Fantasy Totum revolutum

[Featherstone]

There was one sick person as of some time earlier that day, or at least one known one. If everyone showed symptoms within a few hours--say, four to six--of contracting the disease, then, if he got everyone back into any sort of isolation or quarantine, he had a chance at stopping this disease before everyone was dead, and two to fourish days until the first of the diseased died. The simple fact of the matter was that, unless he got the crowds under control, there'd be no one to save in a week's time. Less, even. So, if he could have everyone instantly work with him, what would he do?

His first priority was time. He couldn't save anyone if he didn't have the time to develop a system of treatment. Time was earned through preventing, to the best of his ability, infection. Caine wasn't about to deal with the population for him, which meant he had to take it upon himself, and the longer he waited, the worse it was probably going to be. If that failed, then he wasn't sure there was much hope at all--any course of action was all but pointless if the entire town was dead before it could be useful, which left him only one viable option: go outside and try to reverse the damage he'd done in the hopes that he could get people back on his side. Even if he didn't know who was sick and who wasn't, if he could get people to stop interacting with each other, or minimize it as far as possible, he might at least be able to get a fraction of the population stable. Rats were still a problem. Other vectors, too, perhaps, but he couldn't exactly go around town killing every rodent. No, the most surety came in convincing the people to do his work with him.

Of course, there were two main problems with this: first, he, as Gregor Caine had pointed out, was not a people person; secondly, he'd already fucked his position with them over royally. He didn't know what their issues were because he hadn't bothered to hear them. Undoubtedly, someone would raise the question of where he'd been when he should've been at the Cathedral, which was the most difficult to answer of all--he had fucked it up. In his own head, he knew this to be partly due to delirium and exhaustion, but the truth was that he'd forgotten, and he couldn't say that and expect anyone to have any trust in him. What would Carter do, he wondered, and had no answer there, either.

"Well, thank you for your time, sir," he finally said. "I have a mob to win over. Good luck. You might need it more than I do."

Farewell uttered, Noah turned away. If Gregor wasn't going to enact a quarantine, then he'd do his damnedest to do it himself. It was the only way, unless there was an instant miracle-cure someplace. He closed the door again behind him and only dipped his head to the clerks in acknowledgement on the way by. Settled his hat back on his crown, grabbed the front door's handle, steeled himself for whatever the fuck was going to come his way, and then pushed it open and stepped through.

If there was a God, then would've been a good time for Him to make Himself known.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The Judge nodded to the man. "I'd argue about luck, but there is not time for that. Thank you for coming over. I hope you'll find what you're seeking.", it sounded that he didn't mean the sick and infected, but something else. Given how everybody wanted him to give up, it was most certainly something like 'strength to accept things'.

He walked through the building, and the air felt like honey - thick and sticky - almost dragging him back. Something influenced him in here. Maybe some sort of incense? Maybe an opiate? time seemed to slow down around him, making his head feel big, and soft, and pulsing. The light behind the doors didn't blind him, but blurred everything for a moment, and when he stepped outside, everything suddenly fell onto him: the pictures, the smells, the sounds. It seemed like getting out of water - only the edge was that door to the Judge's house.

And as he did, he got immediately surrounded, cornered, almost pinned down by the crowd that seemed to grow in number. They didn't scream, but absolutely used higher tones at him in a big cacophony that mixed together into something incoherent. "Did you forget about us?", he heard stray phrases. "Do you even have family?", and "You probably don't do that yourself!", and "It has been two days!". Noah was lucky that the first few rows of people surrounding him were women - not as physical and aggressive as men - which only resorted to accusations, thus, no punches were thrown yet. In his experience, men would hit first and ask questions later. Lout ans oxen, as Matches said. It wasn't too nice to generalise too - being someone who lived in the Capital for the last few years, he knew this was a false route to take - however, given certain orthodox nature of town, the fact he got attacked by female population first, meant it had something to do with families or children. If it would've been about material goods, he'd be probably attacked by the other half. As it was, it seemed like these were wives and mothers, that dragged out their husbands, sons, and brothers to help, who didn't quite want to be here, but empathised nonetheless, and took some of the irritation.

