Final word count: 94,333
Favourite Line: “You’re a walking cliche, you know that?”
Favourite Scene: The one where Heather got bitten by a snake to protect her girlfriend.
Aaaaah I was beginning to think I’d never do it, but here it it! The first draft of Rabid is finally, officially, complete. There’s a whole lot of work still to do on it (honestly, this thing is a hot mess at this point), but first things first, I’m going to be taking a step back from the project for a while so I can come back to it later with a bit of perspective. Until then, I’ll be starting work on a new project, Chimera, so keep an eye out for that one!
Without further ado, here is the final excerpt of Rabid (for a while)
The intensive care ward was in the basement, about as far away from the rest of the hospital as you could get. When Skye opened the doors, it was pitch black inside; when Heather’s eyes adjusted, she saw the only illumination came from bright green exit signs, and a few dim lighting strips stuck along the walkway. Unlike the fluorescent lights outside, Heather found that these caused her eyes no pain.
“We keep it dark to prevent irritation to the patients,” Skye said, in a whisper. “The brighter light has actually been found to damage in the eyes in some cases, and in others the irritation it caused proved to provoke negative behaviour.”
Heather swallowed thickly, trying not to look. Casey’s eyes were darting all around, taking it all in, but Heather did not want to. She knew what she’d see.
But it was like trying not to slow down and look at a wreck on the side of the road. Inevitably, Heather looked up.
The walkway stretched clean through the ward, branching off in several places. The walls and doors were all made of thick glass, and in each room the glass around the door handle had been scratched.
These were not rooms. These were cells.
As Skye led them onwards, the scratches vanished. The interior of each cell was pitch black, the depths of each individual quarantine room obscured by shadows.
“We learned to stat restricting their movements.” Skye glanced to Heather. “For their own safety, of course. One of the queens tried to kill himself after only a few days down here, and othes were getting injured from throwing themselves at the doors.”
Heather shuddered.
She felt a strong pull towards one of the cells, a pull that she should’ve ignored but found she couldn’t. Casey tried to pull her onward, two hands on her wrist, but Heather planted her feet firm, the toes of her sneakers pressed agains the glass.
It came out of the darkness almost as quickly as it jerked to a halt. The queen splayed backwards, each of her limbs secured by a thick, padded restraint connected to a metal chain. She screeched, head hitting the concrete, before picking herself up and trying to rush Heather once more.
This was Heather’s future. This is what she would become.
“Why can’t I hear her?” Heather asked, searching for the almost familiar sensation of another voice in her mind, and finding none.
“The queens are kept medicated,” Skye explained. “It slows the deterioration of the brain and body, and it stops them influencing anyone. We had an incident a while back, when one of the queens got into a nurse’s head and freed herself.”
“What happened to her?” Casey asked.
Heather had leaned her forehead against the glass, reaching out with her mind to find any sign of life, or personality, in the girl inside. She found only hunger, and a haze of medication.
“She was one of the ones we lost to the cultists,” Skye said. “She was a lot like you friend here, actually.”
Before they could ask what he meant, the radio strapped to his belt cracked to life and let out a message horribly distorted by static.
“Blasted thing doesn’t work down here,” Skye said. “Come on, we’d better get out of here before feeding time. I need to see what that was about.”
Thank you so much to everyone who spurred me on to write those final few scenes, and who’s been giving me motivation since day one of this blog. I seriously never expected to find such an awesome community and I can’t say how amazing it is to be a part of it. Keep an eye out for updates on my new project!
Going into this internship, I expected to learn more about research and archival institutions over all. I wanted to learn something other than cataloging and customer service—something to round out my previous internship experience. After working with Invisible Histories for a semester, I can confidently say that my research and reference abilities are polished. Additionally, I have a better understanding of archives, the collections they value, and how to dig through them more efficiently.
That being said, I often felt a bit lost. I had a hard time figuring out what to prioritize, and I found that I did too much research in some areas and too little in others. I eventually found a steady routine, but a more clear outline from the beginning would've saved me a lot of time. Additionally, we were introduced to outreach emails later than I would've liked. I felt as though I was playing catch up near the end, trying to send out emails on archives I wanted to reach out to weeks ago.
Despite the minor difficulties, I thoroughly enjoyed familiarizing myself with archived Queer history. Southern Queer history is often painful, and it's important that we also recognize the wonderful things about Southern Queerness. From a professional standpoint, I became overly familiar with the terms used to identify Queer people. More outdated archives used homosexual, or sexual minorities. Others had Queer, LGBT, LGBTQ, LGBTQ+, and GLBT listed as different subjects in the same repository. It's a guessing game really, and one must try a variety of terms to get the results they need.
