The Martian Epidemic

Chapter I

The Millstone Peak Incident

PART I

6:25am (MT)

Tuesday, November 23, 2032

The alarm seemed louder than normal. Typically, it buzzed at a much lower almost muffled manner, but this morning it was as if the thing finally decided to speak up. Which in the long term seemed like good news; seeing that Tom can't recount how many times he's been late to work because it wasn't loud enough or simply didn't wake up at all because it failed to activate. But alas, the day it's its loudest had to be the day Tom got the afternoon off.

Disappointed by this, he rises out of bed leisurely and contorts his arms in a manner that pop them both; he inhales deeply and out comes an extensive sigh of weariness accompanied with a loud yawn. Still half awake, he instinctively plops his bare feet on to the cold carpet below, missing where he assumed his slippers would be. "Must've misplaced them" he thought while sauntering over to the bathroom. Tom, walking in the dim room, blindly feels the white painted wall for the light switch. After some sad seconds of running his hand up and down the wall he finally finds a switch and flicks it, accidentally switching on the loud air conditioning vent above. The sound petrifies him, and in one swift move he switches it off and corrects himself by flicking the one above. Suddenly, the restroom ignites in a bright burst of dazzling light, and for a brief moment leaves him in a disoriented state of mind. Much like how a deer is to freeze up in the midst of a pickup truck's headlights. Tom, although thrown off by the sudden surge of light, is quick to adjust and begin his morning ritual.

Mildly temperate water rushes out of the sink faucet and into his cuffed hands, splashing the warm water on his dry, tired face. Scrubbing his restless eyes with water drenched hands is often how he legitimately wakes up from his zombie like state; it also in some cases marks the highlight of his morning (aside from his wife's homemade French toast.) After a face full of warm water and a two-minute brushing session, he walks out of the bathroom and into the kitchen; where his dear wife is pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee.

He stands in the hall, admiring her from afar like how a nervous high school student might admire their crush. He smiles and walks over to the coffee pot where she still stands; pouring herself a cup as she reads the closed captions of the half-muted local news. She places the pot back on the brewer and from behind he gently wraps his arms around her waist; resting his exhausted head on her shoulder.

"Well good morning to you too" she playfully announces, before a brief kissing session ensues.

"Why up so early darling?"

"May I ask the same to you?"

"The alarm summoned me, what's your excuse?"

"Inspiration." She replies.

Tom's wife is a self-publishing author, which is a good way to keep her busy while Tom is out all day and also a good thing for Tom to brag about to his co-workers. She often has these so-called "bursts" of inspiration that snap her out of routine life and cause her to write pages and pages of manuscript. Most of the time these eruptions of inspiration can make her produce up to eight pages in a single session, which in his opinion is quite impressive.

They both seize a cup of coffee and walk over to the small wooden dining table where she has already prepared them both breakfast.

"I made 'em the way you like," she proclaims. "Sunny-Side Up and served with a smile."

He ardors it when she prepares breakfast for him, though he was kindly hoping for that French Toast he was daydreaming of earlier. Nevertheless, he politely smiles, and thanks her by kissing her pale hand.