The End of the World as Eve Knows It

The way it had always been done was the way that makes the most sense. No one is allowed to change the way it had been done, not at the cost of sanity. Eve cricked her neck to the side. Feelings should not get in the way of progress, she thought as she puttered around the kitchen.

The world was ending. Humans were ruled by their hearts. Eve needed a cure. She could not let the madness take over.

She carefully wiped the scalpel on her lab coat and hummed gently.

It was something in their blood. She was sure. Something was in the blood of humans, causing this madness. It made sense. Blood was in the heart and brain, and those were the problems. Many tests had proved this hypothesis.

Eve tried not get the disease herself. It was hard, as a doctor, to avoid disease, almost futile.

After months of contact with the disease, she began to think she was immune.

She tested her own blood and found nothing indicating a resistance.

Eve knew in her mind two things at this moment. One, there must be something in her blood that caused her to be safe. Two, once she found it, she would have a cure.

The tests were grueling.

They weakened her too much. What good was an experiment with no one to interpret the results?

She needed someone else who should have the disease, but did not.

That is when Katie walked into her life. Katie with her face, her sick father, and her perfect blood. Katie was willing to do anything to help the sick. Her compassion slightly sickened Eve, but she also found it endearing. After all, what was a scientist without a test subject?

Eve poured the last drops into the beaker. Katie was kind when it was unnecessary. It was an attractive quality in a woman and soon Eve found herself drawn to Katie, outside of the experiments. She reasoned it as a necessary relaxant. And, she knew, humans needed relaxants, otherwise they could start to let emotions rule their decisions.

But then Katie got nervous. She thought Eve was being reckless and unsafe. She had started to let her emotions make her decisions and that would not do. She became unnecessary and dangerous. Eve had to get rid of her. Hard, but necessary. She could not risk it, not when all of humanity was resting on her shoulders.

Eve measured out the blue liquid. She watched as Mrs. Kenworth’s sprinklers turned on, but no Mrs. Kenworth! She had been dead for weeks, after Batch 57 did not work. That had been one of Eve’s most disappointing failures. She had been so close, but the disease still took Mrs. Kenworth. Batch 60 was going to be better. It had to be better. She was running out of test subjects and clean blood.

The radio switched on behind her, buzzing with dead air. A man’s voice crackled on, announcing where it was still safe. Announcing the fatality count. Eve quickened her pace. Little Johnny succumbed to the disease outside. Confirmation Batch 59 did not work. She had been slipping it to him, against his mother’s wishes. She figured as much. But she was getting closer.

Batch 60 was still boiling. Eve crept upstairs. There were about a dozen of her patients still struggling for life behind the quarantine glass. She carefully extracted blood from the closest one, the vial filling with the purple liquid. The woman groaned. Eve patted her arm.

“Your suffering will soon be over,” she murmured. She trotted back downstairs where Batch 60 was ready. She smiled.

The cure was twofold. Make it cure the sick, and make it not affect the uninfected. She could not always use injections, a gas must be made. She could not worry about some people not breathing it in.

Eve remember a few months ago, Batch 45. Batch 45 seemed to work for the most part, but it affected the uninfected and that was not pretty. Forget Batch 57, that had been the most disappointing trial. For what was the point of curing people if it killed everyone else? And she had been almost there. She looked out the window and saw life slipping through her fingers. She had to hurry.

Eve took the syringe and squirted the blood into the frothing green sea. She watched as the cure ate up the swirling purple and smiled. This could finally be it.

Eve poured the cure into a syringe. Clara from next door waved and smiled at her, taking her poodle out for a run before the sun set. Eve smiled. It was okay to show a little emotion at such a joyous time. But she could not get ahead of herself. There were still two tests to do.

She wished Katie could have still been with her.

The sun was setting on humanities last day of suffering. Eve went upstairs to the quarantine. Gently, she lifted the woman’s arm, injecting her with the cure. Quickly, she fizzled out and Eve watched as her color changed. Cured the sick. Downstairs, Eve emptied the last bit of Katie’s blood into the cure. Nothing happened. Eve felt a rise of excitement. She filled another syringe, took a deep breathe and went outside.

            The world was dying. The cure would take hold immediately. Mrs. Kenworth’s death happened weeks after Eve had exposed her to the cure. Little Johnny, days. Now mere seconds. Her progress was nice and linear.

The diseased would be wiped out. The world would be safe again. The radio crackled out a death toll, mentioning Little Johnny and asking for information on Katie James.

Eve injected her own arm.

The green liquid spurted into her veins. Eve stumbled to where Katie’s bones lay. Clara came home from her run and watched as Eve fell to the ground atop the freshly overturned grass. The world spun and turned black. She supposed she had not been as careful with exposure as she thought. Police sirens blared.

The world was silent. Nothing moved. Eve lay glassy-eyed and mouth agape.

The radio crackled the death toll. He noted there was no longer need to fear, the world was safe. The last death had occurred.