Pestilence

It was the first time Billy saw someone die. His grandpa was sitting in his grey leather recliner, craning his neck to talk to Aunt Carole behind him. He suddenly looked bewildered, and his body stiffened. Aunt Carole, confused at first, walked closer to grandpa. Then she screamed, her hands clawing at her mouth. Billy wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew it must have been bad because his mother scooped him up and ran into the nearest bedroom.

Tears were soaking her face.

“Stay here Billy, ok?” She said.

“What’s wrong mommy?” Asked Billy.

“Nothing sweety just stay here alright? Just stay here don’t come out.”

She left him in there. Billy leaned his ear against the door. All he could hear was sobbing. Then he heard sirens. Red lights flashed on the blinds. His mom grabbed him and they watched grandpa get loaded into the back of the ambulance.

He overheard a doctor say his grandpa had what’s called an amerism. It’s when your brain stops working, his mom said. He learned later on in life his grandpa died from an aneurysm, not amerism. Something about that very word chilled him to the bone. Aneurysm. He felt lightheaded. Aneurysm…

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The second time he saw someone die was October 23rd, 2020. He was out jogging. A young girl was exiting a building up ahead. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. In one hand she held an iced coffee, and in the other she held a cell phone. She was half a block away, looking down at her phone when her knees buckled. The first thing to hit the pavement was her drink, which exploded. The next was her skull, which made a sickening, hollow thud as it connected with the concrete. Billy ran to her turning her over and shaking her.

“Ma’am can you hear me! Ma’am can you hear me!” He shouted.

No response.

“Hey! Help! Someone call 911! Please help ah fuck oh shit no no no GOD SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

His cry echoed off the buildings, but no one came. He lay his trembling fingers on the side of her throat and lowered his ear to her mouth. No pulse, no breathing. Another voice caromed off the buildings.

“Oh my god HELP! Someone help!”

And then another.

“Help!”

“Someone help!”

It was a chorus. Billy turned to run around the corner. He glanced back at the girl. She was gone. When he rounded he saw bodies strewn about. Their eyes were all open. They were as dead as that poor girl. And each of them was clutching their phone.

Article: The Attention Token has taken over advertising. At the current rate, people can make hundreds of dollars just by watching ads on their phones. How is this model sustainable? Dr. Dean Harding, had this to say. “Today, the world’s most valuable commodity is people’s attention. Hence, the token's name. The business model sounds outrageous because, for years, people’s attention was undervalued. The Attention model not only allows for more advertisements but also ones that are better calculated to hit target audiences. Advertisers can see what ads people engage with. Being paid also builds a relationship with the brand instantaneously. This innovation is a win-win, and I think it’s safe to say, this will change the world.” – The Weekly Letter, Sept 2020

Billy’s apartment was littered with dirty clothes, cigarette butts, and empty cans of Brickhouse ale. He had shut the drapes days ago, and they remained shut now. The door to his apartment was locked and a chair was jammed underneath the handle. He didn’t want to leave anytime soon. The world was mad. The death count was in the hundreds of millions when the power cut out. That was two hours after he saw the life go out of that poor girl. Her eyes had looked like his grandpas, the way they just stared off. That was what they all looked like.

When it happened, the streets exploded with fires and looting. The end times had come, actually come, and people realized all they had to eat was some avocados and hummus. Nothing non-perishable except maybe bars and cereal. Then the murders started. He heard the first gunshot across the street, probably coming from CVS. Every night was alive with sporadic gunfire after that. It reminded him of listening to fireworks on the 4th of July. Except this show didn’t end. The shootings moved from the streets to his neighbor’s rooms. He could hear doors being smashed open and the screaming of women and children. Then he heard the shooting.

“We are coming to you live with breaking news. Reports are coming in that millions have died after viewing a pop-up ad from the popular service Attention Token. On the scene in New York is Rachel Andrews, Rachel?”

“Hi Greg I’m here on the streets of New York where it is complete pandemonium. Thousands of bodies are lying on the streets and riots have broken out all over the city. Please! Don’t view any pop-ups from Attention. Don’t look at it just DON’T LOO-“

End Transmission.

They call themselves The Church. Billy heard them two doors down. He only caught bits and pieces. The man was saying something about finding salvation. Whatever the response was, they did not like it. The next thing he heard was a familiar sound, the smashing of a door, and the unloading of a pistol. Then they came knocking at his door.

A raspy voice called, “Rejoice, brothers and sisters, for we mean you no harm! The Lord has sent us to protect thee and guide thee through the last days. Let us go to him together as children in Christ. Amen.”

Silence.

“We know someone is in there. We can smell you heh heh. Give up your earthly possessions and come build your heavenly treasure!”

