Maurane
23 lines
4.4 KiB
Plaintext
23 lines
4.4 KiB
Plaintext
~ start
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A bleak, stern conference room, nestled in a research facility's subterranean network, probably buried deep somewhere underneath French fields of wheat and corn. Praise be the Republic for its generous funding.
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A handful of people sitting nervously around the table. 2-weeks trained psychiatrist wannabes, just like me. I couldn't help but wonder what they came down here for. A dash of fame ? Money ? Trying to gloriously save our kind ? Or perhaps desperately seeking some smidge of meaning in all of this ?
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I wouldn't remember any of their faces. I didn't want to. We were doomed people after all, fated to sit behind government-issued desks, sifting through waves of Abnormals until Death did us part. I didn't make eye contact with any of them, nor did they try to with me.
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Standing upright at the end of the table, the Government Orator was speaking in a composed, almost rhythmic tone, his suave discourse slithering like a honey-smudged snake across the room. Every polished sentence a vital advice, every glib word a masked threat. All ears and eyes were fixated on him, trying to perceive every last speck of information.
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Government Orator: As of today, Abnormality's pathophysiological mechanism has not yet been proven to have an infectious etiology. As such, psychiatry remains at the forefront of medical research against this pandemic.
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Government Orator: Abnormality's psychiatric semiology was exceedingly arduous to apprehend, even for trained professionals. You are not expected to be qualified.
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Government Orator: The brief training imparted to you on our lawgivers' behalf was at best an inadequate waste of the Republic's spending, and at worst an impetus towards your future demise. Though I may not offer you the expertise our senior colleagues wielded, listen closely, for the limited knowledge we gathered until now unveiled the Abnormality Rules.
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Government Orator: 1- [color=darkred]Patients brought to you for screening may either be "Commons"[/color], as in people suffering from commonly known psychiatric illnesses,[color=darkred] or be Abnormals[/color].
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Government Orator: 2- [color=darkred]Abnormals can and will try to mimic Commons' appearances, actions and speech patterns.[/color] Whether this behaviour stems from mere survival instinct or from an underlying motive has yet to be ascertained.
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Government Orator: 3- [color=darkred]An Abnormal will always exhibit signs of its true nature when submitted to thorough assessment.[/color] The underlying cause remains unclear. Inability to fully mimic human behaviour is the currently leading hypothesis.
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Government Orator: 4- [color=darkred]Abnormals do not possess emotional faculties, although they will try to mimic them.[/color] The very concept of emotions is utterly alien to an Abnormal, regardless of its mimicking ability. Conversely, the severity of a psychiatric condition does not and cannot negate a Common's fundamental humanity, and therefore innate capacity to exhibit genuine displays of emotions.
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Government Orator: 5- [color=darkred]Abnormals violate the laws of Reality.[/color] If you notice anything that cannot be comprehended or explained by human knowledge, immediately take appropriate action according to protocol.
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Government Orator: 6- As a final advice, follow your instinct. If something, anything [color=darkred]feels unnervingly wrong[/color] about a patient, further investigation is highly likely to be warranted.
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Government Orator: As you all know, containment protocol's safety rules forbid you to leave the premises of this level for the duration of your work here. You have been assigned rooms to rest in between shifts. A meeting shall be held here every morning to optimize coordination and transmit information.
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Government Orator: Good luck, "doctors". The Republic is proud of you.
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Small notebooks were swiftly distributed around the table. Printed on the first pages were the Abnormality Rules, first verbally proclaimed to us, and now solemnly etched with ink. To read and reread ad nauseam until seared into one's memory.
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I was the first to stand up and leave the room, brimming with a restless blend of nervous anticipation and unspoken fear.
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I could still turn back and leave. I should. A part of me was screaming for it. But my legs kept on mechanically walking down the underground hallway, leading me to my assigned screening desk.
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It was too late. I already knew too much, and was worth too little. Or so I told myself.
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=> END |