Fantasy Totum revolutum

[kevintheradioguy]

"I know you didn't. You were called here as a counter force to see what happens.", the dreamy man responded, leaning on the table. "The Judge... yes, that must've been him who did that. He rules this city, he is the one to call the shots, he is experimenting on us. Making the whole town a machine, a grinder, to test people an build... what? A superhuman? A utopia? That's my theory anyway."

"Your theory is bullshit.", grumbled another one of the clerks. He didn't' seem to even notice the doctor standing right there. As if, too, in trance. And the home-y sounds of this place, it's half-darkness, and tallness, and overall spirit was slowly entrancing Noah as well. There was something weird in this place, but not entirely wrong. It was like an inspirationless wave of creativity that monks experiences painting ikons for temples. His father used to say that inspiration was passion, and passion instead of love was a dirty, sinful thing. So you never could paint anything godly while being devoured by sin. "It's all the polyhedron. Look at that thing! It defies the laws of gravity, it shouldn't exist." he referred to a giant kite-like structure Noah never managed to see up-close. "Gods are punishing us for creating such a tower! i know it, because I know of another law-defying tower mankind built, and it ended poorly. I's sacrilage! Right, doctor?"

"I think we agree on one thing.", mumbled the last clerk. "If this was any other town, there would be no epidemic. Or it'd be something we know of. Cholera. Plague. Tuberculosis. Pox. Not this. Not this."

 

[Featherstone]

The fleeting memory of his father's voice left a small frown on Noah's face; as long as he lived, and as many years as he spent away from the man, he wasn't sure he'd ever stop hearing his voice. Noah's gaze fell to his watch, a faint agitation starting to build in the back of his head. It felt like he was in a room of sleepwalkers and the lullaby of the tapping and the clocks was drawing him into it. He'd barely been awake for an hour, if that, and already, he felt tired for it. Going on about sacrilege and divinity as if it was a real explanation for suffering only served to increase his annoyance--there didn't have to be a God for terrible, unthinkable things to happen. Mankind and Mother Nature had the heinous worked out perfectly well on their own.

Noah didn't bother correcting the clerks this time. It wasn't like they were hearing him, no matter how flawed their logic was. Watching them run in circles with each other was like seeing a dog chase its own tail in the belief it could catch it and, if it did, it'd somehow be satisfied. "Hey," he attempted, this time reaching out to snap his fingers under the first clerk's nose to get his attention. "Where. Is. The. Judge."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The clerk didn't flinch or startle. He slowly followed Noah's fingers with his eyes, taken hold of by apathy. "The Judge. Yes, the Judge. He is to blame. It is his idea - the doctor agrees. He just wants his experiment to succeed.", his comrades shook their heads, seemingly disagreeing. "I don't think we should play his game, though. It's best not to. I'm tired of being an object of some test, a useless gear in a machine made to crush such gears. I'm so tired of this.", he closed his eyes, almost dozing off. "And I don't know... if I have to survive to fault his plan, or die. I think it's the latter. He wants to reach this goodhood of theirs. Like his brother did. Maybe we just need to give up. Maybe we need to die for it all to be over."

 

[Featherstone]

This was useless. Completely. Utterly. Whatever had gotten a hold of them, there was no snapping them into good sense. Whatever this man thought the Judge wanted or his brother had done was irrelevant, and Noah finally gave up his attempts at getting information. He stood for a moment, eyeing his other options. Going back through the front door was a sure way to get hurt, and motley of sounds behind the three others was confusing at best. Tapping, bubbling, a piano, all through the steady metronome tick-tick-tick of the clocks. After a minute's hesitation, Noah entered the room to his right, from which he heard piano--presumably, he reasoned, someone would be playing the instrument, and they might be more cooperative than the conspiracy clerks.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

