreams given over to kill off the world.

it was of an outbreak. Of a dream the Builder gave me. you see, to me, the Builder is an artist, one that is not afraid of hard lines, of hard realities where the entire world kills itself so they may rebuild it into a better world.

and this reality I saw was not ours. it was more of a warning. I knew fully in advance that I would die. I knew fully in advance it would be at my own hand.

what I did not realize was it would be, ultimately, my choice.

* the Builder's reality*

the two scientists are working late at night. they always are. one, a woman who has greying hair yet is only in her forties, is bent over a microscope, watching as a single cell, like that of a microbe yet with the reproduction of a virus, eating a whole host of smaller viruses, using everything around it as food as she watches a amazing degree of felxability forcing it to adapt, to hunt and kill everything in front of it. she will remember remarking that it was like a learning computer given a directive higher than to learn. it was designed to kill. and this computer will exist as is, or it will not exist at all.

three minutes after she started the experiment, and its swallowed all of its food, hungry for more.

she recieves a tap on the shoulder by the other scientist, wo is holding another wave of samples, human antibodies. she frowns, and then says "are you sure?" he nods, saying simply "you know full well if we don't produce results, they'll kill the program. we can't let that happen." she scowls, but doesn't object as he puts the antibodies in the cells dish. she then bends over the microscope, watching carefully even though she's already got a mark on the bridge of her nose from staring at it so long.

except something unexpected happens. the group of cells, now untrackable and wild, attack the antibodies. a few die, fading as the cells don't eat, as she knew they wouldn't. they kill all their food before eating. and so, as she wtahces them fight the antibodies, surprisingly, have no effective defense. that is disturbing, in and of itself. I will not explain why, but a biologist knows that the immune system should be able to counter this.

so, when they're all dead or dying, she turns to the feeding that is bound to happen. except it doesn't. they all hungrily wriggle around, looking for more food as the antibodies suddenly start moving again. she blinks and watches as the cells go around looking for food, acting hungry.

she pulls away from the microscope, her eyes wide and alert as she says "we found something. something big. what the hell is this?" the scientist frowns and checks the clipboard. he smirks as he sees the name "Animatis Messorem. Animate Reaper." she blinks, someone must've known what this would do.

she's left wondering why it was Animate Reaper instead of Animate Dead.

but, she'll never know. and the world? it'll know of this Virus. it's why the entire world will be dead on the inside of thirteen years.

and what'll they know it by? the Doomsday Virus.

* Given this Reality*

the patient was really willing. he thought he would be given a small sample of a potentially dangerous virus, which would most likely not kill him, but it would leave him changed. this character was called Wattson, as he had a father who apparently didn't care for logic and just named him after his favorite character in a show. it may have been because he was partially drunk at the time.

I'll begin this story in first person, so bear with me for anyone new to my works.

I wake up slowly. it's npt painful, which is surprising, as I get the feeling I've been in pain a long time. instead, it feels... like my body isn't mine. I'm on a bed, in a hospital, in my own room, doctors rushing around as two police are standing, out of arms reach but ready, hands on guns. when they see I'm awake they quickly pull back, alerting everyone to my state.

I automatically lift my hands to my eyes, staring at myself. my hands are normal, no specific difference between them as I (WIP)