 

[Featherstone]

He nearly flinched back when he was bombarded by the group sweeping down upon him, but held his ground in spite of the tension that visibly overtook him. Being crowded was better than getting stoned, however, and he took this as a win. This time, he made no attempt to shove through them. Instead, he pulled back a couple steps, raising his arms slightly as if in surrender. He couldn't say what he'd forgotten--unless they meant the Cathedral--nor could he tell what he'd done, precisely, to warrant their wrath, unable to make out much specificity through the din.

"Wait! Please! I'm here to listen, but I can only hear one voice at a time," he said, raising his voice above the clamour, gesturing for them to bring the volume down.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Unfortunately, Noah didn't specify whose voice was that 'one' he could hear. While some people lowered their voices, and some closed their mouth completely, others started going about their bothers, and just talking louder whenever they thought they weren't heard. Which was pretty much always, as they spoke over each other, few voices combining into one mess. Nonetheless, it was enough to at least make out the basics of what was wrong.

Apparently, a day before the lockdown, the orderlies went house-to-house, collecting all the food in the district to lock it up in the last grocery store. As far as Noah remembered, this was for both safety and portioning. People remembered, this was to wait through an 'incubation period' of the sickness, which wasn't entirely right, but not wrong either: without a host, the infection shouldn't be able to survive for too long, so if any of it was left on scavenged meat or milk, it was better to wait it out.

They all could live for a day hungry, but it was nearing two days by now, and they didn't know what to tell their kids. Matches didn't seem bothered, but he must've gone for longer without any food, given his circumstances, but now as Noah thought about it, Blacky did seem quite pale. And the crowd was furious: they could get behind needing to ration what they have left - maybe some of the older children could too - but it was nearing the point when they were starting to panic; and when that happens, they'd probably just break in and rob the grocery. And, of course, given that Noah gave almost all the orders these days, they blamed him first, and the Judge second - hence why they gathered at the doors of Caine's household.

 

[Featherstone]

Food rationing. Noah's gaze went back to the door behind him in a silent wish that the Judge was on his side with this, but it seemed pointless to try to get him to assist. Noah didn't have the time to go through all the food they had and get an inventory and ration, and most of the orderlies were gone--the clerks, though...When he'd walked in, they hadn't been doing anything but exchanging and debating conspiracy theories. And if anyone was capable of recording things and doing division, it was probably a clerk. If they needed more hands, he could enlist the orderlies, or perhaps even simple townsfolk, but it had to be certain that anyone who was handling food wasn't sick. Better to start small. The original population of this place had been around two thousand; now, it was three times that. Most people had stored food, amounting to what he guess would last a few days. With the population tripled, it might last one, two if they were lucky.

Raising the volume of his speech to be heard again, he started to speak. "Alright, alright!" The man's eyes fell to his watch, then came up again. "We don't have very much to go around, but your families will get fed, I promise. Come to the store in..." How long did he need? He had to get people there to pass out food, people who could portion it out and not be persuaded by any pathos to give people more than was their share. He'd rationed before, but it was with a crew of a dozen people, nothing like this. Did he have to worry about people rioting? He'd always taken orders from someone above him--Carter, a sergeant, someone, and now, suddenly, he was at the top, and he didn't even have the Judge to turn to. "Four hours." Longer than he needed--or so he hoped--but fast enough that people wouldn't be stuck in the dark. "No one's going to starve today."

Alright; he could get a few of the clerks onto inventory, since they weren't doing anything inside, and leave one behind here at Gregory Caine's house in case something came up. Once they had numbers and could start distributing, he'd get volunteers--orderlies, probably, since they understood the sickness better than most, and would likely adhere to his instructions--to bring food to waiting people, and keep a distance from the population and their food. It would make it harder for anyone to contaminate their sole source of nutrition and for any people hoping to dip in twice to do so. After he had his people clear on the plan, he could move on and try to figure out how to get the citizens into a quarantine. If they came for rations, he might be able to get enough of the town in one place to address them about the issue, but...well, with Caine having actively lifted the thing, he wasn't sure what success he'd have. Then again, those who refused a quarantine weren't likely to live very long, and those in isolation would be decreasing their own risk of catching it as much as they'd be negating the possibility of their transmitting it; it might give him something to work with in the coming weeks.