As soon as Noah entered, the sounds of music stopped. He was in a small bedroom, all draped red, with a small piano in the corner. The one that only the Judge's niece knew how to play. A niece that, seemingly going insane, decided she alone can stop the infection, and driven by some unseen force disappeared in the tall steppe grass. No one had seen her since, and Noah's rational mind said that she died of thirst, being away for five days now. Was she back? How did she know he was getting closer? Was this a hallucination? Did he imagine it? Was this, indeed, fever? Or was it something else? After all, her father - the Judge's brother - died two days ago, and his house was sealed like a tomb. Noah walked past it every day, and every day, accompanied by steps, he saw a hunched figure of that man pacing around the room on the top floor, thinking about something. Yet, Noah himself examined the body, and declared the man dead. They buried him!

Caine houses were weird. They were weird indeed. Haunted by something. Maybe this had to do with immortality they spoke of, maybe it was something else, something magical.

 

[Featherstone]

The recollection of the niece brought back the orderly's words from earlier, about some miracle girl that could supposedly cure the plague. Had she come back? He found his feet moving over the floor, drawing him to the middle of it; ankles turning, drawing him in a slow circle, eyes meandering over the red. It felt like a dream. The sounds, the silhouettes, the birds, none of it made a speck of sense. He opted not to linger on this thought for too long. The mere contemplation of his twisted reality left the walls closing in and the air growing thin. He wasn't going crazy, wasn't sick, couldn't be. Hallucinations didn't come alone for sane people, for physically ill people.

He repressed as shiver and went back the way he'd come. He didn't address any of the clerks when he passed through, just picked the closest of the other two doors to go through. His stride was swift and purposeful. He just needed to find Gregory Caine.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The movements were hard at this point. Noah was being dragged into staleness and apathy like the clerks did, who still slowly, lazily talked among themselves in quiet tones. They seemed to have an argument, but it was slow, and cold, dragging out like thick glue between them. Something was wrong here, so terribly, terribly wrong. How could anyone live in a place like this?

He found the judge - the last from his family - standing in a dark room. The curtains were shut asides for a small slit that allowed just enough light into the room to light up the painting lying on the desk in front of him, leaning slightly over the book stand. it was unclear if the Judge has been looking outside, or at the painted town - just like the one outside - in deep thought. A small, skinny shadow in the room, with white, empty yes, clearly in deep thought. Like everybody in this house were.

 

[Featherstone]

Some places just felt wrong. Places where people had died sometimes, or his father's house. It was as if there was something in the air that stopped the minute one stepped out of the door. A thick, suffocating sort of atmosphere, that brought on lethargy or unshakable, ambient fear, but this place--this house--it was worse than any of the other places that Noah had been before. It drew him in like a siren's song, dragging him closer and closer to the water, and he found himself in a strange dichotomy of being made simultaneously torpid and anxious by its effect.

Noah closed the door behind him and approached the Judge, only to stall a few feet away and clear his throat to announce his presence.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The man's head snapped up. The grey man only slightly turned his indiscernible features to the sound, seemingly catching Noah in his peripheral vision. "Ah, professor.", he greeted in a low, dragging voice that was the closest to honey that a sound could be. "I dropped by your place at dawn to tell you about my plans, but your young assistant insisted I didn't disturb you. I judged it'd be better to let you rest. The catastrophe has already struck, and you needed all he strength you could master to face the trials of today." He spoke quietly, solemnly. As if he was weighting every word, but at the same time, was not entirely there, being lost in his own thoughts, unable to fully get out, and just screaming from a labyrinth of his mind - but Noah only heard the echoes.

 

[Featherstone]

"What catastrophe?" he asked, leaving hardly a second between Caine's speech and his own. He didn't sound angry, but there was a heavy haste to his tone, the intensity making it border on a demand. "Why did you declare me dead and lift the quarantine? When did they break out of the Cathedral? Are you aware of the rumors about a girl in the Dusk District that's supposedly a miracle worker?"

