Clockhands - July 5, 2011

A short thing on bioterrorism...I wrote this after reading Streams of Babel. People should check it out, it's a good book.
Sorry this is so morbid :(

tick. tick. tick.
I'm watching the clock hands count down to my demise.
tick. this room is so silent that very second has the power to fill my mind.
I was left here to die. there's something inside of me, something growing more quickly than I can cut it down, ready to take control.
that is their fear. if the disease takes my mind, I will be a monster, and they will be at my mercy. tyrants that they are, they are terrified of losing their power. it shines through even a natural protection of their lives.
for every life saved, one must be lost.
never comforting words, but even less so when I'm the one in danger. they told me that thinking that I'll be at peace knowing because they tested their weapon on me, and forced me into a condition that cannot be cured, the next victim might be spared that mistake. it doesn't matter. I don't want to die; I don't have a choice.
the dull headache that's chased me since I realized this is a germ that kills is roaring to life. I can't yank my eyes from the pendulum still swinging, slow, relentless. my head will burst, my veins filled with fire, if the minute hand keeps climbing- but of course, I don't have the power to stop it. my vision blurs red. this silent attic, empty except for dust and an old grandfather clock in one corner, is my grave.
tragedies don't seem real until you're one of them. all those front-page newspaper headlines, a murder in this town, a fire in that one, the flaming wreckage of a car collision smoldering at the corner of your street... why hadn't I prayed for them? given them something to grasp on to? maybe if I do now, they will pray for me, give me some connection to this world after I've left...
the clock hands click to a stop at 12:00, and the world fades away to black.

-Alex Rush