It wasn't much of a plan, but Noah concluded it was enough for now. How he was supposed to manage a town, an infection, and a cure on his own, he had no idea, but keeping people from trying to kill him was a start.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Noah's words did bring some relief to the people, albeit didn't calm them down entirely. Four hours! That was quite late. It would be afternoon at that point, sun starting to set. What did they even do to that, they asked. Why did they all have to spend money stocking in overpriced groceries if you'd be taking it away. They have been hosting people in their houses, letting them take more space than the apartments possibly had - wasn't that enough? And how do they even know anything would change in our hours - people had to storm the Cathedral from the inside to get out, as no one really bothered to check in on them. How would they know they wouldn't be fed promises? This is how bandits and arsonists appeared, they said. Because instead of making it easier on them, those with power made it harder. There was an epidemic already, and now they take away their houses and their food, and then forget about it?

 

[Featherstone]

Nothing could go fast enough. Noah threw his voice out again before a prolonged silence could trigger more insistent protests, trying to think more quickly than he spoke. "I understand that times are stressful and you've all given more than you have. Please recognize that we are contending with a force that is a legitimate threat to everyone--young and old alike--and that no one has a key to fix this in an instant. Your sacrifices work to ensure the very survival of the entire community. No one person is getting any more resources than the last. I know that the way things have gone has...left things to be desired, but I assure you, we are working to ensure that no mishaps are repeated." We, he said, as if there was more than one of him. "The more we can cooperate with each other, the more of us live until tomorrow. I will work as quickly as I can to get rations out but I am only a single man. Even a doctor can't be in more than one place at once. With any luck, food will start being distributed before four hours is up. Right now, the goal is to minimize infection and ration resources so that no one starves. A cure is useless if there's no one to save."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Words were good, but Noah did have to support them with actions - unless those four hours would be enough to figure everything out. Of course, these people wouldn't stay hungry - if he won't deliver on the promise, they would surely storm the shop just like the quarantined people stormed the doors of the Cathedral.

Those words about cooperation should've been met with approval, however, the crown fished out something else from them: what infection? Weren't they safe out here? Did infected somehow ran through the barricades? Did this mean everything was for nothing? Did that mean the quarantine wasn't working? Should they just run into the hills?

 

[Featherstone]

Fuck. Of course. They didn't know what he did. Was lying the best option here, or was that doomed to fail? With how swift the disease was, it'd be made apparent within twenty-four hours, if that, that the disease had made it to their last sanctum. I'm offended, the bird's words rang in his ears, raising goosebumps on the base of his neck. No. This wasn't going to be made easy at all.

"Everything is not for nothing, nor is it doomed, as we can very much persevere, but only through careful adherence to protocol," he said, wishing that Caine was the one presenting this news instead of him and wondering if this was even the right thing to do. What would he do if they panicked? But if he told them a lie, then would they ever trust him with anything again, after the fuck-up with the Cathedral? "There is a possibility that it is in our midst, but it is not out of hand and it will not be the end of us--and I have not yet confirmed it. The sand pest is not a divine providence or punishment; it is a regular occurrence that epidemics occur, and so far, we have found medicine for them--smallpox, typhoid, the Blue Death--and this will be no different. Quarantine is the reason we aren't all already infected--that in and of itself should assure you of its effectiveness. As much as possible, people should avoid contact with one another and with dogs, rats, cats, squirrels, and mammals in general. Everyone who is able should cover their nose and mouth with any kind of covering available to prevent transmission or contraction if they go out, and as much as can be done, people should stay home. It is not yet rampant here, but if we take measures now, we prevent it from becoming an issue rather than trying to fight something we can't see. I assure you, with proper rationing, quarantining, and protocol, we are capable of overcoming this."

Let that be enough. He had no idea what he was doing here. The largest groups he talked to were in front of class in his youth. He wasn't a writer, a speaker, a leader. He didn't know what would panic them and what wouldn't, what as too much to say and what wasn't enough.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Some would say half-trues were lies. Others would say they were truth. Some people in the crowd were from the other side of the river, and they knew that quarantining and rationing didn't help the rest of the city - so why would it help here? Others had no idea about the measures taken there, and took the words to heart. Either way, at least now the general mood was fear, and not anger. They might start to panic, but they at least won't start stoning Noah any more. At least, not until someone would blame him again, like people did in his dream; or like they did now - with the rations.