Where the Judge was slow and somber, Noah reacted with fervor glazed with desperation. The questions that had been building up since his awakening poured from his lips in quick succession. It was faster than any man could hope to answer, much less someone who moved at half-speed like the Judge was, but they were out of his mouth before he realized that. He clapped his mouth shut, then, and pulled himself back slightly. Straightened, put his hands into his pockets, abashedly glanced away. "My apologies. I shouldn't be so terse. I've been trying to make sense of chaos all morning," Noah amended, only then retreating into silence.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

To everything Noah had spoken, the Judge only made one slow nod of his head. Or maybe that was the trick of the light? "I know.", he replied, seemingly undisturbed by Noah's outburst, as well as an apology. "I am the Judge. It wasn't myself who gave that name - rather, people. And it is commonly agreed that I possess a certain level of intelligence.", he sighed.

Gergory wasn't boasting, there was some bitter irony in his tone as he spoke. "It is plain to me that you;re on the verge of tearing me into pieces. Still your wrath, at least, for now. A great Anthean once said, 'strike, if you will, but hear'.", though the man, being more of an office worker, was much smaller than Noah - more so in girth than height - he didn't seem to be overly afraid of a younger, angrier man with better physical prowess. The Judge was at ease, even if sounded lost.

 

[Featherstone]

Guilt replaced Noah's vehemence when he was asked, politely, to calm himself. He knew too well that his temper got the better of him more often than was right. Caine was likely only doing his best, and had reasons that Noah didn't understand for his actions: coming after him for it, after it was done, would be neither useful nor constructive. The tension carved into every muscle of Noah's posture relaxed with a soft exhalation.

"Of course," he conceded, quieter now. "Please, speak."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Slowly, the Judge nodded. "I have been thinking a lot about this plague we have, and realised we have been looking at it the wrong way. Besides biology, there are other sciences in the world, and they seem to be at play here. Unfortunately, they don't teach them to medical professionals, but I suppose the amount of weight on their shoulders already is enough not to add more.

A plague is just a type of death to you, professor. But seeing it gnaw at my city, I realised it is not. It's not entirely that. It's an exam, of sorts, and you cannot run away from exams forever. Sooner or later, you must take them." His eyes returned to the painting for a few moments. "I have built this town, professor. A very unusual town, I must admit. Streets, houses, the imponderable tower, my crowning achievement. And I have built it just the way I envisioned it. Don't even for a minute doubt that I don't care for it. Nothing in the world is more important to me than this place. I never had any children but this town. And towns are often like people: some are common, plain, grey, content so to speak. Others full of wonder, and potential, and prevail their nature. They grow. They reach the sky. But never without trial." The Judge's voice flowed, changing pitch, and it was lulling Noah a little, almost as if he was sung a lullaby. Or listened to a quiet, distorted radio voice that hypnotised him with its eeriness.

"This plague isn't hitting people specifically, it's hitting my town. Some say it's God's punishment for trying to reach the skies, but it is not. It's just a trial. An exam. To see if the town will stand. If it'll survive. Punishment is final, and an exam has to be passed. Then, we can move forward. I understand that letting people die is dreadfully cruel, but the thing we were trying to build, this impossible, immortal utopia, can only be erected if those who built it pass the exam of death. This utopia is achieved not through fighting - you of all people must understand there's no happiness in battles. No, passing it not fighting, not denying it like you do, but rather...", his brows furrowed. He was looking for a correct word to use.

 

[Featherstone]

An exam? The bird's voice echoed in Noah's ears: Are you ready to die? It almost felt like the Judge was saying the same thing. As if accepting death was the only way to be rid of it, but Noah had spent far too long fighting to live to be swayed so quickly. He rested his shoulder against the wall, weight slumping back while Caine went on. These people made no sense. On what basis did he come to this belief except for superstition so similar to the clerks' outside? And what was his aversion to answering the actual questions posed? Noah fought so hard to preserve life here and everyone around him seemed to work against him. He didn't understand why.

