MDB: Miasma Defense Bureau

New Beginnings / Reflections

People are sick in more ways than not. I don't understand it personally, but that's not my business. I only have to administer the cure prescribed by the Bureau, and hope things get better.

I became the newest agent a few months ago, after I fell ill. They transferred me to one of their research facilities after being bedridden in a Minneapolis hospital for five days. I don't remember how I ended up there, only what I was told later. Before the Bureau agent informed me of my condition, I could only recall fleeting sensations in repetition. A nurse beaming a harsh light through my pupils every other hour, though I say this with more confidence than I should. The EKG's green display blurring my vision every time I strained to look at it, and a ceiling clock that had paused at 7:30, like scissor blades ready to snip. My neck was stiff yet felt brittle like firewood, and I was afraid the heat in my lungs would spread up and out into the air. But I could hardly breathe as it was. When a nurse wasn't attending to me in a muffled voice that sounded comforting yet automated, the respirator was humming like a mad machine drowning but unable to die. The garbled scream that never let up drained in my head and I thought I'd lose my hearing for anything else. Just when I thought the droning voice was about to bury me into the darkest alcove of its damp bowels, I came to flat on my back, and what I thought was a flashlight endlessly swinging into my eyes came into focus as a series of fluorescent light panels whizzing past my vision. As I followed one, it quickly vanished above my field of view like a departing halo. Then we stopped with a harsh rattle of the stretcher and my eyes burned. I was moved to a new hospital bed that felt all too familiar, and once raised up on its inclined back and spared the ceiling glare, a man in a dark suit cut through my white-stained sight, still adjusting. He told me about the Bureau, which everyone knew about only in sparse detail. He said as a young division they were still in need of new civil servants dedicated to their singular struggle, one so uncertain yet necessary that it led to the Bureau's sudden birth under political ambiguity and assumed unanimity during a state of emergency. It's growth was just as sudden, thanks to a NDAA that redirected funds from the DoD, and a constituency's blind trust in their mission by name alone. Everyone wanted protection from the miasma.

So how do I fit into this bureaucratic upheaval, the black-suit asked me rhetorically. He pointed to my throat, and I instinctively felt at it, slightly panicked by his vaguely threatening gesture. It was dense and cold. "That is what is keeping you conscious right now, Mr. Corbin." My fingers slowly stroked along where I could not see, for it slithered all the way to the nape where it held my neck firm and inflexible. My touch hit some rough patches along the route: rigid nodes and deep craters hiding sharp prongs. One deep hole felt wet, but a nurse beside me quickly pushed my hand away and with a face dissuaded further probing. I hadn't noticed her before that, and her nervous movements told me she had been prepared to do more than just push me. Her other hand waited concealed in her scrubs' deep pocket.

"It's an experimental design, but theoretically sound. In vivo testing proved successful. We only need now to prove its efficacy in a clinical trial. You may join in the pilot study among others here, and it may keep you alive." He made an uncertain smile when saying this, made all the more uncertain by his thin visor which obscured just the eyes and replaced them with two small black-and-white ovals that glowed from the visor's LED strip. They subtly shifted left and right, apparently mimicking the abduction of his true eyes.

My lips parted with a dry crack, and I inhaled a slow, long breath. It slipped out with more ease than I expected, but the air scorched my larynx in passing. I tested my voice. It at first rang with a whiny wheeze, but at last I articulated. "What pilot?"

"It's just what it sounds like, Mr. Corbin; on a volunteer basis, you'd be among the first to try this promising, treatment-administering medical appliance, at no expense to you. In fact, you're entitled to a stipend for your cooperation. We only ask that you comply with study procedures. Now, I'm only here to deliver the preliminary debrief; you will receive an informed consent form to ensure you understand every step of the process. Of course, we had to make sure you were conscious before confirming your inclusion."