The prospect of there being a sick one among them, a carrier of the infection, scared them to no end. Even now, Noah could see suspicious glances thrown into one another, people trying to pinpoint any signs of the illness in their neighbour. So someone got sick, someone in the crowd asked. What if they get sick? The pest ate away at two thirds of their town, and destroyed more than four quarters of the streets. Their production was gone, their factories were gone, their homes were gone. What do they do when someone falls into delirium? When someone starts burning out? This conversation swiftly turned from the one about rations to one about surviving the infection. They might have forgotten about the food to give to their families now, but started thinking about an outburst soon to come.

 

[Featherstone]

He felt their fear. Didn't blame them for it. Hell, it was in him, too, if in a more controlled fashion. His nightmares were a testament to that even if he didn't speak it. His sentiments weren't wholly without truth but even he knew of their relative hollowness: he was grasping at straws as much as they were, clinging to a false hope that this district would be different than other because he was there. He didn't quite believe it himself. But now, like in war, it didn't matter if he thought he could win--it was a matter of fighting the battle for the chance of it, not the likelihood.

"Thank you for your willingness to speak," he said, dipping his head to the crowd, out of courtesy if nothing else. Then, with no more questions being hurled his way, he turned, opening the door to Caine's house again. He didn't step all the way through and close it, only lingered in the entry and rapped loudly on the door frame to get the clerks' attention. "Unless you have actual work here, I need your help elsewhere," Noah stated. "I wouldn't normally ask but I simply don't have enough hands as it is. We need to inventory what food we have, so you can put those pencils of yours to good use in preventing a riot."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Lazily, blond head of one of the clerks turned to him, looking at the man with slight lack of understanding, as if it took him a while to translate the words in his head. As if he didn't understand what food was the man talking about, and what inventory was. However, as the picture combined in his head, he nodded. "Where is it?", he asked slowly. When no inside, it was painfully obvious how long it took for people to do anything inside. If not the clearness of mine, then clearness of speech in Caine was astonishing given how the environment influenced he rest of them. Or maybe, if not for this apathy atmosphere in the house, he's be rampant, hyperactive, always on the move, and it was made on purpose to subdue him. Maybe, in time, he became immune to it, and it only influenced outsiders. Or maybe, it was all in their heads, and they just felt pressure being in the house of someone who was said to be immortal.

 

[Featherstone]

"The grocery. Down the street and to the left. I need you guys to figure out what we have and how much we can afford to give out tonight. I'll find some orderlies to help and leave them instructions for passing the food around," he explained, slowing down his speech somewhat to ensure that nothing was lost in torpid translation. Noah had no desire to stay in that molasses, muddied space for any longer than he had to, nor to waste any time. When he got the orderlies onto rationing according to an actual protocol, he could move on. To what, though, he wasn't certain. He wasn't sure what he could hope to find in the Cathedral--even if there were infected there, what could it possibly tell him about the disease?--and there was no un-doing it, so wasting time trying to work out the details of it seemed unlikely to yield useful results. He'd tell the orderlies about the supposed miracle girl and try to get people there as soon as he could to start identifying sick people and getting them into quarantine, but if he got rid of her, odds were it'd cause more issues than it'd solve, and she surely didn't have answers to a cure. So far the only ones to survive this were the locals--the barbarians with their recently deceased and "ritual dances and such," to use the orderly's words.

Would it be any worse to go there than anywhere else? And if they'd died horribly, could it be another infected--maybe even the infected? It was a long shot, but was it any longer than anything else at this point? Gregory Caine wasn't wrong when he'd said that they knew something the civilized folk didn't. So that would be his plan for now, then. Rations, orderlies, barbarians.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"A-a-all right...", the man dragged out words on top of already being slow, and it sounded sugary, almost mocking. He slowly stood up, lazily grabbing his notebook, an a couple of cheap pencils, as if he couldn't feel his body, and movement was too slow and strained. It seemed like he should've put too much force into moving.

