Instalment One Hundred and Forty Seven

People wanted to call them zombies but they weren’t, that wasn’t fair. Then we all would have been zombies once. There was no zombie plague. It was a good plague. Is there a word for a good plague? Sweeping mass construction? Applauselypse? Dogastrophe? Holoclaps.  I guess not. The virus, is that word correct? The virus infected 90% of the population. Total worst case scenario type scenario. Dis-bloody-aster. But turns out it wasn’t, not for 90% of us.


Faster reflexes, increased brain function and muscle mass, mild telepathy. Faster, smarter, stronger. A super human virus. Everyone tried to catch it so they developed a vaccination, no that’s wrong, an incubation I guess? We all took our shots. And waited. I was always pretty smart, so no worries here. Those who couldn’t catch it, they moved slow, thought slow, talked slow. Well, compared to the infected. So they got angry. They called infected braincases, brains for short. They lashed out. Slow, violent and yelling ‘brains,’ you can see where the name came from. “The kind thing to do would be to kill them,” I said, “is kind the word?”

“Why aren’t you using your telepathy?” my son asked me. 

“Brains,” I said.

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