CHRONIC KIDNEY DISEASE—
Causes: Diabetes, high blood pressure, glomerulonephritis, genetic transmission.
Diagnosis: Blood tests measuring glomerular filtration rate, urine tests measuring albumin, ultrasound, biopsy.
Treatment: Pills managing blood pressure, active lifestyle, dietary changes, hemodialysis, peritoneal dialysis, kidney transplant.
Symptoms: Swelling of the legs, fatigue, vomiting, loss of appetite, confusion.
Status: Incurable, at 323 million affected and 1.2 million dead.
COMMON COLD—
Causes: Virus, transmission via airborne droplets, direct contact with infected objects or persons.
Diagnosis: Self-diagnosis.
Treatment: Fever medication, nasal decongestant, rest, maintaining hydration.
Symptoms: Cough, sore throat, runny nose, fever.
Status: Incurable, with 2-4 and 6-8 cases per year for adults and children respectively.
FIBRODYSPLASIA OSSIFICANS PROGRESSIVA—
Causes: Autosomal dominant allele on chromosome 2q23-24, genetic transmission.
Diagnosis: Elevated levels of alkaline phosphatase, bone-specific alkaline phosphatase, deformed big toes, missing joint, notable lump.
Treatment: N/A
Symptoms: Ossification of fibrous tissues either spontaneously or when damaged.
Status: Incurable, at 0.5 million affected.
GLIOBLASTOMA—
Causes: N/A
Diagnosis: CT scan, MRI scan, stereotactic biopsy, craniotomy with tumor resection and pathologic confirmation.
Treatment: Anticonvulsant treatment, corticosteroids, surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy.
Symptoms: Seizures, headaches, nausea, vomiting, memory loss, personality changes, localized neurological problems.
Status: Three new cases per 100,00 people per year.
INSOMNIA—
Causes: Psychoactive drugs, use and/or withdrawal of sedatives and pain-relievers, heart disease, pain, hormone shifts, fear, stress, anxiety, emotional tension, gastrointestinal issues, mental disorders, disturbances to the circadian rhythm, genetic transmission, elevated nighttime levels of circulating cortisol and adrenocorticotropic hormones.
Diagnosis: Athens insomnia scale, sleep history and habits, overnight sleep study.
Treatment: Sleep hygiene, stimulus control, keeping a journal, regular sleep and wake cycle, music, medication, melatonin, antidepressants.
Symptoms: Trouble sleeping, fatigue, low energy, irritability, depression.
Status: Between 10% and 30% of adults may have insomnia at any given time, while in 6% it may last for longer than a month.
TOXOPLASMOSIS—
Causes: Toxoplasma gondii, eating poorly cooked foods, exposure to cat feces, genetic transmission (if contracted during pregnancy), blood transfusion.
Diagnosis: Blood tests, amniotic fluid tests.
Treatment: Medication.
Symptoms: N/A unless the patient has a weakened immune system or is immunosuppressed which can result in headaches, confusion, poor coordination, seizures, lung problems, encephalitis, necrotizing retinochoroiditis.
Status: About 50% of the population affected.
Part I. The Dove's Death Hymn
Se Uita sat hunched in a corner of the dark room scribbling notes and throwing them to the floor, only to immediately replace the page with another in a cycle of maddened form-filling. The assistant would sort through the mess in the morning. For now, his goal was to get down as much information onto paper as he could. Names, ages, occupations, ranks, districts.
The tedium taken to his hand and the writing come muddled, he stood and massaged his tender muscles. The sun had long fallen beyond the city walls and the chill had set in. With a sigh and ring of the bell, Se Uita once more became the night.
Initium Vitae Columbae opened early to ensure that preparations could be made before the hastily called-in mourning. Se arrived before the sun had risen, sleep still in his eyes and memory of the metal door handle still warm. Haphazardly working his way past the paper snow he made his way over to the calming pastel blue wall, beyond which his supplies were laid a-rest. He’d retrieved a bariatric stretcher just as he heard the hum of quiet organization beyond his walls.