Unfortunately for Noah, he didn't know where the last orderlies were. Of course, as he exited the building, forcing his way through the crowd, he had noticed the tired one from before still being near a Cathedral. His beaked mask curiously peeked inside, looking around, as armed militia men to the left and right of him stood there, eyeing him with strained mistrust.

 

[Featherstone]

The tone of the clerk wasn't one that Noah was certain he could interpret as friendly, but he didn't bother sticking around to deal with it. There were more pressing concerns than the man's cordiality. This dealt with, he turned back to shoulder through the crowd.

Noah quickly descended upon the orderly, wasting no time; it was already borrowed, as every tick from his watch strained to remind him. "Excuse me," he said, trying to draw the orderly's attention. He brought a faint, apologetic smile to his lips. "I'm afraid our work isn't done yet." His tone was muted, neither obtrusive nor inaudible, in an attempt to keep from disturbing them more than he had to. Once he had their attention, he continued on: "Rations need to be distributed, but I've reason to believe that the pest is within the walls. I need whatever orderlies are still around to go to the grocery to distribute food--I want to minimize civilian contact with food, and am otherwise rather short on hands. If you could get whatever orderlies you can and go there...I just need people to bring the food the clerk is rationing to the civilians, people who won't be liable to contaminate the town's food supply."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The bird head nodded. "I was thinking going away to the other districts myself, but if you think that is better, I think I can do that. However, we had a disagreement, so I'm not sure how they'd react to this order, but I'll do my best. Should't've finished with their things yet.", he said, nodding seemingly nowhere in particular, before looking around in the sky in search of the smoke trail. "You took the news of papers being burned quite well too. Though I suppose you made copies, now when I think about it. Never good to keep only one copy of anything important, right?", he seemingly wasn't eager to go to his comrades and tell about the help needed, but didn't reject the order as well.

 

[Featherstone]

"If you can't get them, then just go back and do what you can with who's there. Grab more clerks if you need to, they're not doing anything. I told the townsfolk four hours, and I'd rather not have a riot because we run late, so prioritize speed the best you can. And yes, I keep tables of most of the information myself, for fear of mistakes being made in others' hands." The journal in his bag was now worth more than almost anything he had. The only source of actual, hard data. People here--did they want to die? "I'm sorry to put this on you. I'd do it myself, but there's so little time..." His voice trailed off, eyes darting to the sky in a habitual following of the other's gaze. "Thank you. I'm off to see what I can find out about whatever the locals are doing--something has to be going right, given that they aren't dropping like all the rest of us."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Of course.", he nodded. "I shall.", he seemed to be one of those bootlickers mentioned by Orderly Eight. At least, Noah had one person to help out. Clacking the wooden soles on the pavement, the orderly clumsily got off the stairs, nodding. " So you're not going to look at those two?", he asked, nodding inside the Cathedral. Whether or not he expected an answer, he still proceeded, turning his attention to a private cemetery on the opposite side of a island from where Noah was going to go. It was a private one, with a few large, exquisitely made tombs, and looked more like a park than a place where dead rested. "I have asked for the kids to scout the district for the house we need, so it shouldn't be hard to find, group of kids hanging around it and such; but they might want something in return, like some candy, or some nuts, or maybe a bottle of milk.", he warned. "Good luck with the locals, though."

 

[Featherstone]

Those two? His heart sank when the realization struck him that there was more that needed his attention, but he couldn't very well leave patients unseen. He resolved that he'd be swift. And pick up some nuts or candy or milk if he could--maybe he could stop by the grocery and grab a couple? but the thought of getting into the rations was an unpleasant one. He dipped his head to the orderly, then; "Good luck with the others. Sounds like you'll need it." At this point, they all could.

This done, he strode to the door of the Cathedral and peered within to identify whoever it was that apparently needed his attention. Patients, then the locals. Payment somewhere in the middle.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Earlier this morning when Noah looked in, the place was empty - or maybe he just didn't give it a good enough look - but now he clearly saw two people, sitting on the opposite side of one of the benches. It was obvious that it was thrown around during the small riot, but found and placed back, as it took up the most unconventional and obvious place for a bench in a church or a temple to be, standing almost in the middle of a spacious room. Those two seemed to be at odds as well, turning their backs to each other, showing they weren't talking. And they almost looked like actors in a small theatre play that was going to start any second now, getting on their place and in the mood for a scene.

