What is it about Guilt that has everyone all worked up?
She put her phone down, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot from the strain, but she couldn't stop reading; The contents of the thread were disgustingly morbid.
The virus turns the host's body into a weapon against itself.
While initially horrifying, she knew it wasn't anything to be alarmed by. It's just the description of some autoimmune disease or just one of those fucked up augmented reality games. Nothing to actually get worried about... right?
'Geez,' she thought, leaning back in her chair, 'if this 'Guilt' virus was actually a real thing, I can't even fathom the chaos that would happen.'
that didn't stop her imagination from running rampant, though, trying to imagine the reaction of the masses. Maybe it would be something like the reaction to the Ebola outbreak? That certainly was a strange thought; imagining all the panic from the Ebola outbreak years prior happening all over again. When news of Ebola first broke out, everyone was convinced the virus was going to engulf the US– that's how the media had portrayed it, anyways– but of course it never did. That didn't stop the tidal wave of mass hysteria that flooded the US, though. The idea of such a thing happening again, the idea of a super mutant, man-created virus that was capable of causing so much havoc... it was truly a chilling thought.
But she was no stranger to the internet. She was well familiar with the first unspoken rule; you can't believe everything you hear. She felt the saying was especially true for the stuff that was hidden in the dark, damp and somewhat sketchy recesses of 4chan.
Erin glanced at the time and heaved a tired sigh, her trembling and overworked hands closing her laptop and slipping it into its case. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and gave a momentary glance towards the medicine bottle sitting on the coffee table. She wondered if she should stay home today. She wasn't quite feeling her best, plus it would give her an excuse to look more into this blatantly false yet intriguing story...
She shook her head. 'Time won't stop moving for the flu, so why should it stop moving for some stupid virus?' She sighed, her boney pale fingers hiking the bag's strap up higher on her shoulder as she stepped into her shoes. Her mind wouldn't leave the thought of this 'Guilt', though.
'Ugh. Relax, Erin. It's not even real. Just... don't worry about it.'
She opened her apartment door, jerking to a halt mere feet from the doorway.
"Phone," she said, "phone, phone... right, can't forget the phone." She mumbled to herself, spinning around on her heel to walk back over to the small coffee table. She spotted the item and swiped it off the table, putting it securely in her pocket.
'Right. Okay.' She patted herself down, mentally going through the list of necessities one last time before deeming herself ready for the day. With one final glance back at her mostly-clean apartment, she closed the door and began her rhythmic, daily route down to the metro.
The possibility of it being an ARG seemed rather reasonable, from what she had read about these types of games, they always seemed to begin with a random post on the internet or some unsettling interaction between a group of users. Yes, it was well within the realm of possibilities.
She snapped back to reality as she stepped onto the concrete platform, waiting in the bright yellow lines that partitioned off each boxcar.
She unconsciously glanced at the people around her, feeling very much at odds with the normalcy in their behavior. Their obliviousness to this whole thing was mildly frightening. Logically, she knew this was due to the fact that they had no idea about this whole 'Guilt' thing, and given the fact that it wasn't even real, but it didn't stop her mind from worrying, for some reason. What would happen if the media caught wind of this? What would happen when the rumor of the virus reached the masses?
She shook her head again. She had to keep reminding herself that this virus wasn't real. It wasn't even believable!
Well, no, that wasn't quite true, was it? There were certain aspects of the 4Chan posts that caught her attention. Some of the details were just... too specific, too believable. It was almost certain to just be another internet hoax, but... but something about those posts peaked her interest. It compelled her to find more information about this virus.
The train squealed to a stop in the station. Her jet black kitten-heeled boots stepped up from the train platform onto the train itself. The space was cramped and congested, as expected for this time of day. She squeezed herself into the crowded terminal, pulling out her phone and bringing up the same 4Chan post from before. Her eyes never left the screen during the entire commute. Sure, she was pushed and shoved, but she was quite used to it.
They believe that medicine has broken the laws of natural selection.
The girl's brow furrowed in both disgust and morbid intrigue as her eyes scanned the text. Surely this couldn't be real, right? Who would even post such a thing? Who would believe something like that, anyway?
Her eyes lit up suddenly. Writing a piece on this insanity of a story... It seemed like a perfect idea.
Before she knew it, her mind was swirling with ideas, possibilities, leads...
'Woah, woah. Back up there, Erin. Gotta cover the bases first.'
Right, remember, Ethos, Pathos, Logos.
Well, pathos and logos were already pretty well established, but what about the credibility? After all, what was a good story without some believability to it?
It was always a good idea to search for a primary source of information. Although she supposed the post technically counted as a primary source, it barely held any credibility to it. After all, it was 4Chan she was dealing with. But tracking down and talking to the author directly– putting a face and a name to these radical claims– well, that could be quite the catch if she wanted to write about this.
She grabbed a cheap black pen out of her bag and jotted a few notes on her forearm.
'track down author' she scribbled down.
All too soon the train lurched to a stop, the monotone voice overhead announcing her stop. She pushed her way off the small car with the rest of the commuters and let her mind wander as she made her way into the office on autopilot. After all, she had no need to be mindful of the direction she was going after all these months.
Her bag slammed down onto her minimally occupied desk. The only things there were her laptop and her thermos, with all of her writing utensils, chucked into a drawer underneath.
Without a moment of hesitation, she ripped her laptop out of its protective case, booted it up, and got to work on her new project.
