When Ansel left for the field this morning, I snuck into his lab and swiped his data disk. We’ve been at this gig for over a week now, he keeps saying he’s no closer than he was before, and Rion wanted to know what exactly it is we’re up against. A virus is all we know. All we’re told.It makes you sick, kills people, shit like that.
So we stuck the data disk into the bridge computer and listened to Ansel’s wavering voice read off statistics and biological information, species and location collected and results of the tests he performs when he’s not picking flowers and weeds outside. “Boring,” Rion said, fast forwarding through the data. Ansel’s voice squealed like a chipmunk’s as he jumped ahead on the disk.