The last message sent by Thomas Withton, before he was arrested for releasing previously secret information to the public through the Deep Web. Sent to the Frankton Research Facility below the Larson B Ice Shelf. An isolated facility who primarily research global warming affects on the shelf, parts of the facility were aimed to isolated research on viral infections on humans, such as influenza.
Dr. Tribetton and his team had observed influenza and other sicknesses evolve year by year, and helped give advice on updating vaccines to keep up with the change. The frosted location was perfect, as no one, not even spies from other nations, would expect this American-built global warming observatory to harbor anything of the sorts. Even information which would aid the world must be kept secret until completion.
Gerald Ressa had first gotten the odd email. Confused at the oddly simple message, he reported to Dr. Tribetton immediately after printing a physical copy.
"Sir, I have received an odd transcript via email. Private, not public email."
Dr. Tribetton already seemed busy when he answered with a dull tone, picking his voice recordign device off of his desk.
"What does it say? Any new information on INS-CoV?"
"No, sir. It is numerical. It contains the letter 100."
Dr. Tribetton shoved past him, before checking his gloves to make sure they were sealed completely. He pushed through the door, which locked firmly behind him with 3 separate locking mechanisms, and immediately began talking into his voice recorder while walking around the deceased subject on the metal table.
"Floor -3B, underground of the Frankton Research Facility. Iraqi Necrosis Syndrome Coronavirus research, day 7. Viral infection's origins begin in unknown times and locations. Virus eats away all organic matter it infects, causing death within a day. Incubation period is only a single day. No cure or vaccine yet created, and no animals tested on withstand the infection. Spreads via contact. Pandemic risk immanent. Early signs capable of mocking Middle Eastern Respiratory Syndrome, another Coronavirus."
The digital clocks all around the base struck 00:00. Midnight. A new email on the computer drew Gerald Ressa's attention, sluggishly dealing with another day of Dr. Tribetton shrugging him off.
Written by ShawnCognitionCP