Hook, Line & Sinker
October 15, 2012 § Leave a comment
Fourscore and seven years ago, the world turned to darkness. Utter and complete darkness. The government had ignored the signs; the people had ignored the signs. Nobody was to blame, but everybody was to blame. The list of pointed fingers was endless.
Pounding heart. Tunnel vision. Dr. Bryan’s lungs screamed for air as he waited for the thing to pass. He exhaled softly with his hand clasped to his mouth, but he was not soft enough. It stopped next to the table he was under, and he hugged his knees to his chest, his knuckles starkly white against the black handle of the scalpel in his hand.
Humanity’s greatest achievement had become its worst nightmare. No amount of backpedaling could reverse what had transpired over the past few months. There were only two possible solutions: to run or to hide, and each had remarkably low rates of survival.
The ship hurtled through the atmosphere with no concept of the planet’s space or time, much too fast for an approach vector. While the Planetary Guard’s docking bays could be calibrated for relativistic effects, it was clear that the pilot of this craft had no intention of landing safely. The commander gave the order for the space-time turrets to open fire, but it was already too late.
“My life’s work between my own two fingers,” I thought, examining the pill’s milky translucence under the fluorescent lighting. The countless nights in the lab; the many trials and many errors; the rat bites pockmarking my fingers – all of these had culminated into my dream and ambition: a way to make man…perfect.
Hadley Wilson, B6