 

[Featherstone]

Noah checked his watch again, as if the repeated action would somehow slow time's eternally forward motion, and then bit back a sigh and strode inside. He cleared his throat to attract their attention upon his entrance. "Excuse me? Are you two in need of any assistance?" he asked, hoping that the answer would be no. Neither struck him as obviously injured or in severe need of help--both were in a state of some drama, and he very much hoped that that was the end of the story. Or whatever part of the story that fell onto his shoulders. With any luck, they might have something to tell him about what happened, too, and shed any light on what had happened. The fact he hadn't seen them before was curious but Noah didn't put much thought to it--he'd been in a rush, and they might've been on the floor or otherwise not particularly noticeable. It made sense that he would've overlooked them while so preoccupied in his near-panic.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Both faces turned to him, and Noah recognised the man and the woman. It was the siblings that have been on the periphery doing their best to help people around. His dream turned them into his assistants. What were their named again?

"Yes.", the man stood up. "I have returned from the infected districts yesterday, and felt just fine, but today woke up with fever, and... they said you made an isolated ward here for anyone with the suspicion of the pest, so I came in. The doors were... well, open by then, but I didn't know where else to go.", he shrugged, spreading his hands a little, in a gesture of absolute bewilderment.

"Well, if he has the pest, so do I.", his sister replied, sounding more like a stubborn child than actually a concerned family member. "We live together, eat together, we do everything together. If he somehow got it, I got it as well."

The man sighed in response, hiding his face in his hands. It was obvious that this was the reason of their argument and why they were so demonstrative in the way they didn't talk to each other.

 

[Featherstone]

Ah. So, these were some of the infected. It was slightly disconcerting to see them here, now, after the twisted nightmare--but that was all it was. A dream. "You were right to do so," he assured. "I wish everyone was so quick to come when they realized their symptoms." And so easy to keep in one spot. "It's...the closest we have to a ward now, at any rate. Have either of you had any cough, chest pain, trouble breathing or shortness of breath, blood in your saliva or phlegm, watery mucous, headaches, or particular weakness? And neither of you have spoken to the Judge, have you?" If they were, that meant that he might have found his singular case. He hoped so. Didn't believe it, but hoped.

He pulled his scarf off as he spoke, wrapping it around the lower half of his face in a makeshift mask and knotting it to keep it from slipping before approaching. It wasn't optimal, but it was better than nothing at all. He proceeded to roll up the sleeves to his jacket and only then did he come to stand between the two, setting his bag on the bench and retrieving his stethoscope.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

They listened to Noah, the man's eyes widening a little, as if he didn't expect such questions being thrown at him. "Well, yes, I...", he has been feeling uneasy. "I have been having... most of the symptoms you've descried. I was thinking that I... really wouldn't want to burn down in delirium like other people, and maybe I should go out, and just let the militia...", he doubted what to say later. He had hoped, it seemed, that they'd follow the orders of not letting anyone out, and would just shoot him, but the broken doors and the lack of patients here suggested otherwise.

"Oh, don't listen to him, doctor.", the girl rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's got a sand pest, but he just dramatises. He's got phthisis. Not the first time I see it, not the first day he's had it.", she seemed to want to say something else, but looked at her brother, and changed her mind, obviously concerned about hurting him.

 

[Featherstone]

"Alright, well, there's no need to get too worked up about it yet," he assured, perfectly calm regardless of the words. Responding with nervousness rarely helped such a situation, and even if the man had been contemplating suicide, he obviously wasn't trying that hard--a lot of people thought about it, but far fewer followed through, and he had his sister to nag at him about it anyways. "A lot of respiratory diseases exhibit those symptoms, and the pest is no different. Phthsis isn't off the table. Could you tell me how long these symptoms have lasted?" he asked. "Any loss of appetite or weight loss?"

He came to stand before Murad, gaze flickering to his sister for a minute. If he had a history of phthsis, then it seemed a likely culprit, though he had to be curious towards whatever she'd left unsaid. Whether or not it was relevant, he couldn't know, but even still... "I assure you, anything said here stays between us. It won't leave this room except as a statistic--that's part of my job here."