The Pruners
22 January 2009 17:12![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skonen_bladesThey were called Pruners.
Aptly named since they were old and wrinkled. Ironic that pruning is what gardeners do to plants to keep their gardens healthy. Their very existence was seven levels of clearance above the level of the President of the United States. They were the scientists that designed the viruses that kept the planet at an acceptable level of population.
Eight men and three women. The positions were hereditary. It was the same job that their grandparents had. They grew up in the sub-basement and were rarely exposed to the real world. To them, it was a statistics game. Cancer, AIDS, flesh-eating disease, and more.
They had a large number of test subjects in the cells down there. There was a border that had to be maintained. All of the cures and the antidotes were down there too.
The diseases needed to be tailored perfectly. Too contagious or deadly and the planet would be rid of humans forever. Too weak or too long of a gestational period and the humans on the outside would develop a cure quickly and that would be that. The diseases needed to be incurable, insidious and stealthy.
The side effects on the population on a societal level were what fascinated the scientists the most. The changing of social morals and habits could be achieved by releasing a virus that targeted certain racial groups, for instance, or those who ate a certain food. It could target people with certain sexual habits.
The problem was in making the disease too specific. The Pruners could not afford to upset the genetic apple cart. A dynamic and varied base was needed to keep the population of Earth going.
Fascinating and rewarding work. The fact that billions had died under their family’s hands, generation after generation, black plague after black plague, didn’t disturb them in the slightest.
A fresh supply of homeless people, condemned prisoners, orphans, and mentally sick people were provided to them.
The Pruners are down there right now, pale and weak and brilliant, living by the white glow of fluorescents and the green glow of computer screens. Mixing, matching, and experimenting on unfortunate souls.
If there is a hell, this is it. Under us, yes, but it’s cold, sterile, brightly lit, and quiet.
tags
Aptly named since they were old and wrinkled. Ironic that pruning is what gardeners do to plants to keep their gardens healthy. Their very existence was seven levels of clearance above the level of the President of the United States. They were the scientists that designed the viruses that kept the planet at an acceptable level of population.
Eight men and three women. The positions were hereditary. It was the same job that their grandparents had. They grew up in the sub-basement and were rarely exposed to the real world. To them, it was a statistics game. Cancer, AIDS, flesh-eating disease, and more.
They had a large number of test subjects in the cells down there. There was a border that had to be maintained. All of the cures and the antidotes were down there too.
The diseases needed to be tailored perfectly. Too contagious or deadly and the planet would be rid of humans forever. Too weak or too long of a gestational period and the humans on the outside would develop a cure quickly and that would be that. The diseases needed to be incurable, insidious and stealthy.
The side effects on the population on a societal level were what fascinated the scientists the most. The changing of social morals and habits could be achieved by releasing a virus that targeted certain racial groups, for instance, or those who ate a certain food. It could target people with certain sexual habits.
The problem was in making the disease too specific. The Pruners could not afford to upset the genetic apple cart. A dynamic and varied base was needed to keep the population of Earth going.
Fascinating and rewarding work. The fact that billions had died under their family’s hands, generation after generation, black plague after black plague, didn’t disturb them in the slightest.
A fresh supply of homeless people, condemned prisoners, orphans, and mentally sick people were provided to them.
The Pruners are down there right now, pale and weak and brilliant, living by the white glow of fluorescents and the green glow of computer screens. Mixing, matching, and experimenting on unfortunate souls.
If there is a hell, this is it. Under us, yes, but it’s cold, sterile, brightly lit, and quiet.
tags
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Date: 23 Jan 2009 01:27 (UTC)no subject
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Date: 23 Jan 2009 03:17 (UTC)