"I don't understand why you all seem so keen on opening the doors to death," he stated, and his tone was almost bitter, but tiredness weighed on each syllable more than spite did. It was as much from the strange, calming quality of this place as it was the genuine exhaustion. One night's sleep, it seemed, didn't replace all those lost--and not a very restful sleep at that. "Even if it is as you say, what exam is passed through idle passivity? If epidemics like this, if diseases and infections, came as a trial that were to be survived through acceptance, then every past one that has been rendered obsolete by vaccination and medicine and lives wouldn't be conquered. Three years ago, a cure for typhoid was found. Four years, the Blue Death. Last year, for smallpox. That is the advancement of science, Mr. Caine, and at every turn it proves itself again and again to be all-powerful." Carter's words came through Noah's lips without a second thought or slight hesitation. "We don't fight battles because fighting is pleasant, we fight them so that we can triumph; there doesn't have to be happiness in the journey, if the destination is worth the sacrifice--and survival is worth the sacrifice. I've come to this conclusion through studying history, through seeing the numbers in front of my eyes, from watching lives return from the brink of death at the hands of medicine and protocol--at the hands of mortal men, not those of a god. Where is the life that has been saved through a miracle, through bowing to omnipotence, but for in mythologies and fairy tales that are impossible to verify?"

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Many people today seemed to be accepting of dying and death in general, only a handful being defiant. Perhaps, this was for the fact they were surrounded by infectious waste all around, lost their friends and family, and just wanted everything to stop. Any way. And the path of self-destruction at this point was the easiest one. "You do speak like a biologist, I'll give you that. But there are other sciences out there. People are dying, and it is cruel and heartbreaking, but this is a fate of something much bigger - an impossible town that can host another seventeen thousands, and give them - if my project succeeds - immortality. The one you yourself have been looking to achieve."

"I am not speaking about miracles, professor. If anything, I am a sceptic. I don't believe in magic and gods - even if the local barbarians prove this point wrong time and time again. I believe there are things we cannot yet explain, but we shouldn't deny their existence. Miracle is just something that has such a small chance of happening, it is considered impossible. But there is a chance on it happening. Fire was once considered godly, until we tamed it. Now we make soup on it. Humanity have learned to use the laws of gravity to their benefit, even though the ancient man has considered it a miracle: that things fall down, but not up. There was a time when humans could not brave the sky, and now we've build monstrous metal birds that rain fire on our enemies. Times when we were afraid of nature have passed. And we should not be afraid of death. When those who are afraid perish, the rest of us will embed it into us. Use it. Control it. And never be afraid of it again.", his voice was calm and a little sad, and was he speaking to someone from the crowd, they might've took his words as the truth. He might've been the Judge for this attitude: that whatever he says, however nonsensical his words are, he sounded confident, and caring, and just a little bit condescending. So much so, people whatever to trust and believe him.

"I have been visited by one of the sick recently, asking for my help. One you seemed to miss when locking this place down. We spoke at length, and he made me think about it all. As I said, the sickness is already here, for I have spoken to an infected. You cannot do anything but embrace what's coming to us within this day. I suspected you wouldn't understand that this is a fate of a city, all of it, not just human beings inhabiting it. But I had hope our time together taught you to give things a wider look. Just like the barbarians do. They aren't afraid to die, and, miraculously, none get sick. Do you believe this is a coincidence?"

 

[Featherstone]

"I believe it to be a correlation, not a matter of cause and effect." There was no anger in Noah's tone but it was more controlled than an entirely calm man's would be. "There are many things unique to the barbarians. Their entire ancestry is different--countless variables separate us, our cultures, our ways, and one could pluck any of these things that they do differently and say, 'but see, they do not become sick, and look at this, this thing that is all their own: this must be why.' I, more than anyone, believe in the possibility of the immortal--if I didn't, I wouldn't be here--but with all due respect, Mr. Caine--and I do respect you, truly--I don't think that letting an epidemic run rampant is the answer. If we can't keep the sickness at bay with quarantine because the infected are already here, then we can slow it! We can develop medicine! There are ways to address this, sir, and I refuse to simply open my arms to that which I believe, I believe with empirical data at my back, to have the potential to render this place extinct.