The corps adorned in white lowered a dark bag from the back of a large truck onto the sidewalk in front of Initium Vitae Columbae. They were gone before Se had even reached the door. He huffed as he rolled the bagged body onto the stretcher as cleanly as he could. He held his head low and kept quiet with a solemn respect to the unknown person he was wheeling through his front door. He hadn't received any details, but after death they were all the same to him anyway.
He transferred the body from the stretcher onto a steel bed hidden away in the the back of the building. Armed with a pair of scissors, he opened the bag. The body, a red-haired woman, had been thoroughly cleaned of any distinct identifiers before she was placed inside. A lanyard was strung around her neck. He cut it loose. The payment.
The steel bed was surrounded by seven canopic jars containing the remains of a Blimp-Whale corpse the mortician had found once while on a trip to the edge of the Ocean. On his trip, Se had also managed to find fragments of teeth, the sands having shifted enough to reveal them before the party returned to the city. He’d cut the ribs into pieces as the sun rose and fit as many into his coat and bags as he could before anyone else had awoken.
After cutting the bag away from the body, he turned to one of the jars and filled it with water. He let it sit, continuing the ritual with each jar. After they’d all been filled, he waited ten minutes for the holie bones to absorb the water. In the meantime, he opened a hatch on the side of the metal slab and replaced the fire-paper that lay underneath the cover of the metal table.
Once the clock had run its course, he removed the fragments from each of the jars and placed them at each of her extremities. The last two bones he held for himself, and again he waited as the cleaned bones transferred the newly holied-water into their new host. Se could feel both of his hands weakening but there was no one else here for the woman in her death, and so he was left dealing with her final rites alone. The bell rang beyond his earthly perception, soon followed by the shuffling of papers in the other room as his assistant began the cleanup.
Grey smoke rose from the body. It was funneled through a vent and sent beyond the limits of the city where it could find its way back to the Ocean. Usually, the mortician would close any openings and ensure to catch as much of the Ghost as he could, but there was no one here to collect any of the essence on her behalf, and he had no need to pry into her memories, thoughts, or feelings.
“May your Ghost reach the Ocean,” Se muttered, “and provide harmony.”
When the smoke cleared, he returned the bones to their respective jars and began the final phase of operations. His hands still weak, Se shuffled through drawers until he found a lighter and bent down under the steel bed. He felt around the metal bottom of the table until his fingers felt a small opening where the fire-paper could be reached by the lighter’s flame, and ignited it. Instantly, the table began to radiate brilliant sparks until it was completely engulfed in flame. He watched in silence as she burned.
When there was nothing but ash left on the metal sheet, Se Uita beckoned for his assistant. He came in with a small black bag and held it against the table. The mortician lifted the bed at an angle, sending all of the ash into the bag. Searching through his drawers once again, he pulled out a tag, labelled it A. #3323 and used it to tie the bag. He then turned to his assistant.
“Is the schedule still open?”
“It is, sir.”
“Then you’ll be joining me on a trip to the Breach this afternoon.”
Se Uita and his assistant, still carrying the black bag, departed once the schedule was confirmed. Initium Vitae Columbae was near enough the Breach that they could walk to the nearest Versenwatch within minutes. A Crimson Guard Watchman sat behind a thick wall of glass and stood up as the pair approached him. He saluted them and sat back down.
“Me and the boy need Breach permits.”
The Watchman looked over his desk to identify the names, occupations, and ages of the travelers before him that the computer had gathered from it’s scan and entered into the terminal. He asked them the same questions for confirmation.
“Names?”
“Se Uita. The boy is my—”
“He’ll tell me.” Interrupted the Watchman. “What is your name, and what are your relations to this man?” he questioned, focusing intensely on the assistant.
“I’m his assistant, Kohsahr An.” The reply was much more confident than the Watchman had anticipated.
“Uita, your occupation?”
“Mortician.”
“And what brings you both down to the Breach?”
Se grabbed the bag from Kohsahr’s hands and brought it up to the glass. “The Transisting. No one to see her off but us.”
“Alright,” the Crimson Guard pushed a button on the console in front of him, opening a small aperture in the glass. “Pass it through.”
