Xetragade
By Adam Gonzales
The deep movements beneath the murky water sent soft ripples across the glassy pool. The Dutch spectators leaned forward in their seats trying to get a better view of what was held in the slick fiberglass-enforced tank, clutching the bottom of their seats until their knuckles throbbed white. The churning bubbles that flitted across the top of the almost black water were eyed by the many rows of families and business men that filled the cold white bleachers. A sudden loud beep rang through the air and continued at a steady pattern of exactly thirty beeps per minute, but the spectators did not even so much as bat an eyelid. Probably they were too engrossed in what lay at the bottom of the pool, but it was shocking still that they seemed so unfazed by the abruptness of the strident noise. The sky was orange and dusty, and despite the hollow rushing of the wind and the precise pattern of the beeping, the crowd remained absolutely silent. Time put itself on hold as the half-eaten bags of popcorn and hot dog wrappers fluttered slowly beneath the feet of the seemingly lifeless audience. Even the children, usually restless and bursting with uncontrollable energy, had been tamed by the moment; their eyes dark and wide, locking onto the calm surface of the glossy water, waiting for Xetragade to show itself.* * *
The scientists at Muiden Harbour had been busily piecing together the mystery that was Xetragade for years. Hidden under the tourists’ noses within the walls of a small warehouse near one of the docks, the scientists had poised secrecy with productivity. Although the government had established the testing to last only three years, the Xetragade Initiative proved to be difficult to assemble correctly and was thus granted an extended ten year development plan. It was not long before the rusty warehouse walls were replaced by the slick white of the plexi-steel, and that the testing facilities were moved under the new ocean theme park that was being erected. Not that the scientists objected; it was quite fitting. For Xetragade to be accumulated under an ocean park was nothing short of ironic. The scientists knew that they would be able to experiment on the tourists above without their knowledge by placing slight traces of various serums within their purchased drinks, and without any harm. So when the park was erected, they made sure to attract as many tourists as possible. Everything in Muiden was perfect. Everything in Holland was perfect. And nothing could hinder the progress of Xetragade.
Then there was the announcement of Holland’s resignation from the U.N. At first it came as a shock that could barely be compared to anything that had happened before to the Dutch people. But when the rest of the U.N. slowly followed suit, the people of Holland quickly shifted their emotions from astonishment to fear. There had been rumor of an international epidemic, but mostly it was thought to be gossip and propaganda. The U.N., acknowledging some sort of viral scare, had apparently decided that due to the evident chaos that was going to flood the world, it was only right for each country to focus on their individual survival. Media buzzed, people yelled, but still there was no answer to the question that rang in everyone’s mind: what was the epidemic? Government officials had mentioned little about what was suspected to be the threat, but many had whispered something about the fish. To the people of Muiden, Holland, fishing was a way of life. So when word spread that the cause had been aquatic, there became a steady decline in the market. Not that it mattered; the decline in the market simply reflected the decline in government stability. Confined trepidation was soon shifted into uncontrollable bedlam as more and more of the Dutch people found themselves wondering if they would make it through the night alive.
It was not long before world officials declared the Viral Rotsje Epidermal Piscus Virus, or VREPV, the cause of the mass panic. Although the origins of the virus were not detrimental to humans, it had been discovered that the German authorities had been developing viral weapons using different viruses ten years prior, including VREPV. Originating from a fusion between the non-lethal Viral Hemorrhagic Septicemia Virus and the deadly Toxic Epidermal Necrolysis, VREPV was incurable and impossible to destroy. At first it had been confined to the workspace of the German scientists, but after the government’s disbandment of the test facilities, it had been discovered that the viral experimentations had been tossed into the North Sea, where both Holland and the U.K. received their main supply of the fish market. Trade between the U.K. and the rest of the world ensured that the infected fish in the North Sea were globally expanded. Smaller landlocked countries that did not necessarily find themselves in the fish market, such as Hungary, Botswana, Nepal, and Paraguay were more or less safe until the Spread of 2026. At first only the countries that bordered the ocean had been affected—it was not until later when the virus was discovered to be transferable by touch that landlocked countries had been receiving massive breakouts via human hosts. It was spreading, and it was spreading fast.
Skin rotted throughout the world, no one was safe. Controlled news broadcasts stated that the rotted skin flakes in the air could dissolve and travel on the air currents from place to place. At night government trucks would sweep the streets, spraying disinfectant into the air. It was a futile attempt, as everyone knew it was, but the presence of the government kept families from giving up entirely. Time went on and slowly the population began to dwindle. Soon every door remained locked, every window chained. The brave could be seen making fast trips to general stores in search of clean food and clothes. But, as it always does, the inevitable stuck loud and hard. Every family, every businessman, every government official of Holland found themselves slowly shedding their skin. The point of fear and panic had faded into grim acceptance, and the streets were soon filled with a silent huddled mass of a dying people. No one talked—no one saw the point. There would be an occasional gurgle of laughter from a small adolescent on the street, but it would quickly fade away when the child peered into the lifeless eyes of his elders. The only sense of life came from the caw of the birds in the sky and the desperation for clothes. Clothes were they only comfort that the people had; it was thought that it could be possible that if one was protected by clothes that their skin would stay intact longer—failed attempts at menial security, definitely, but it was all that the people of Holland had.The people began to become more and more lethargic, until they were so lackluster that they did not even notice the government’s disintegration. Everyone was still human, but there was no life left in their eyes. Quiet spread across the world and the only thing keeping the human race from becoming extinct was the sole fact that the disease took months to completely devour a human host. The pain had become so customary that the only acknowledgment that the people showed of it was their habitual scratching and peeling of the skin. Many of the people of Holland had retained normal cerebral activities, but because of VREPV’s rapid deteriorating properties, there were some who had lost major amounts of brain tissue, rendering them almost mindless. But it was those who still understood the world around them that finally came upon the secret that was Xetragade. It had been widely known that there had been strange goings-on within the high white walls of the aquatic amusement park at Muiden. Noises could be heard nightly, quiet thumps, beeps, and screeches barely audible to the human ear. Almost two months had passed since the government’s fall when the people finally had the mind to investigate. It was not a raid; no it was something far less than that. Just a simple inquiry into what was supposedly a vacant theme park. So a slow procession of businessmen, tired adults, and small children trudged into the brilliantly white gates of what was known simply as Whale World.
