The foundry was built over a series of elaborate pumps and drainage systems that culminated in mimicking the steady flow of the tides. It kept the infected alive and kept us waist deep in fresh subjects to test our cures on. Something was bound to work eventually, should the machinery remain functional.
The pistons have stopped working, clogged with either weeds or whatever remained of the chum we threw into the cloudy sulphurised water. Every time this happened we knew we'd end up losing another employee. The cures were working and not in the way we intended.
Sure the infected were slowly regaining their former personalities and general sense of self but their predatory instincts remained dominant. Every now and then they'd apologise or ask about the weather as if we'd just met on the sidewalk in a pleasant neighbourhood rather than the stinking bowels of the greatest foundry of knowledge this side of the Thames.
It used to be so much easier to get workers to volunteer for piston maintenance but now they've cottoned onto the high turnover, the sudden loss of contact and randomly approved holiday requests. They aren't as stupid as we've tried to make them.
The human mind always finds a way to defy expectations and soon enough we'll be all on our own.
It'll be workers and monsters against us - their saviours, the heralds of the cure!
Perhaps it's best we start from scratch, for all our sakes and all our safety?
The pistons have stopped working, clogged with either weeds or whatever remained of the chum we threw into the cloudy sulphurised water. Every time this happened we knew we'd end up losing another employee. The cures were working and not in the way we intended.
Sure the infected were slowly regaining their former personalities and general sense of self but their predatory instincts remained dominant. Every now and then they'd apologise or ask about the weather as if we'd just met on the sidewalk in a pleasant neighbourhood rather than the stinking bowels of the greatest foundry of knowledge this side of the Thames.
It used to be so much easier to get workers to volunteer for piston maintenance but now they've cottoned onto the high turnover, the sudden loss of contact and randomly approved holiday requests. They aren't as stupid as we've tried to make them.
The human mind always finds a way to defy expectations and soon enough we'll be all on our own.
It'll be workers and monsters against us - their saviours, the heralds of the cure!
Perhaps it's best we start from scratch, for all our sakes and all our safety?
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