kittenxo

The Pestilence
I would love to know when these self proclaimed ‘doctors’ are going to start genuinely helping me. I cooperated with them, I was kind to all of them. I even cured Dr. Hamm! Despite this, these men keep me contained in this dark, wretched room. I have been told so many times that soon I will be able to continue my work but that day never comes about. For generations I had the freedom to conduct my experiments out in the world but now I am stuck in this pit of darkness. I asked them to turn on the lights once and they did… for a week, non-stop. I have seen my fair share of prisons and hospitals throughout the generations I have been on this god forsaken planet, and never have I seen lights so excruciatingly bright. It burned my eyes each time I opened them and eventually after simply asking nicely ‒ despite my desire to scream ‒ they turned the brightness down. Since then, the lights have been dim.
I need to get out of this place. They claim to be protecting the world yet they cannot see that I am trying to do the same. I need to get out. I have sent a beetle that I cured throughout the facility to communicate with the guards outside my cell… or at least attempt to communicate. Nothing came of this. Perhaps if I cry, they will come to me. What a brilliant idea! These pathetic excuses for doctors have never seen me express even the slightest ounce of emotion.
Without a second thought, I seat myself on the ground and begin to imitate the sound of crying. I have heard many people cry and might I say, my attempt is astoundingly accurate. Within minutes, Dr. Itkin enters my containment cell, followed by heavily armed guards.
“Why are you crying, 049?” he asks me. I mimic a sniffle and gaze up at the doctor.
“I just want to finish my research,” I begin. “so that I can finally free this world of the Pestilence.” Hopefully my acting is as brilliant as my scientific works.
“SCP-049, I cannot allow you to continue your research given your requirements to do so.” Ah, yes. These humans are so full of emotion towards one another, they cannot even spare me a worthless Class-D man.
“I am willing to take whatever subjects you are willing to give me,” These words are spoken through clenched teeth. I do not want their dead meat. I want living humans to cure! You cannot cure a dead subject. “provided they are living. They do not have to be human but I will accept any living creature.”
“If you can tell me exactly what ‘Pestilence’ is,” The word coming from his mouth rings in the air and sends shivers down my spine. “Then I will allow you to continue your research and perhaps even allow you to use some live human subjects.” The doctor makes a fair offer, and under any other circumstances I would take him up on it. However, there is one small problem: I, myself, do not really know what the Pestilence is.
When I was brought into existence, it was in me; the urge to cure people, that is. I felt the urge only with some people, without any reason or similarities. Over time, I named the urge the Pestilence because, well, it is a pest. I never meant to kill people. That is why I reanimate them once I feel they have been cured. The reason I was so compliant in the beginning was because I knew that if I went with the Foundation, I would have a better chance of finding out why I feel this urge only around certain people.
The closest I have come to figuring out a relationship between subjects was when I was drawn to a small family in Poland. Between the beginning and end of my experiments, all four members of the family had contracted whatever it was that I was trying to cure. It is not a disease that is detectable by man or their pesky machines. It is something only I can sense, and when I do… God help the poor soul who has it.
“Doctor,” I say as I stand up. “you make a very appealing offer but I am afraid I must confess something.” I begin to slowly walk towards him and notice how the guards ready their weapons. How funny it is to me that they think those will work on me. Before he has time to ask any questions, he is silenced by my mouth right next to his ear.
“I am afraid you are infected” Without another word, I let my finger graze his neck and admire as his body falls to the ground. I look up at the guards who are shaking and aiming their pathetic human weapons at me. “I will not be held hostage any longer.” The men pull their triggers over and over and the bullets pierce my robes and body. It is painful but it will not kill me, and they never will.
I stoop and snatch Dr. Itkin’s ID card and slip between the guards, repeating my action of killing them. For once I do not have any remorse. For once I can understand the Pestilence. I peep my head out of my cell and look around. I notice guards heading towards me and quickly hide behind the door frame. As soon as they come to pass, I simply place my hand on each of their shoulders and chuckle as they collapse. It all makes sense.
With the doctor's identification, I will be able to leave the facility. Each and every guard that stands in my way meets the same fate as Itkin and the others. Within minutes I arrive at the front entrance of Site-19. I pause and look back. These men served me well. They tried to compromise and give me what they thought was fair, and I commend them for that reason. Unfortunately, it was not enough.
Soon enough they too will understand what the Pestilence is. They will see the pattern in my work. They will see that my urge cure is not the issue, but instead, they are. This planet, along with its inhabitants, is the Pestilence, and I will not stop until it is clean.