January 30, 2007

• damned immune system

  One (long) day later: Central command is buzzing with activity. Everyone looks frazzled,
  and they are all red-faced and sweating. Papers are strewn everywhere, lights
  are urgently flashing at every console, and the Body Map on the big screen has
  LEDs lit up in almost every part, with high concentrations in the throat and
  sinuses. The diligent Lieutenant comes rushing in with a report.

  “Sir. You should see this report, sir. There are now incoming intel
  reports that the viral invaders have brought bacterial allies with them,
  sir.”

  “Damn it! Get an urgent message up to the consciousness. We need to get
  some outside reinforcements, or we’re going to be in trouble.”

  “Already sent, sir. Their response was that negotiations cannot be made on
  weekends, due to the allies’ protocols, sir.”

  “Send them another message. Damn the protocols, this is URGENT. We need
  backup NOW.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Five hours later, our lieutenant carefully returns to his commander with a
  report.
  “Sir, we have a report back from the consciousness. We attempted to
  negotiate with a new ally, but they accused us of faking our intelligence
  regarding the bacterial invaders. They’re refusing to send us any antibiotic
  reinforcements. We’re going to have to train our phages to fight the invaders,
  sir.”

  The commander freaks out. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?! We
  are dangerously low on recruits AND supplies! Don’t you have any GOOD news for
  me, lieutenant?!”

  “Sir, yes I do, sir. The consciousness has promised to expend as little
  energy as possible on nonessential functions. It has also increased deliveries
  of vital supplies, increased temperature levels to specific areas of need to
  help the lymph flow a little better, and, if we can’t go it alone, will open
  diplomatic channels with our other allies on Friday Afternoon. Oh, and one more
  thing: If the intel reports about the bacterial invasion can be proven true,
  our biggest allied nation will enforce sanctions on the ones that refused to
  help us in our time of need. Sir.”

  The commander collapses into a chair, his head in his hands. All around, the
  battle rages just outside the walls of central command; sounds of ruptured
  cells, shattered viruses, and zooming supply trucks are barely muffled by the
  thin layer of protection. The camera slowly pulls backwards, then fades to
  black.

  -J
  

  • 11:11 pm
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