Page 16 of Glass Rose
@MediaWatcher: You can tell it’s fake by the way the “zombie” moves.
@ConspiracyHunter: Another viral marketing stunt. Probably for that new horror movie.
Those would have been the comments on my videos if I had just posted them online. Alex was right.
“They think it’s fake.” I scroll through more reactions. “Everyone thinks it’s not real.”
Dr. Cho peers over my shoulder. “A logical response. The human mind rejects information that doesn’t align with established reality. Calling it fake provides a convenient explanation for the inconceivable.”
“It keeps people off the streets and creates fewer infection points. Mass-panic would only worsen the situation,” Gavin says. “By the time people realize it’s real, it’ll be too late, or they’ll have it under control.”
“But… How?” I whisper. “How did it spread so fast?”
“My guess is it was already spreading before tonight. Your little video exposé just accelerated the timeline.”
“Video exposé? What happened down there?” Dr. Cho asks. “I was working late when the alarms started. I heard gunshots…”
“BC-7 mutated or at least I think it did… I’m not sure,” I say. “They got into the cells and then?—”
She stares at me. “You? You did this?”
“Not on purpose.” Shame burns through me. “I was trying to expose Green, not release the subjects.”
“People are dying, Dr. Cruz.”
“I know.” I scroll through more videos. A woman shows off a new recipe, another presents her vacation home, and a guy on a motorcycle removes his shirt to reveal his abs. Normal things. Another clip starts. Footage of a café downtown. The Little Bean. Where we all grab coffee before shifts. “Holy shit.”
Mark, who always remembers my complicated order, backs away from a customer leaping across the counter.
I know that face. “That’s—” I turn the phone toward Dr. Cho.
“Dr. Novak.” Her eyes widen. “He called in sick three days ago. HR said he was hospitalized with severe flu symptoms.”
“Well, he looks pretty fucking lively for someone supposedly in the hospital.” I zoom in on his face.
“Let me see that.” Gavin takes the phone from my hand, glancing between the road and the screen. “When exactly did he get ‘sick’?”
“Tuesday morning,” Dr. Cho says.
Gavin tosses the phone back to me. “That’s your patient zero. Docs.”
“That can’t be right,” Dr. Cho says. “Did he inject it himself?”
“He worked on Level 4, right?” I turn to face her fully. “How many times did Webb restrict your access to Level 4? How many ‘need-to-know’ projects were you shut out of?”
She looks away, and I have my answer.
The virus was already out there.
A notification pops up.
EMERGENCY ALERT: All citizens must remain indoors. Downtown area is off-limits until further notice. Monitor official emergency channels for updates.
This isn’t just a facility breach.
This is the end of the world.
And I helped cause it.