Se pushed the bag through the hole and the Guard placed it into a black box for scanning. Once confirmed clear, he pushed the bag back through to Se, who in turn handed it back to his assistant.
“Two Breach permits. That comes to one-hundred CC each.”
Se reached into his pocket and placed 200 CCs through a second slit that had opened up before him. The Guard reached through, took the Capitol Currency, and replaced it with two Breach passes. A gateway ahead of the two travelers opened, and they walked through.
The inside of the Breach accessible to the public was filled with souvenir shops, flashing lights, and groups of tourists wandering around, hopping from one destination to another. On the far end, windows peered out the the vast Ocean, only briefly interrupted by the forest directly below. The Breach was the only thing that protected the citizens of Novissimus Flos from the storms outside. To be this close made Se anxious, but the Ocean fascinated him just as much as it did everyone else. They made their way to an elevator and hit the top floor.
The roof of the Breach was barren and smooth, a consequence of all of the sandstorms that had passed overhead over the centuries since its construction. The few tourists who dared venture this high shielded their eyes from the harsh sun and debris that flew overhead. Most quickly returned to the elevator. Se and Kohsahr walked toward the railing, the only thing preventing either of them from falling off of the massive structure and into the sand-covered forest below.
“Kohsahr,” the mortician used his name. “The Transisting, if you would.”
The request startled him. He’d never been given this permission before. “Right, yes.”
He reached into the bag and threw the ashes into the wind. Behind him, Se Uita had begun chanting.
“May your Ghost reach the Ocean and provide harmony. May the harmony brought forth satisfy the Whale, Irisidiom. May Irisidiom, provided for and satisfied, return a harmony of her own.”
Part II. An Epitaph for the Wisteria
The apartment was built on a rotating axis that allowed the building to follow the sun as it moved throughout the sky. From the mountains, it looked like a sunflower in constant motion against the still outline of a city. It generated power for those living within who’d come to call the building Follower, or Flower. Inside, mirrors directed light from one end of the building to the other. It was a constant bright that bombarded the halls. Only the drawing of shades would drive it out.
Lillian sat, huddled under a blanket and her arms folded on the table, as she watched Walker prepare breakfast. He pulled two red pills from their wrapping and held them in his hands. Suppression Pills. With a quick peek out the window, he removed a small black box from the back of the cabinet, opened the top and placed both pills inside. He closed the lid and waited. The air around the 31st floor of the building was cold, but his back sweat in the reflections of the sun .
Lillian eyed the box. “You know they make better Skips now, right? That don’t take as long.”
Walker turned back towards her, lifting his shoulders. “They're still too big.”
"Then why don’t you make a smaller one yourself?"
“Oh, they’ve long surpassed my original design. They'll get smaller with time.”
Both of their skulls vibrated, the corner of their retinas burned with sight of the hall beyond their door.
“Should only be a few more seconds until the pills are done. I’ll let them in,” Walker said as he pushed his way past her and out of the cramped kitchen.
A wry scowl greeted him beyond the door. “ You think they’d teach you about punctuality in all that goddamn Guard training. How’ve you been?”
“We’re just about ready to execute th—”
A ringing from the kitchen. Lillian pulled the top off of the black box and removed the blue pills.
“—the plan.”
Lillian walked in and passed a cup and the pill to Walker, then welcomed Hadleigh and Wynn.
Hadleigh stared. “You still using that old Skip?”
“Waiting for a smaller one.” Walker said.
Lillian led the group through a closet into a small passage away from the large windows that covered the exterior of Flower. She pulled a key from her long coat and opened a door leading to the raven room. Maps hung from the concrete walls. Firearms lay scattered along a wooden bench. Walker's Crimson Guard armour adorned a mannequin in the corner, still shining from a recent polishing.
Lillian pulled out the ID from her shirt pocket as she approached the guard.
"Birthday?"
"18th of December 3052."
"Reason for your visit?" He probed.
"Suppression check."
The guard moved aside. "Head on through."
The inside of the building was sterile cleanser. White walls with red stripes pointed in various directions to lead the unfamiliar around, though very few were unfamiliar with the layout. Most of the offices were built as images of the first. She made her way to the back of the suppression check line.