"You speak of there being things we haven't yet explained. I don't argue that. I'm a scientist as much as a doctor, and every day there are patients that seemingly come back to life, or live years past their expectancy, or make recoveries before thought impossible. But I don't hinge the fate of even one life, much less six thousand, on chance. I don't see a cancer patient and remember one case from twenty years ago where someone's tumors receded in size and then act as if that is a possibility for the person in front of me. I see a cancer patient, hope that they'll be like that one from twenty years ago, and then proceed on the assumption that they won't be--because that is what is most likely. These are numbers, these are indisputable facts, not speculation or hope. Much less the fact that these things you mention, technologies and tools, they weren't made through passivity: it took countless lives' worth of effort to learn how to fly. It is easier to let it in, I know that temptation and I know it all too well, but can't you see how that will be our undoing? You can't win a war by setting down your arms."

The question was posed in an almost plaintive tone. He was imploring, even begging, his animosity shifting towards a desperation that continued to cling on his words when he continued. He moved his weight away from the wall to take a step towards the Judge, hand coming from his pocket in a pleading gesture held close to his body. "Please, Mr. Caine, sir, please don't follow through with this. It's not too late. Not yet. Why can't we master our fear while finding a cure? Why do we have to let people die when we could be saving them? I had a man today pass before I ever even arrived because I wasn't fast enough. His son's an orphan, now. How many more children will be doomed to that fate if you do this? How many people suffering through an agonizing death of delirium and suffocation? What of you and I and the entire population of this place? And to what end, that of hope for the near-impossible for this town, believed to be won through...what? Passivity? Idle observation? Faith? Luck, of which we've had none? You aren't a foolish man, sir, nor are you stupid; there is a reason you lead this town, made it. Surely you can see the flaws in this course of action."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Indeed, but who did achieve immortality even if once in generations? Were it the Tanners, or the Caines?", an argument hard to conquer. Although Noah didn't meet the man in person due to the epidemic, Simon Caine was someone who had lived here for generations upon generations, ever since the founding of this town, and maybe even before that. People spoke of him with unease, as any animal would be afraid of something unnatural, but at the same time - never ran into his home with stakes and torches. "I am not trying to belittle you, I'm just saying that my family might be considered a family of dreamers. Not in the sense we do nothing and just imagine things, and dream of them coming true: on the contrary, we have been placing impossible tasks to ourselves, and achieving them one by one. And ever since we came here, it wasn't without the help of said barbarians, and trust in their beliefs. They are truly a wondrously weird folk, and do certain things I cannot understand, however, how different they are, they are still human, just like us. They live with us, they have children with us, they eat the same food, they drink the same wine, their blood is good for transfusions, and here's the most wondrous thing about all of this." He suddenly looked Noah straight in the eye. Even in the dark and hidden in shadow it was obvious. "Those of them who denied their primal ways, and joined what we call civilised society, still get sick. Nothing changed but their culture, language, and beliefs. I have not a slightest clue how this culture of their influences us and works, but it does... miracles, for the lack of better word. And I don't need to understand it to see it work. See for yourself, if you'd like. And look outside - can you understand how that tower of ours hangs in the air? Does the fact you cannot make it fall?"

He sighed, looking back outside the window. It looked into the garden - now yellow, trees devoid of leaves, their crooked branches reaching for the cold, blue sky. "You can try treat individual cases, if that makes you feel better, but it is a lost cause. Only those who just accept their demise, and welcome it with open arms have a chance on survival. You asked me earlier why I declared you dead. That is because you are.", Gregory sighed. "We all are, until the end of this day. Rest is just a formality."

