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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CONTENT WARNING
The content of this novel may be disturbing to some.
Mentions of topics of mature nature, such as (but not limited to) mental health, eating disorders, self harm, and abuse are present in some chapters.
Chapters will still contain Trigger Warnings (TWs) at the beginning, should there be the need.
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
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fuorviare [fwor-vyah-reh] v.
(from Italian: fuori "out, outside" + via "way, path")
* To take a wrong path, to lose oneself, to go astray;
* To become involved in something unfit or misaligned with one's nature.
Indeed, the path they had taken led them astray.
Everything has its beginning: a book, a song, a life–even disasters. And this disaster began in 2013.
The Chelyabinsk Meteor. That’s what they called it, even though it fell into Lake Chebarkul. A messenger from the sky–an omen. Usually, those who are religious enough would see this as a beautiful thing, as if God himself sent something to remind humanity of its place.
Scientists, of course, saw something else entirely: a rare cosmic gift. 540 kg of meteorite, made of ordinary chondrite. A piece of our solar system’s history, right on our doorstep. One might imagine astronomers salivating over all the secrets they could uncover through such a find. Sure, we know more about space now than we did years ago. But we also know that space is so vast that we get to learn, or rediscover, something new every day.
While researchers obsessed over the meteorite, something else was happening in that same place. Local reports started mentioning weird behavior from the wildlife in the area. At first, it was subtle, then it changed. They were much more aggressive, erratic, mad. Some scientists had suspected radiation. Others thought it was a panic response due to the aftermath of the impact’s shockwave.
And yet again, humans were wrong. The tests from both the lake water and the wildlife came.
A prion. A misfolded protein, capable of transmitting its form to other proteins. Something so small, unseen and lethal. At first they thought it was a case of Chronic Wasting Disease– or Zombie Deer disease, as many call it. But no, oh no.
This was something new. A new prion. Something that was there, in the lake, for longer than we expected. Right on the soil, for who knows how many centuries, maybe even millenia. And the messenger from the sky? It just unearthed that hidden secret.
We won’t know if it was supposed to be a blessing given out by the Almighty. We won’t know if it was supposed to be a warning.
And for sure, we won’t know if it was supposed to be the sounding of the third trumpet. Ironic, isn’t it? Like in the Bible.
“And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;
And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.”
Well… something along those lines, after all. And obviously, humans had to do their usual move: the hunger for knowledge and discovery was too demanding.
The Russian government had issued a classified order to close up the Lake to anyone. They used the cover of the meteorite recovery operations. In reality, it was all because of that single protein.
This wasn’t something about containment, nor recovery. ‘Twas about opportunity.
And, at that same time… they had started it. The Project.
They called it “Project K”. Some called it “Project 119”. To the few who whispered its true purpose, it had another name: “Project PANDORA”: how fitting of a name.
A black operation, something out of the schemes. Something only the Big Ones at the Kremlin knew about. The objective? To study the prion, see how it acted on humans. Then came the phases. Four of them.
The first, Phase Theta, was animal testing. Rats, deers, monkeys even. So many of them, used just to test the effect of this protein. And the discovery was… astonishing.
It seemed as if the disease would initially enhance the brain capabilities of the infected. It’s almost as if they were… smarter than normal. Due to this, two competing factions within the project emerged.
One saw the prion as a perfect bioweapon. With the right modifications, it could become a lethal WMD, capable of rivaling many others.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The other, instead, thought of weaponizing not the prion… but those infected. What if the prion could be modified to keep its enhancing abilities and apply a controlled exposure?
Both decided to gamble with destiny. And this gamble led them to testing on human beings. Phase Xi.
Soldiers, volunteers, prisoners from jails. They were promised things: money, freedom. So easy to bend a human mind, isn’t it? With just a few promises, they are willing to swan dive to hell itself to just receive those rewards.
But those? Those were empty words.
Nine hundred and sixty adults. And the casualty rate hit one hundred percent. Their deaths were covered as "training accidents" or "natural causes". And yet, they had made new discoveries.
The prion really did enhance one’s brain at first. It was a small peak, right after incubation. The subjects suddenly were smarter, they had more concentration. This was like a daydream: imagine the possibilities. This would’ve been so easily the start of something new. Something big. The creation of our very own ‘Novi Homines’, even.
But no. It wasn’t enough. They needed more. Wanted more. And so, Phase Tau arrived. This time it was teenagers. Seven hundred and thirty poor, young souls. Orphans from government-run orphanages. This made everything easier for the project. Easily disposable, easily hidden. They were forgotten and forsaken, even by their own country.
The researchers thought that developing brains might better adapt to the prion. They were right… to a degree.
And those young souls also died. All of them. Yes, the enhancements were more persistent: they lasted two weeks more than the adults. Yet, they all went into psychosis. Some even had strokes.
Strokes. At seventeen. At sixteen. Some were as young as twelve.