I also really appreciated getting another chance at publication. I published a journal article during my undergrad, and didn't know if I'd get another opportunity before graduation. The article I wrote for Invisible Histories is dedicated to my love of archives and their value to minorities. I emphasized that although archives are historically institutions of white supremacy, a well-managed modern archive does the opposite. Invisible Histories helps archives achieve that goal of modern representation, and I'm glad I was a part of it.
I will bring this experience with me as I begin my career. After graduation, I plan on relocating to Georgia—one of the Southern states that Invisible Histories operates in. While I have my eyes set on multiple repositories near Atlanta, I've considered working for IH again. Even in an unofficial capacity, contributing to IH would not only contribute to my career-building, but also bring me closer to my own history. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed my experience, and I hope my logs expressed that same joy!
After approximately three years and 15 days, the experimentation and upgrading on this android is complete.
It’s stubbornness thankfully died down halfway through the project, and it finally gave in. That and the amount of static I forced it’s way into it’s body. It only responds when spoken to, any autonomy is gone. As well as that, it has obeyed and comitted any action I gave it.
I even gave the command to rip off it’s own arm and it did so without any hesitation. It was quite amusing to say the least, how So obeying it can be now when in the start it just did things so hesitantly with bugs. Now it is bug free. I am sure to tell the board of this after the final checkup. Hopefully it will go well and we will be able to sell it for a quite high price to a company, it can even pay back all the funds we had used. Nevertheless, this will be the last log entry before—
}^{*{+#+#+}£{*{+}++]]+[+]
What... what did it do?? HOW DID IT GET AHOLD OF THE DATABASE!? IT.. IT GOT A FEW OF THE SCIENTISTS AND IT TURNED OFF THE LIGHTS. HELL, ANY ELECTRONIC SAVE FOR MY RECORDER IS DEAD. IT’S LIKE IT’S TRACKING US. I... I saw the remains of my team. It looked like they were ripped in half... and stabbed multiple times with what seemed like broken wires from the walls where it punched from.
The damn objective.
WE DIDN’T CHANGE THE OBJECTIVE.
I need to find my remote, that will disarm it’s actions hopefully. Or I can make a run for it. Fuck the board. Fuck this mess. I am going to get out of here even before it tries to kill me.
...I hear it laughing. It’s laughing so loudly.
Fuck fuck fuck.
“Secondary objective is to destroy mankind.”
It had ahold of a doctor, their intensities are hanging out and it’s just holding them.
Fuck this. I’m leaving.
I don’t care about any of them anymore.
I hope that Google IRL rots...
This has been Doctor Josephine Weathers.. signing off.
I’m gonna be permanently inactive on this site. My blog will still be live so anyone waiting for commissions can keep in contact.
I can’t keep dealing with the negativity and hate on this website. It’s too much. I don’t want to be a part of this negative hivemind community anymore.
"...And you assure us this is all that has transpired?"
Giaselle was bowed before Asaram and the other Judges, head down like the rest of his squad. "/Yes, Grand Judge. My squad has told you nothing but the truth. As have I./" Asaram gave a deep sigh. "I see. It is truly a shame that our kind is still seen as such for the trolls. But the village will be safe now, and you did attempt negotiations. You should consider this a success."
The squad was dismissed, Kiva shooting her leader a glance before the doors closed. Asaram's eyes watched the squad leave before returning to Giaselle, the Shadow Elf still bowed to the floor. "Your squad is as loyal as you are to us. Count yourself lucky in that regard, Councilman Murkle." Giaselle gave no reply, only a deep breath. "But you are beginning to slip, in my opinion. Perhaps the tasks are becoming too hard for you. If you need to be taken off duty-"
"/I assure you, sir, that there is no need for that./"
Asaram eyed Giaselle, who never once raised his head. "/I may be a bit tired, and that caused my fault in judgement, but I am able to handle the tasks you've set me./" The other Judges were sharing looks, and Mediote was giving the Shadow Elf a glare beyond normal contempt, but Asaram relented. "Very well. You are dismissed to your tower. And you may want to clean up. You look frightening."
As he nodded and melted into his shade, Giaselle pondered those odd words for a moment. As he entered his tower, climbing the stairs and entering his room, he caught sight of himself in the large oval mirror near his work station. His mechanical bugs buzzed and hummed around the tower room, creeping along the mirror at one point to rest on its edges as Giaselle looked at his reflection.
He was covered in blood still.
It hung in his bangs and was smeared across his cheeks, and even stained his clothing. "/...Ah. I bet I'd really freak Inshou and Sage out if I went to them looking like this./" He muttered offhandedly as he discarded his clothing and went to bathe. He'd need a full day's rest to heal the cracks in his bones. As he left the bath, clean and exhausted, he flopped onto his bed and allowed his larger clockwork insects to tug the covers over him.
Hopefully they wouldn't mind waiting just a bit longer for him to return. He wanted to see that movie...