 

[Featherstone]

Noah hadn't expected his answers here to be framed in a scientific manner. It was as Gregory Caine had already said: once, fire was considered divine, until man came to understand it. Immortality, Noah surmised, would be much the same and, indeed, here it was. Yet, was immortality truly the most probably explanation for Simon Caine's allegedly long life? Or was something like cloning far more likely? He did have a point, though, in the barbarians. If what he claimed was true about their survival and apparent immunity, then certainly, there had to be something they were doing--but what if it was a ritual herb, or some strange little tick in their daily routine, or any one of countless other behavioural variables? It didn't have to be morphological.

Gregory Caine was living in a dream. He spoke like it, his voice only faint, distant echoes of what went on inside. His eyes looked but saw something between nothing and everything. Even the house that he lived in seemed to tear reality apart at the edges. Noah turned his head away when the Judge dropped his eyes back to the window. He was quiet, for a while, lost; lost in his thoughts, lost in his confusion, lost in this seemingly hopeless fight. He was so tired of fighting but he, unlike Mr. Caine, had every intention of taking up arms regardless. He didn't have to be convinced that things he didn't understand could be real, but the thought of putting thousands of lives on the line for it...It made his stomach roil, a sensation of snakes wrapping through his gut. If Caine wouldn't do anything about it, then Noah would. If the barbarians were the only ones surviving, then he'd find out why, and he'd fix this--and it wouldn't be on blind faith in their ways.

When he did speak, it was soft enough that it could've easily been overlooked. "I don't suppose you could tell me what the barbarians say about crows, seeing as we're at an impasse in regards to the pest?"

 

[kevintheradioguy]

It looked like the man strained for a moment, thinking, and nodding towards the window. "The costumes. Used in national plays. Crows might be analogous of dogs, I suppose. They are always near, they show people what they cannot, they lead. That is all I know. These people have a very odd culture they keep close to heart. Though i do not think their secret is crows. Else none of your orderlies would've died, and we know many of them went to the pyre as well. You might as well ask them yourself, however, it took us decades to learn at lest something from them, at last the basics. I do not think they would trust an outsider enough to tell of their beliefs."

 

[Featherstone]

"This town doesn't have decades. What of Simon Caine? Is it possible that I could speak with him?" Noah asked. Based on this, the barbarians weren't getting sick, and Simon had supposedly achieved immortality, or some semblance thereof. They were the only leads he had. If the broken town wouldn't listen to him and he no longer had the Judge's backup, then his trying to herd everyone into quarantine and lock down was utterly useless. He could only go so far without the peoples' consent, much less with such rudimentary equipment. If all he could do was study, and treat individual cases, then that was what he'd do.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Would you risk bringing deadly disease into the chambers of someone who had lived for hundreds of years?", Gregory replied with his own question. Simon was, after all, immortal. Not indestructible. it made sense that both him and the family would keep their biggest project safe while something was killing people. Depending on who one asked - it was whether sickness, or the doctor treating it. But the attitude towards medical professionals was rarely every fair. When they succeeded - it was a god sent miracle; when they failed - it was their own negligence. Noah was experiencing that first-hand.

 

[Featherstone]

"No, but I would prioritize six thousand lives over one. Communication doesn't require direct contact." A long shot, but it wasn't as if Noah had a lot of options sitting around. "Besides, if what you say is true, then all he has to do is accept death, then he'd be as safe as the rest of your town. Or don't you believe your own rhetoric?" There it was again: that edge of his temper taking over his good sense, even if he had no intentions of outright coming after the Judge. "What am I supposed to do here, Mr. Caine? I'm a doctor in a dying town that won't hear a word I say." A soldier, fighting an enemy that wasn't tangible, but he didn't mention that, as much as he felt it. War was better left to his memories alone. "I speak and my voice is ignored, I act and I'm doomed to failure because none will act with me, out of despair or blind faith or words of miracles. The only people who have answers won't give them to me and there's a mob on the other side of that door looking to stone me because my failures are my fault and my successes are divine providence. I come here, to help, to offer help, and you turn me away because of anecdotal evidence. What am I supposed to do with that?"

