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[December 9th, 6:12am] guardianmars Temptation, thou art an exquisite delicacy.... The crowning glory of any research is a breakthrough discovery. The promise, the intoxicating pull of possibility is the apple dangling tantalizingly in the peripheral of vision, taunting in all its delicious glory. A blinding red and crisp scent; imagination overwhelming the senses and the Pavlovian reaction is unavoidable - salivation. Striving to reach the impossible just for a taste. But it is not only the promise of discover that drives him, our researcher. No, there is the press of fear and the secret desire to touch the depths of taboo. Fear of mortality, and the overpowering rush of playing God. There are secrets here, just begging to be uncovered, whispering like a forgotten lover in the dark; sensual and irresistible, but musky and long discarded. She needs only his serum, his brilliance to be awakened, and she will be his, and his alone. His genius will keep them together forever; life and science. Could there really be something to prolong this most terminal of diseases - life? Something to leave one alive and writhing long past one's predetermined time? Could God be tricked? She whispers these things to him as she holds him in her grasp: Oh, yes, there must be a way to...prolong the condition. He is reaching for eternity. A forever more tangible than Heaven, visible in the here and now; not that rubbish of another life that can only be speculated about. He wants to taste her lips in this life, and hold her close to him for all time. Mummification, cryogenics; they can preserve a body, but not the spark that animates. There is no life in these eternal shells. Could life be tied to a corpse? Re-animated, somehow? Would the reborn be the same as their former selves, or would it be like the Monkey's Paw? A mobile shell possessed by a walk-in spirit. Would he have to play exorcist, and cast out his monstrosities? Better yet, could he simply forgo the need for any sort of preparation? A way that a man could step back into life after only moments, like waking from a brief nap? Oh, the feeling of elation - serpentine entanglement of scientific discovery! He feels her, there, in the darkness just outside of perception, beckoning him with all of her powers of deception. This laboratory, his Eden, and she, his Serpent. He would, like Eve, take the bait, and should Adam scold him? Well, he would make a fine research subject.... post comment . edit post . add to memories

[December 9th, 6:12am] guardianmars "Dr. Isenhour!" ___'s voice pulled Jacob from his thoughts and he turned to the younger researcher; the young man looked thoroughly alarmed, causing Isenhour some discomfort. "What is it?" the senior researcher asked, concern in his voice. It must be one of the test subjects; something must have gone wrong. He only hoped that it was salvageable, whatever the error. "Subject F, Doctor. She's..." the young researcher trailed off, correcting himself on personifying the control subject. "It's...showing signs of extreme distress!" Isenhour furrowed his brow. "Describe it to me," he prompted, grabbing a clipboard and urging the young researcher in the direction of the monitoring room. The virus, not yet ready for field testing had been unleashed on a small section of the compound, who were resigned to their quarters. A small asylum-like hospital that had been converted for every day living; barracks for sleeping, mess hall for eating; personal interaction encouraged, but not required. Many of the subjects had come voluntarily - recruited from different locations and backgrounds. Isenhour had insisted on a varied ethnic and moralistic background - he wanted to see how the virus would affect a multitude of people. It wasn't ready, but if they were going to do it, he was going to make damn sure the trial was done right. And really, he'd resigned himself to knowing this was the only way he would ever be able to test it on living organisms outside of rats and rabbits. It wasn't enough; different genetic makeup in animals caused entirely different reactions than what he'd tested on human corpses, dedicated to science. Rabbits had revived almost completely, turning feral, and eventually killing themselves. They were destructive, and if not kept fed and occupied, they simply resorted to tearing their own flesh off. (Birds) had done the same. Rats, on the other hand, had been docile unless presented with prey. Non-hunting animals, resorting to instincts drasitcally different from those they were born with. Isenhour wondered how a predator would react. "She's breathing heavily; more than usual," Isenhour frowned. Subject F was an overweight subject, slightly asthmatic, and prone to labored respiration. Not all that surprising that infection had caused her lungs to have to work even harder. "Not only that, but she seems easily frustrated, and there's a loss of basic motor skill." Isenhour stopped in front of the monitors, quickly switching camera 8-Q to the largest screen. He turned the zoom lens and watched as subject F struggled to remove the lid from a simple Tupperware. Left-overs from the mess hall that she'd stowed away in a discarded container she had managed to obtain. From the worn lettering, it appeared to be a butter container. Interestingly resourceful, Isenhour noted, adding a quick note to the clipboard in front of her. He'd add a detailed notice to her file based on his observations here, so he needed to observe any details. Her sausage-like fingers seemed to claw at the lid as they slipped off time and time again, and at each failed attempt, she appeared to grow more and more distressed, eyes widening, breath shortening. It was a crazed look that settled in the back of her eyes, and caused Isenhour to lean closer to the monitor. Was it a mental imbalance caused by the virus? "Does she normally become so easily agitated?" Isenhour asked the young researcher. "Not according to her files. It was just an off chance when I was skimming the monitors that I happened to notice it. I wasn't really looking for it, but I couldn't figure out what she was doing..." "It's alright. It was a good catch." Isenhour smiled to himself. Finally. Some change in their reactions. This was the most major breakthrough since the infection just 24 hours ago. The loss of motor function worried him a bit. He had seen that sort of deterioration in the rats, once they were left to their own devices. Eventually, flesh began to give way to visible muscle and bone. Not only did motor function and brain stimulation deteriorate, but the body seemed to melt away, bit by bit. Eventually, they were reduced to bone and gore, but they were too mentally gone to notice. At that point, the rats had seemed to get more feral, in the manner of the rabbits, but still hadn't reached the point of self-destruction. post comment . edit post . add to memories

