as much as possible, even though he knew that this, in itself, probably reinforced their suspicions. Eventually, he just gave up caring what they thought, and he accepted that he and his family would never get along. Now, on the brink of his greatest victory, he pauses to imagine what they'd all think if they could see him now, if they knew that he would be the man who'd bring the world to its knees and then force it to be reborn in a powerful new form.
Coughing again, he looks at his hand and sees a few specks of blood. He'd never expected to be affected like this, but he's still sure that the virus won't kill him. After all, viruses don't tend to cannibalize their own kind. He figures the virus is adapting and learning, and that it'll take a little while before it recognizes its master. In a day or two, his symptoms will clear up, just as everyone else is getting worse and worse, and that's how he'll finally be certain that his plan has worked. He's already looking forward to the moment of victory, and he knows it'll taste all the sweeter if it comes after a period of suffering. Letting out another cough, he can't help but laugh as he thinks of the virus spreading across the world, carrying its unique genetic make-up everywhere it goes. Never before, in the history of mankind, has such an empire been built; never before, he reasons, has one man been in control of such a powerful army. Most other would-be rulers tried to gather men to fight for them; Joseph, on the other hand, came up with a much better idea, and he's seeing the fruits of his work right now. They're everywhere.
He watches as the children turn and head inside. He hopes that their last night of life will be something particularly enjoyable, although he figures that they'll just waste their time with video games and other pointless activities. He knows, deep down, that while he might enjoy pretending that these children would grow up to be something great, the reality is that they'd most likely drift through life on a cloud of distaste and boredom. Although he's keen not to award himself too many accolades, he can't help but feel that in a way he's improving the world by ridding it of all these pointless people. He knows that his victims will never see it that way, but he remains convinced that eventually, after a few weeks, maybe a month or two, the transformation will be complete. Once the main phase is over, he'll be able to pick off the survivors, and then he'll be able to step back and admire his proud new world.
Turning from the window, he walks slowly across the gloomy apartment, stopping eventually to look at the silent TV screen. A news show is reporting on some kind of car crash on the interstate, and for a moment Joseph is dazzled by the images. The camera shows twisted metal frames being lifted by cranes, while police and fire officers stand around. There are a few ambulances parked nearby, and a strap-line along the bottom of the screen notes that three people have already died in the accident while another two have been taken to hospital. Seconds later, the image changes to become a shot of the news anchor, and Joseph leans closer to the TV, examining the pixels that constitute the man's mouth. Slowly, almost without thinking about what he's doing, Joseph starts to mouth the words he imagines the news anchor saying. Placing his eye as close to the screen as possible, he eventually sees the pixels for what they really are: little dancing patches of light, like a virus heaving and throbbing as it changes and grows. Eventually, a smile starts to spread across Joseph's face.
Day Eleven
Prologue
He's dying now, and he knows it.
The television is still on full volume, its picture lighting up the room with patterns and shadows that change every few seconds. Joseph would like to turn the damn thing off, but he lacks the energy. All he can do is remain on the sofa and wait for the end. He finds it somewhat ironic that his final moments should be
Coughing again, he looks at his hand and sees a few specks of blood. He'd never expected to be affected like this, but he's still sure that the virus won't kill him. After all, viruses don't tend to cannibalize their own kind. He figures the virus is adapting and learning, and that it'll take a little while before it recognizes its master. In a day or two, his symptoms will clear up, just as everyone else is getting worse and worse, and that's how he'll finally be certain that his plan has worked. He's already looking forward to the moment of victory, and he knows it'll taste all the sweeter if it comes after a period of suffering. Letting out another cough, he can't help but laugh as he thinks of the virus spreading across the world, carrying its unique genetic make-up everywhere it goes. Never before, in the history of mankind, has such an empire been built; never before, he reasons, has one man been in control of such a powerful army. Most other would-be rulers tried to gather men to fight for them; Joseph, on the other hand, came up with a much better idea, and he's seeing the fruits of his work right now. They're everywhere.
He watches as the children turn and head inside. He hopes that their last night of life will be something particularly enjoyable, although he figures that they'll just waste their time with video games and other pointless activities. He knows, deep down, that while he might enjoy pretending that these children would grow up to be something great, the reality is that they'd most likely drift through life on a cloud of distaste and boredom. Although he's keen not to award himself too many accolades, he can't help but feel that in a way he's improving the world by ridding it of all these pointless people. He knows that his victims will never see it that way, but he remains convinced that eventually, after a few weeks, maybe a month or two, the transformation will be complete. Once the main phase is over, he'll be able to pick off the survivors, and then he'll be able to step back and admire his proud new world.
Turning from the window, he walks slowly across the gloomy apartment, stopping eventually to look at the silent TV screen. A news show is reporting on some kind of car crash on the interstate, and for a moment Joseph is dazzled by the images. The camera shows twisted metal frames being lifted by cranes, while police and fire officers stand around. There are a few ambulances parked nearby, and a strap-line along the bottom of the screen notes that three people have already died in the accident while another two have been taken to hospital. Seconds later, the image changes to become a shot of the news anchor, and Joseph leans closer to the TV, examining the pixels that constitute the man's mouth. Slowly, almost without thinking about what he's doing, Joseph starts to mouth the words he imagines the news anchor saying. Placing his eye as close to the screen as possible, he eventually sees the pixels for what they really are: little dancing patches of light, like a virus heaving and throbbing as it changes and grows. Eventually, a smile starts to spread across Joseph's face.
Day Eleven
Prologue
He's dying now, and he knows it.
The television is still on full volume, its picture lighting up the room with patterns and shadows that change every few seconds. Joseph would like to turn the damn thing off, but he lacks the energy. All he can do is remain on the sofa and wait for the end. He finds it somewhat ironic that his final moments should be
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