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arklaycounty2022-12-19 06:12 pm
retroviridae) wrote in arklaycounty2022-12-19 06:12 pm
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
[ 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. ]