[December 9th, 6:12am] guardianmars [ mood | busy ] [ music | Resident Evil 0 ] [date: October 8, 2007] I considered reviving the polarishotel journal here, (Thanks for shutting down new account creation instead of just putting in a 'prove you're human code, GJ. Fucking genius.) but finally have decided against it. The piece(s) I'm working on this year are in an entirely different vein, and so I find that although it is an inspiring journal, created the year that I actually completed Nano (for all intents and purposes) it's time to move on past something stagnant. 2004. The crowning glory of masochistic achievement; my Nano account is a testament to it - Created October 31, 2004. The day before the internment into hell, and I did it. No point, no plot, no characters. "Stanley" never did get a name of his own, and breathed his support of his original basis character for the entirety of the novel. "Leonard" suffered a similar decline into virtual non-existance. Still, one chapter still stands out in my mind; Stanley's vicious murder of my plot-bunnies personified and brought to vivid, grotesque detail. It's some of my best writing to date (with the exception of that little Silent Hill 4 ficlet that I will never finish.) I'm hoping to at least meet that level of prose somewhere within this rambling 50,000 words I will be attempting to churn out over the next 30 days. That being said, I'm also taking on an additional challenge this year - lightningrapier will also be participating in Nano, and my job is to encourage her to complete a novel that is 4 years in the making. All The Good Men Dead. In that encouragement, we're hoping, together, to turn out 100,000 words for that one, still meeting Nano guidelines by doing 50,000 each. I don' know if I can personally muster a full 100,000 words myself this year; 50,000 for All The Good Men Dead and 50,000 for Infection. I'd like to lie myself into believing I can, but for me, a sense of accomplishment will be the finished product of just one of these by the end of the month. While I'm enthralled with mine, I have more riding on hers; I really want that one finished. I've been pushing her for plot for years, and now that there's something cognitive on the table, I can taste it; agonizing in its distance - taunting me. Wish me luck. Wish us luck. I have 100,000 words to write this November, and I swear to God, I'll probably just end up killing myself by the end of it. Expect to see my eyes gouged out and fingers in a pile next to the keyboard where I've ripped them from their sockets. This is not 2004; I have a job this year. I have obligations. I have Umbrella Chronicles coming out in the middle of the goddamn month, and no idea how I think I'm going to be able to resist the urge to throw these novels in the fire for this shiny new game. There is, of course, the ever-present probability that we will both be completely incapable of playing it, thus freeing up a new need to abuse poor Dr. Isenhour to work out my frustrations. I have a feeling that over the next month, he will become my new personal damnit-doll. "Damnit, Chris, go up the stairs." *beats Isenhour into unconsciousness* "Damnit Chris, I said SHOOT THE FUCKING THING." *emotionally traumatizes Isenhour as a result of Chris' beligerance* Um...yes. Pay no mind to the whimpering Doctor in the corner. He's earned this torment, I assure you. post comment . edit post . add to memories

Nano '04 : Chapter 5 [December 9th, 6:12am] guardianmars [ mood | inspired ] Excerpt from Nano '04; Chapter 5. ...Added long after the fact, the warning that I've been recommended should have been here from day one. </center> This is not for the faint of heart. This is dark. Gory. Nasty, and includes animal death. ( Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. ) post comment . edit post . add to memories

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