The Central Novissimus Flos Suppression Office was a squat concrete shard with massive windows and pillars that loomed like shadows of birds. Crimson Guards lined the exterior walls. Armaments in hand they stood watch, unmoving, as an inordinate number of people entered and exited the building.
Wynn fired a burst in the distance. Hadleigh watched the pandemonium crowds. In the commotion, she put a hole through the Crimson Guard at the entrance and hauled the gored husk of muscle into the shadows. Walker, encased in the shell of his old Crimson uniform, posted by the door before anyone could noticed what had happened. Within minutes, the area calmed and the line moved forward anew.
After an act of inspection, he allowed Lillian entry into the office. Hadley and Wynn pulled away from the building.
“You ready?” Wynn asked Hadleigh.
She replied and placed the helmet over her head, her voice emitting through each of their radios in a static haze. “A3 and A4 in position, A1?”
Lillian looked to the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the office's mass-congregation. “A1 ready, A2?”
Walker looked in the direction of Hadleigh and Wynn and nodded. “A2 set. Go.”
From roofs afar, Hadleigh and Wynn fired blindly toward the building. Walker ran in their direction and ordered the other guards away from the office and towards them. Civilians fell for the linoleum refuge.
Lillian took the opportunity to run behind the counter, grab one of the receptionists and force him to a door at the back of the building to scan his ID, opening it. A flash of her pistol, a ring in the ear, and he dropped. She stepped over his corpse and into the database. The whisper of servomechs isolated her from the gunshots outside.
She pulled open her jacket and removed several flat objects. Carefully, she placed them by the servers around the room.
"A1 reporting in. Explosives placed."
"Roger that A1. Get out of there."
"On my w—" Static.
A civilian grabbed hold of her ankle and pulled her down. The trigger fell from her hand and hit the floor.
Walker’s face contorted within the mask as he caught the explosion. Glass shrapnel pierced his joints. The birds fell from the sky. In a breath, ash.
He awoke to a familiar stone-crested ceiling.
"Good morning."
"Shit." He attempted to move his head but the chains restrained him.
"That's no way to speak to your Captain."
He spat. "Former Captain."
"Well, you never resigned. Although now that we've got the armour back, I guess the process is formally complete."
He shook his constrained wrists. "What do you want?"
"Casualties are over two hundred. More are still coming in as they succumb to their injuries. I want to know why.”
"Why?" He smiled. "That's it? Tell me where—"
"They're dead. Lillian, Wynn, and Hadleigh. It's just you now."
His eyes welled.
"How dare you!" The Captain howled. "Two hundred innocents dead and you cry for three terrorists!" She lifted her hand to strike, then pulled back. "Why." She demanded.
"I don't trust those fucking pills."
"The pills that brought an end to the age of disease? You were smart, once. One of us. How could you have clouded so thoroughly? Are there any other Anti-Suppression Cells?"
He laughed and bit down into his tooth. His body shook.
The Captain slammed her fist against the wall.
Part III. Black Sand Wonderland
Six Hours Prior to the C-NF-SO Bombing
“C076, confirm presence.”
“C076, confirmed.”
“C077, confirm presence.”
“C077, confirmed.”
In white, they stood silent. The floor fallen ash, though footfall left no trace. Ahead of them, one other. He who called directives.
“C078, confirm presence.”
“C078, confirmed.”
“C081, confirm presence.”
“C081, confirmed.”
"C082, confirm presence.”
“C082, confirmed.”
“C084, confirm presence.”
“C084, confirmed.”
“All confirmations acquired. Stand for orders.”
Thirteen Minutes After the C-NF-SO Bombing
They loaded the last body into the back of the van and stepped into the vehicle. The leader, sitting at the wheel, received a message just as he began to pull the away from the site.
“Captain of the Crimson Guard,” the static voice reported. “This drop is to be discreet. Three separate locations, no official statements.”
“Confirmed.”
He relayed the information to C076 in the seat next to him, who called the first facility.
“Initium Vitae Columbae.” The old man on the other end was tired.
"We’ve arranged a truck for corpse transportation. Body contains the payment."
"Job'll done by nightfall."