So many dead. This felt like not a dream, but a nightmare. A vivid nightmare.
Expectations were growing higher from the leadership. From the government. The Kremlin needed results. And the Project would give them. At whatever cost.
By this time, other countries heard of this project. An all-out war was the last thing people needed. So, what did the Leaders decide?
Why not get involved? This would give each country plausible deniability, while at the same time the project would have more: covert infrastructure. Funding. New sites in other countries to speed up the research.
It looked promising: but again, they had one more chance. The last shot, so to say, before moving ahead with engineering this gift.
Then… they came. The Chimeras. Thanks to Phase Omega.
A number of couples were selected for this phase. Some willingly, others not so much. They thought that maybe the prion needed to develop along its host. Maybe an embryo. And so, they decided to do it.
Injection. Usually between the third and fifth week of gestation. Right when the body’s still trying to figure out what genes to keep on, and which to keep off. And this allowed the prion to sneak in, interfering with the process. Genes that usually were silent—junk DNA, as we call it—suddenly activated again.
For now, it all seemed like it was working. Time passed, and so the first children were born. The first Chimeras.
They weren’t totally human, nor completely alien. They were in between.
Their bodies were different, in any way possible. Their metabolism was faster, had better reflexes and mobility to a certain degree. And their immune systems were slightly stronger than normal humans.
But even under that guise of perfection, they had to pay a price: scars that remained, cramps, heavy migraines, and autoimmune responses. They weren’t so perfect, weren’t they? They weren’t normal children at all.
They would never get the chance to know their parents. Never feel the embrace of a mother, or a father.
They would never see the sun. Never see the blue sky.
Just those white, fluorescent lights in the facility they were born into.
But amidst all of this… something happened to the outside. A reckoning. And this time, Pandora’s Box indeed was opened, its curses released upon mankind.
The Second Kyshtym Disaster. An explosion at the MAYAK Facility. The same site in which the faction that wanted to weaponize the prion was conducting its tests. We still do not know if it happened on purpose, or if it was an accident. We will never know. But the result was the same.
“Containment failure”
And that? That was the beginning of the end.
It spread. First in Russia. Then Kazakhstan. Then moved toward Europe. And so it went, slowly but surely. It wasn’t immediate. Oh no, it took its time.
A person first. Then another. Then another. And another one again.
It infected many. Humans. Rats. Dogs. Cats. Even bats. All mammals were at risk.
Then they started. The quarantines. The skirmishes. Cities walled off, creating the Dead Zones. The remnants of the Old Cities.
And along with them, the Burn Zones. Gigantic bonfires of melted flesh and wood. All to safeguard the few lucky survivors outside of the Dead Zones.
It was like the Middle Ages. Like the Black Plague in its new, shining, and terrible armor. Even though it’s totally different here, from a biological standpoint.
And yet, deep underground, the scientists remained. Their research continued. More children were born, thanks to survivors from the chaos above who were lured in the safety of the underground labs. Some kids, few of them, were even born through artificial means. A total of seventy Chimeras lived. Slowly but surely, experiments were ongoing. Some died. Some survived.
The scientists wanted to find a solution to what they had done at MAYAK and maybe, just maybe, the very own children, the very own abominations they had created and shaped would be the answer.
Years passed. Mother Earth took back what was hers, slowly. God, or whoever is up above, left. Or maybe He died along with the many sons and daughters he had. Hell, maybe there was no God to begin with.
And the humans? They changed, too. No higher being to grapple to, no purpose. No self. They were like savages. No, not savages. It was something more. They were… animals.
Simple, wild, rabid animals. That’s what they really were, after all. What they always have been.
And the Chimeras? They grew, sealed away from the apocalypse above on the Surface. Of the seventy, only forty seven survived. The oldests were seventeen years old. The youngest was just three. In all of their useless lives, they knew one color: white.
Like the walls, the lights, the coat worn by the researchers and the doctors. All they had read about the Old World was in the few scrappy books they were given.
Children who had never seen the sky, never seen the sun, never felt the wind on their faces… and furthermore, children that never felt love.
Forsaken. Forgotten. Simply broken marionettes.
The only thing they felt was their very own existence falling apart, like a house of cards hit by the wind. They were ticking bombs: they all knew. They were told right away, since the start. Of them, nothing would remain but an empty shell, drooling and chewing on its tongue. It was a matter of time, after all.
And now, some of you may wonder what this is all about.
See, my dear readers… This is a prologue, an introduction to a story.
Their story, that of seven Chimeras. Seven reminders of humanity’s despair, seven remnants of a dying experiment against a brave new world. A monolith to humanity’s sins.
Just seven young souls in search of answers, and in search of their past. Before they forget. Before they become just specs of ash against the wind.
And all that will remain of them… will be just a lullaby. A broken song.
Seven children. Seven survivors. Seven of humanity’s greatest sins… and perhaps its only hope.