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retroviridae) wrote in
arklaycounty2022-12-19 06:12 pm
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very sick girl
31 JULY, 1978.
[ The heat and humidity was almost as bad as it had been in New York, maybe as bad, considering the limited air conditioning capabilities of this place. The house in Ithaca hadn't had air conditioning, and upstairs, the case seemed to be the same here. Downstairs, of course, the temperature was kept at a fairly regulated 22 degrees Celsius, but the architects of the Spencer Mansion seemed to have had a perhaps inappropriate amount of faith in the native climate of Colorado.
As it was, William Birkin, newly appointed co-Chief Researcher of the Arklay Research Facility, lay on his back atop his still-made bed in white undershirt and boxers, holding the latest update on the Ebola outbreak in Zaire a few inches above his face as he read. The ongoing trill of the cicadas in the forest surrounding them on all four sides was louder than he'd ever heard it, though the open bedroom window (non-optional in this weather) did nothing to muffle the sound.
There was so much to do here. The master seed stock of Ebolavirus had been waiting for him upon his arrival, as promised; there were the smaller projects he and Albert now oversaw, the ongoing effort to create a starter virus... and her. A live human specimen, seemingly comatose, her skin gray, her shackled hands inhumanly mangled. What was she?
Infected with the Progenitor virus, they were told. A miraculous thing. But who had she been, and where had she come from? Not that it mattered. They were Spencer's chosen elite. They had been trusted to lead this place, and entrusted with the knowledge of that.
And if they didn't succeed—that could be them, maybe. Not that failure had ever been an option or a possibility in his world.
They hadn't really had much of a chance to talk about it, at least amongst themselves, without the annoying new lab manager listening in as though it concerned him in the slightest. William set the paper to the side, sat up. Wesker's sleep schedule wasn't as bad as his, but he was liable to still be awake, unpacking his clothes and small number of personal possessions if nothing else.
Birkin pulled his jeans back on and stepped out into the hallway, barefoot. Tapped on the door with his knuckles. Lowly: ]
Al.
[ The heat and humidity was almost as bad as it had been in New York, maybe as bad, considering the limited air conditioning capabilities of this place. The house in Ithaca hadn't had air conditioning, and upstairs, the case seemed to be the same here. Downstairs, of course, the temperature was kept at a fairly regulated 22 degrees Celsius, but the architects of the Spencer Mansion seemed to have had a perhaps inappropriate amount of faith in the native climate of Colorado.
As it was, William Birkin, newly appointed co-Chief Researcher of the Arklay Research Facility, lay on his back atop his still-made bed in white undershirt and boxers, holding the latest update on the Ebola outbreak in Zaire a few inches above his face as he read. The ongoing trill of the cicadas in the forest surrounding them on all four sides was louder than he'd ever heard it, though the open bedroom window (non-optional in this weather) did nothing to muffle the sound.
There was so much to do here. The master seed stock of Ebolavirus had been waiting for him upon his arrival, as promised; there were the smaller projects he and Albert now oversaw, the ongoing effort to create a starter virus... and her. A live human specimen, seemingly comatose, her skin gray, her shackled hands inhumanly mangled. What was she?
Infected with the Progenitor virus, they were told. A miraculous thing. But who had she been, and where had she come from? Not that it mattered. They were Spencer's chosen elite. They had been trusted to lead this place, and entrusted with the knowledge of that.
And if they didn't succeed—that could be them, maybe. Not that failure had ever been an option or a possibility in his world.
They hadn't really had much of a chance to talk about it, at least amongst themselves, without the annoying new lab manager listening in as though it concerned him in the slightest. William set the paper to the side, sat up. Wesker's sleep schedule wasn't as bad as his, but he was liable to still be awake, unpacking his clothes and small number of personal possessions if nothing else.
Birkin pulled his jeans back on and stepped out into the hallway, barefoot. Tapped on the door with his knuckles. Lowly: ]
Al.
no subject
There's likely nothing of significance that we haven't seen. Umbrella likes to play its cards close to the vest, but we've already been in the trenches.
[ Maybe not as deep as they could go, but far enough. ]
Were you hoping for more?
no subject
[ William canted his head to the side, regarding the other newly appointed Chief of Research. ]
Aren't you?
[ The question was all but rhetorical—Albert was always thinking several steps ahead, and regardless of whether or not he said it, he was sure that his friend's thoughts had been similarly occupied since they'd seen the girl. How could they not be? ]
no subject
[ If Umbrella had been hiding something like Lisa Trevor, who knew what else they might have stashed away somewhere? But whatever that might be, he doubted it was here. ]
I've no doubt that there are more secrets somewhere, and after today's reveal, I'd be a failure as a scientist if I wasn't curious.
With all the strange locks and mechanisms Spencer had built into this place, we know that he's far too deep into his mystery novel fantasies to not be hiding more.
no subject
[ Very much so. The whole place felt kind of like one of the tombs in Indiana Jones, truth be told. Another pause. ]
We should investigate on our own sometime. Once they're watching us less closely.
no subject
When we've settled into a routine, we will. By that point our wandering shouldn't be seen as odd behavior.
[ And they would have a better idea of how to handle anything they might find. That would come with the familiarity of living and working here every day for a while. ]
no subject
He'd have to be patient, then. There was plenty for them to explore and research in the meantime, and before too long, they'd probably start overhearing things, too. Or at least Albert would—William wasn't interested in the affairs of others nearly enough to eavesdrop. He was here to work, to make a name for himself. Not to make friends with all of the average, underwhelming people they now oversaw. ]
Alright. In the meantime, I plan on getting started with the ebola project. I'll be in the lab at seven tomorrow morning. Are you going right in, or are you going to look around?
[ Seven left a very small window of time for him to sleep between now and going downstairs for breakfast, but William had never needed much sleep, at least not when he was dealing with something particularly exciting. ]
no subject
I'll be there at seven sharp. I'm as eager to get started as you are.
[ A cup of coffee or two would perk him right up. ]
If we take a lunch break [ doubtful, but anything was possible ] we can both have a look around then.
no subject
[ It was the first time he'd actually been able to work with the virus from Zaire, not just read about it in journal articles written by people with the privilege of being there. William was uninterested, of course, in the degree of human suffering attached to these reports; that was frankly none of his concern. The virus, impartial and inhuman, was. ]
But remind me. If things come to a natural stop I'll join you. ...We can make it look like an inspection.
no subject
[ They could both be terrible about eating properly when they were focused. Foregoing meals and sleep were small sacrifices for progress.
It was rare for Wesker to not notice the time. He just didn't always care. ]
If we're busy, our inspection can easily wait.
no subject
[ William didn't like the idea that anything might have been hidden from him, and perhaps common sense would have told him that if the lab manager had revealed something as grotesque as that thing in the basement, there wasn't much else that would be left to show. But he was curious, like any scientist, and somehow the answer just seemed too... easy. ]
We'll make time for it.
[ Something considerably easier for him when his friend was involved. He enjoyed Al's presence, enough so to actively seek his company out, a first for William Birkin. He never would have imagined that he'd be so content to share a title with someone, either, but then again, they hadn't known each other back then. ]
no subject
[ If William was so eager, he must have felt that this was very important. In that case, they could certainly make the time. It would be better for them to do this together, since this place was essentially theirs now. ]
If we decide to skip lunch, we can have a look around in the evening. Everyone here will need to get accustomed to the hours we keep anyway.
[ Which may or may not be a significant change. Not everyone had the work ethic of Wesker and Birkin. ]