Billy found the courage to speak, “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“Oh brother, we certainly could if we wanted to, but our God is a just God. We believe in allowing people the chance to repent of their sins and join the church.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you shall be sent to the Lord for judgment, as so many sinners have already.”

Billy remained silent. He was trying to weigh his options and realized there wasn’t much to weigh. He had to leave his apartment soon. He was running low on food but couldn’t risk his life going outside all alone. He didn’t like it but…

“Ok… I-I guess…”

“Praise Jesus! Hallelujah! Come out my dear prodigal son and let us kill the fatted calf!”

Billy pulled the chair out from under the door handle, unlocked the deadbolt, and stepped outside. A middle-aged man dressed in white greeted him. His eyes were a piercing blue, which would have been pleasant, but they just seemed cold to Billy. The 3 people surrounding the man wore red, black, and pale robes. 

“Welcome my son, welcome! I am Father George, and we are the body of Christ.”

He gestured towards the men surrounding him, who returned solemn stares.

“Come, walk with us.”

The red and black men seized his arms and the pale man walked into his apartment. He began to smash everything inside with a baseball bat hidden in his robes. First was the TV, then his appliances. Billy gave Father George a look.

“You are to be cleansed of your sinful ways. The Lord has lain judgment upon mankind. Repent!”

Another smash resonated from his bedroom. It sounded like his AC unit had just met the pale man. He looked again at Father George. His blue eyes had never left him. He was smiling, revealing his yellow teeth.

“Repent and be saved.”

The events leading up to the great massacre are as follows. The origin of the virus is believed to be a data breach some months before the incident. The infection of users started immediately. The videos contained subliminal light sequences, almost invisible to the naked eye. Autopsies confirmed all deaths were caused via a massive brain aneurysm. On October 23rd, the kill switch flashed on screen, bursting blood vessels and drowning its users’ brains in blood. How could the sequence condition the brains in such a way? More to follow.

-   Found in the journal of Dr. William Faulk, Jun 2022

The accused wore hoods over their heads, their bodies grey and shriveled. They shook violently in the cold with nothing to protect their naked bodies.

“Behold! The wrath of God!” Father George’s voice bellowed.

Thunderous applause followed. Hundreds of followers gathered to witness justice. Two people had been found on the outskirts of town, caught with a small radio they were using to broadcast. The couple fought to keep the radio, saying they were using it to track down more survivors.

“The Lord hath cast judgment upon the sinners. He has made his decree. Death to those that love thy own creations more than thy Lord. Death… to the Technologists!”

More applause. Billy looked around him. People were foaming at the mouth, their faces lusting for blood. This was the third execution this week. At least this one was for a marginally legitimate reason, if there is such a thing. The other two seemed to be purely random. Father George had grabbed them yelling something about He who commits a sin in his heart has committed a sin in the eyes of God, or something like that. The result was terrifying. Almost instant execution. No trial. No nothin’. The worst part was no one seemed to care. All people did was forage, engage in activities to ensure the longevity of the human race (so much for being children of God), and slept. Once Father George’s hoarse voice echoed off the buildings, everyone came running. Something to do! Blood! Judgment! The people were salivating, their eyes crazed.

Father George had the prisoners kneeling in front of the wooden restraints. One of the “projects for the Lord” had been to build “better instruments for His judgment”. The dual slotted guillotine towered in the square. The two slots ensured the executions would always come in pairs. Billy thought Father George would say some bullshit like, “The Lord's judgment shall be paid in full.” It never mattered what he said. It was always just something to help the rest of the people rationalize what was about to happen.

The man in red clamped the prisoner’s heads in place. They both looked terrified, of course, they always did at this point. It was as if up until now they didn’t believe it was real, like someone was going to save them. When the wooden restraints nestled against their necks, it became real. They were going to die. And according to Father George, they were about to meet the big guy and he was not happy.

“His justice cometh, and it shall be swift!”

The crowd roared, waving their hands in the air as if they were at a rock concert. The mighty steel blade inched skyward, pulled by a thick piece of cargo rope. The screams from the man looked to be getting louder, more desperate, but it was drowned out by the ravenous buzz of the crowd. The hum grew louder the higher the blade rose. The woman looked straight ahead, never once moving her eyes. Right at the apex, the blade was let go and went into free fall. Billy averted his eyes but couldn’t escape the sound. It was just like the sound the girl's head made on the pavement, but deeper and louder. Billy could feel it in his chest like the bass from a speaker.

The crowd was delirious. Billy looked up once he was sure the worst was over and saw Father George standing on the platform. He had his hand raised, and in his clutches was the curly hair of the man. He looked triumphant.

Billy’s eyes drifted to the guillotine, looming behind Father George. I wonder when it will be my turn. Then, a thought began to beckon at him. He stood there as people peeled off to sleep. Thinking, not able to get it out of his head.

“I shall make you into a great nation, Billy.”