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Then why do you insist on talking to a person instead of dozens outside?", the man parried Noah's question, though he didn't expect an answer. There were people in the Cathedral who needed him, and he didn't come. There were people outside the doors that demanded his attention, but he ignored it. There was a point to Caine's words, whether he knew both of these stories or not.

"I do not know.", he replied honestly to Noah's dismay. "I have spent my entire life building trust with people around. Being there for them. In return, they love me almost like a father. You haven't been successful at this these last few days. In fact, if you don't mind me saying, you don't look like people's person at all. But isn't that a curse of every doctor? That whatever you do, the blame is on you?", he paused, and sighed, shaking his head. "Why do they want to stone you? What did you do? Say? Did you ask them what's the problem? Did you address it? Knowing you, professor, for however little I did, I get the feeling you dismissed them, or ignored them, or were rude. And people are on edge now. At this time, they need compassion - not attitude. And such attitude not only angers them, but lowers their morale. They do not cooperate because you failed to make them want to cooperate, and that - making people want to help you - is an important skill - especially for a doctor - I hope you shall learn. I do not know what you can do now about it - only what you could've done to prevent it. But it is a little too late for that, isn't it? I am sorry for not being of any use with this; I'm sure that you don't need my help to understand what should've been done in retrospect."

 

[Featherstone]

No, Gregory was right: Noah wasn't a people person. His social skills were only good insofar as cordiality and rote manners could bring him. It'd been different on the battlefield because he couldn't wear a mask in war, and that had made him human. Before that, after it...He wasn't cut out for this. God, he wished Carter were here instead. He was better with people and medicine alike. Even when Noah had been a leader, it'd been in a minor capacity--lead a few men, or comparatively so, ones he knew and worked with intimately with only a stranger here or there, but never anything like this, and now he knew why. A deep sigh left Noah's lips, his own gaze turning to the window.

"Do you think I can fix it?" he asked, but had a feeling he already knew the answer. What was done was done. Could he go out that door and raise his hands and try to listen, or was it already far too late for that? Yet every minute he spent talking he wasn't spending on learning this disease. Every moment he spent learning, he ignored the people. And now he was seeing things, too, as if what actually existed wasn't enough to pull him in more directions than he could possibly go.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Usually I would say to give them time. Emotions subside. They change. Anger turns into sadness all too often. People know - even if they do not realise it - that being angry is much more productive and easy than being sad. Unfortunately, we have no time."

Noah seemed to be working with others like with objects: in a way that an object can wait however long Noah wants before getting to it. He can spend his time in preparation, do other things that would make his job faster and easier, and said object would not mind. People weren't objects, however. Sure, they might have gotten better treatment if they'd just wait and endure, but they were human. They had emotions. They wanted help, and if not help - then at least some attention. Some assurance that didn't sound bigoted. And at this point they didn't ask Noah anything - they started demanding, just because it's human nature to get revenge. 'If you are being a bastard to us, we will be bastards in return'. The giant bird didn't lie at least in that regard.

And Caine didn't lie about not having enough time. There were things Noah could try doing: checking the Cathedral for any tips, looking for the local nutjob and the house she got into, investigating the camp with ritual going on, trying to figure out what he did now to bring people's wrath. But could he do all that in one day, and would any of this help in shedding some light on the epidemic and how could he prove Gregory wrong and keep people safe? If there's at least one sick, tomorrow dozens of people would be lying on the streets, screaming, cramping, burning down. The next day everyone would catch the infection. The next day, no one will be left there to tell their story. It all wills tart from one single person, and Noah had no idea who that even was, and no way to stop them. Caine surely didn't want to cooperate, believing this sickness a baptism now. He had to work this out on your own if he wanted to save people and himself.