[Eric, that's a wonderfully succinct explanation. Don't worry about your miners; you'll get them back soon. Their lifespans may be considerably shortened, and cancer is a definite possibility, but that's many years down the line.
For this story update, and likely from now on, I'm not going to distinguish between Gizogin and Gizo X, unless there's a specific reason to do so. They look identical, and have the same memories, thoughts, and quirks, so only they would readily be able to tell themselves apart anyway. I'll just refer to them both as "Gizogin," and no one (except me) will know which is which. Bwahahahaha.]
The two Gizogins, along with the Mks. VIII and IX, made a final check on the sick miners. They were recovering at a remarkable pace, helped no doubt by dwarves' natural resilience. You don't live and work deep underground without some degree of toughness, after all. As soon as their current dose of sedative wore off, they were to be allowed to leave, with instructions to return to the hospital at the slightest sign of relapse.
That done, one Gizogin set off to have a look at the now-sealed dining hall, while the other retired to his (well, it belonged to both of... him. Pronouns...) workshop. He had an idea for a new machine, and wanted to get right to work on it. The Gizogin heading to the workshop reached it without incident, only to find it deserted, the door unguarded. Fortunately, it didn't appear to be open. It could stay that way for now; until he knew exactly what these fluffballs were, he wasn't going to take any chances. Not after that corai virus.
Gizogin called to a passing dwarf, asking her if she'd seen what had happened to the guards that had been posted outside the door. She hadn't seen them, but she had heard some strange noises coming from inside. Gizogin thanked her, and slipped into one of the hazmat suits hanging by the door (again, not taking any chances. His first action regarding the fluffball threat had been to establish a full quarantine). He stepped into the decontamination chamber, and then through the great doors into the dining hall itself.
The first thing he noticed were the bodies. Four of them; two men, a woman, and a young boy. The men, he recognized as the guards he had posted outside the door. The woman and child were unknown to him. They were splayed about randomly, arms and legs askew. What wasn't random were their faces; they all had exactly the same expression of euphoria. Also not random: the fluffballs swarming the bodies. At first, Gizogin thought the fluffballs were simply flitting about aimlessly, but then he realized they were actually ramming themselves into the bodies, over and over again. Each tackle brought forth a squeak. It would have been comical, but something about the scene set Gizogin on edge.
That was when he noticed something else: the bodies were alive. They were pale and very still, which was why he had thought them dead at first, but as he got closer, he realized they were still breathing. It was very slow breathing, as if they were asleep, or even comatose, but it was breathing nonetheless. The paleness was from the fine coating of white dust on their bodies. It filled the air as well, hanging over the ground like a thick fog. Gizogin realized the fluffballs were trailing it everywhere. He reached down and ran his gloved fingers over the floor. They came back coated in dust. When he straightened up, he suddenly became aware that the fluffballs were watching him. He immediately dismissed that notion as absurd; they didn't even have eyes. Even so, he got the feeling they were watching him. They had stopped attacking the people on the floor, and were just floating a few feet above the ground in silence.
Gizogin shook himself. He wasn't scared of two dozen tiny balls of fluff. He started walking toward the nearest of the bodies, that of one of the guards. The fluffballs made no move to stop him, but when he leaned down to touch him, they started squeaking angrily. Gizogin noticed the dust growing thicker; soon it would actually become hard to see. He was glad his suit had its own air supply; he doubted the dust would agree with his lungs. Absentmindedly, he checked the man's pulse with his fingers. He felt a tiny impact on his lower back, and when he turned around, he saw a fluffball readying itself for another attack. The others slowly closed in on Gizogin, squeaking louder and louder. Suddenly, he saw one of them burst into flames. That was all the excuse he needed to make a break for the door. Behind him, the flaming fluffball had set some of the dust in the air aflame, and it was slowly spreading outwards.
As Gizogin reached the door to escape the room, he saw the guards, the woman, and the young boy, not far from being consumed by the blaze. He also saw yet more of the fluffballs on fire, and at least one that appeared to be trailing snowflakes behind it. He slammed the door, and threw the heavy bar across it, locking it. No way was he going back in there, not for all the gold in the mountainhomes.
[Wow, I typed more than I meant to. Yay? Anyway, there's my major update for the night. I'll be around a bit longer, but I need to get some sleep. I have some painting to do tomorrow, and I'll be looking forward to it even less if I'm exhausted.]
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Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall, continued... FULL DISCLOSURE (Read 266490 times)