personal

Yesterday, I read a bunch of Kaleidotrope submissions, and I finished playing the very enjoyable Bioshock Infinite. Then I capped the day off with a couple of movies: Silver Linings Playbook, which I liked a whole lot, and John Dies at the End, which…well, it wasn’t terrible. (Although I do think Noel Murray is right in that it’s “meant to appeal to people who are either chemically altered or sleep-deprived.”)

Today I did the crossword puzzle and wrote this with my weekly writing group:

“Because he was angry,” Bill said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Jake. “He’s always angry. Every time I see him, I think he ought to be wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Hulk Smash.’”

“Is that some kind of pop-culture reference I’m supposed to get?” asked Bill.

“Well it’s not fashion advice, grandpa” said Jake. “I just think you should have told him. He’s going to find out eventually.”

“That’s if the Medusa Project even keeps running. Oversight has been asking difficult questions, and at this point, all the other funding is almost dried up.”

“When the hell were you going to tell me this?”

“When ‘almost’ turned into ‘all but.’ Don’t worry, you’re still more in the loop than Anderson.”

“I should hope so. He just has to get injected with the stuff, I’m the one who has to manufacture it. Which we can’t do without money, by the way.”

“I know. I’m not shutting you down.”

“Just shutting us out. Keeping secrets. First you don’t tell Anderson that his wife has died, because it might make him angry, and now you’re telling me the purse is all but empty.”

“Almost. It’s a subtle difference.”

“We’re not working with tuning forks and salad shooters down there, you know. If Medusa is going to work — ”

“You need money, I know. You need equipment and staff — ”

“And more of the compound.”

“Well there I can help you. There’s been another outbreak. And this time we’ve taken some of them live.”

“What? And you waited this long to tell me? When? How many?!”

“Seven. They’re en route, and will be here before nightfall. Apparently the outbreak happened someplace in Romania.”

“Well that’s hardly surprising. That’s not far from where we think Patient Zero was — wait, seven? And they let themselves be captured?”

“We sent in a strike team.”

“You mean you sent in Anderson. Damn it, Bill, the man’s a lot of things, but he is not field-tested yet.”

“The man’s a Marine.”

“Was a Marine. That’s before we started sticking needles in him, giving him a taste for the compound. We haven’t even moved him into the second phase of Medusa yet.”

“As of 1800 hours yesterday, you have. Frank Wilder administered the injection.”

“Whoa, whoa, Wilder? Tell me you did not let that quack into my lab while I was out. We don’t have any idea what phase two injections could mean long-term. You think Anderson is angry now? What happens if he goes full-on bloodsucker?”

“Wilder — and for that matter, your notes — suggest there’s only a small possibility of that. I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

“So it was your decision.”

“We’re running out of time, not just money. Besides Romania, we’re seeing scattered cases in Madrid, Beirut…Omaha. God, Jake, do you really think we’re going to be able to keep quiet on this much longer if we don’t start using our secret weapon?”

“And that’s why you didn’t tell Anderson anout his wife. Because he’s a weapon you don’t want going off in your face.”

“You didn’t see the footage from Romania. We’ll tell him — I’ll tell him — when we’re sure he’s stable. And if Medusa does get shut down…”

“He won’t be that easy to kill,” said Jake. “Not anymore. Even if he’s stable, he still might be a threat.”

“Well, we’ll decomission that bridge when we come to it.”

And that was the weekend. Well, except for the tomorrow part of it, anyway.