And Yet...

It's been back to the same old, hum drum pattern from before the Incident. Up every morning, back to work after breakfast with Belle, same research, same meaningless chatter at the lunch table, and same old white board I put at the back of the room with the big questions: Why did this happen? Where did it come from? How do we end it, once and for all?. The spaces for the answers remain as blank as they've always been.

And yet.

Ah, yes, a wonderful "yet" in the midst of the same old hum drum. Because, you see, now I have John Smith. And every day this...thing is growing. He makes me smile, even when he's not around. Just thinking about him makes this strange sensation bloom through my body. It's as if the bone-breaking agony that my heart presses against the walls of my chest when I think about my brother and mother and aunt has turned itself inside out. And while the bloom of elation is always a short spark, never staying longer than an instant, it sends me enough energy to get me through the rest of the day til we see each other.

Sometimes I think he is on to something, like when he talks about the correlations he's found between certain minerals in some certain places to one another, or when he shows me how my idea could be so easily explained under his circumstances. Other times I think he might be insane, like when he and Belle are having conversations and he tells her about the dreams he has about the possible people who might exist and he might be discovering, about the worlds he imagines they may be from with red mountains and orange skies. But Belle loves the stories, and honestly so do I. He has this kind of story-teller's charm; he's really quite good at it. It doesn't hurt that I'm so attracted to him...

I can't help myself lately, I just get to thinking about him and go on and on. Hopefully this feeling lasts. Hopefully nothing bad happens to him...

Anyway, there's really nothing big going on, besides that. Nobody seems to be making much big progress, we're all just working on... nothing. When you've already looked at every possible answer, it can be difficult to revise the question any longer.


All about Z-stalkers and Art

I took that last picture while I was in the lab our first day back. When I had left, I had three, fairly functional Infecteds, still just barely moving their eyes they were so fresh. The boys who had brought them and sold them to me were maybe fifteen, but the dark circles under their eyes belied their true age. Three brothers, all in early to mid teens, who snatched up straggling infected and sold them to researchers like me. Z-stalkers is the name people like that call themselves. They call the infected before turning ZPlus-es and after turning just Z. As in zombie. Which is exactly what the government didn't want people to call them. But, you know how it goes. Can't force the horse to drink, right?

So anyway, these Z-stalkers claimed that they knew how to tell when you had a strong Z+ or a weak one. They said strong Z+'s can hold off the virus and weak ones turned faster (which is medically true, if you have type O blood, for some reason you are born able to produce the antibody, though even some O's can be weak in this sense, so it's really tricky to be able to see it before either a blood test or their turning) and they said that they only killed weak Z+'s so they were only going to sell me the "strong shit."

What I got were two strong ones and a weakling, of course the time difference is really only a span of about 4 days, it was enough for the weak one to turn with enough time to kill the other two who were still just suffering the disease. So when I got home, the weakling was turned, and hungry, and pissed. Which meant we needed the whole team to exterminate her. Luckily she wasn't strong enough anymore to break through the glass. That would have been a shitty night in Sterile.

Well, I got the picture of her before they came in and put her out. I took pictures of the destroyed ones, too. She had cleaned their bones pretty well, so I kept them to study, and took pictures just for some kind of recordable documentation of the event for my journals. And I took that photo because, well, I don't know, I guess I just needed to capture that moment. My mother always used to call herself an artist, and for many years I thought I was, too, but when my brother died, I started having trouble thinking of anything beautiful, and then of anything at all besides work, so I gave up on art. Maybe something in my life is bringing back that spark to create and capture the world around me? Belle, maybe, because I care so much for her, like I've got a little sister, a sibling again. Or perhaps John, because he cares so much for me, and my emotional wellbeing...?