Dressed to the teeth in the finest clothes, the people searched for the hushed sounds of a persistent beeping while their skinned gradually peeled away. It was when they came upon the large tank that once bore host to the Harbour’s famous killer whale, that the people pinpointed the source of the sound. Towards the back of the arena was a heavy steel hatch ingrained into the cement ground. Every two seconds a beep could be heard resonating from beneath the door. But the people dared not open it. For standing over the door were three men dressed in white, rubber, radiation suits. Their faces were obstructed by a glossy silver visor, and there only sign that was given of their humanity was the loud breathing that could be heard coming from their respirators. The people were too drained and languid to even consider running, but the fear on their faces showed their desires. The men in the suits stepped forward, and one pointed directly to the large tank of water. He spoke in a deep and airy voice that frightened the people; they had not heard any form of speech since the government had sprayed the streets.
“There is Xetragade. There is your savior.”
That was all he said. He spoke, and then he directed them with a gesture of his hand to the bleachers. Nothing more, nothing less.
And so the people waited. They clung to the edge of their seats and watched intently as the bubbles in the black water rose slowly to the surface, as the sky turned a dusty orange, and as the popcorn bags scattered beneath their feet. The men in the white suits stood just outside the hatch with their arms neatly crossed. The door flung open and the muffled beeping beneath became suddenly loud and clear. Thirty beeps per minute, one beep every two seconds. A fourth man rose out of the hatch, and looked to the other three. Although his face could not be seen behind the slick silver visor, his posture said enough. It was time. They all walk slowly and deliberately down the hatch and closed it tightly behind them with a loud click. They had known the time would come, for after all that was why Xetragade had been fashioned; that was its purpose.
All throughout the rest of the world, similar actions were being taken. Aquatic theme parks that had been constructed ten years prior to the Spread of 2026 were luring in remaining sentient infected via soft and soothing noises. They would find a hatch. There would be men in white suits. And always there was promise of a savior.
“There is Terragade. There is your savior.”
“There is Celtagade. There is your savior.”
“There is Aussigade. There is your savior.”
Always the same. Three men greeted, one man led them down into an airtight hatch. It was not something that had been planned by any means, not in the normal sense at least. The Gades had been a precaution, a simple means to stop such an epidemic. They were not planned on being used, but the time had undeniably come. Arenas around the world were filled with people who felt promise in the air. Arenas around the world were filled with people who watched dark pools of water with intense deliberation. Arenas around the world were filled with people who saw the bubbles rise. And arenas around the world were filled with people who were going to die.
The teams of scientists had kept themselves globally connected with remote radio locators, and had carefully kept their spaces beneath the aquatic parks clean and sterile. None of them had been diagnose with VREPV, and none of them had let loose the secret of the Gades. They had busily filled their labs with food, clothes, and all the necessary products to last them until VREPV had ebbed away with time as soon as the epidemic had been confirmed. Everything was sanitary, everything was usable. Nothing was sullied. And so they had, together, planned the rebirth of the human race with precise calculation. After doing tests on flakes of dead skin they had discovered that VREPV receded after completely destroying the epidermis; cells in the air were only able to spread the virus because they were still clinging to living skin. So the scientists had planned their wait so that they could live after the virus had vanished. But their supplies were beginning to wane, and the people were still not dying fast enough. So the Gade Initiative was called into effect. The purpose of the Gades was to destroy viruses that harbored no host, not humans. But with resolute ambition they had been reprogrammed to terminate hosts of virus so as to further the process of VREPV’s dissolution. With the infected gone, there would once again be promise and hope upon the face of the earth.
At approximately 3:42pm Central European Summer Time, the Gades rose out of the water. They had been built in the image of fish with arms. Making them aquatic ensured to protect them from the harshness of weather and cruel human eyes. Their sleek and dark texture was frightening to behold, but still the arena in Muiden, Holland did not move. Maybe the virus had taken its toll, or maybe the people were contented in knowing that their pain was about to end. Whatever the reason, the Gades found no resistance against their programmed objective. They were ready. It was time.Dust rose into the orange sky as the clock moved its hands to 3:45pm CEST. That was how long it took. No struggle, no crying, no pain. The Gades had slumped quietly back into the water where their optical intakes flashed red just before they shut down. A still quiet spread across the planet and for the next fifteen months not a single human form walked its surface. The Gades had done what they had been made to do. The Gades had saved mankind.
