Conspiracy theorists are the worst. Why, you must ask? They take every coincidence and turn it into a plot. They make you question reality, because you can rarely be one-hundred percent certain that the creator of these theories is crazy. Their questions are always so intriguing, and the answers so elusive. If you read enough of these theories, you start to wonder on the possibilities of the universe. Do aliens exist? Do humans exist? Do you exist?
The worst of these theories are the ones that have you questioning humanity. We are not a perfect species, but I would like to think that we are, overall, a rather positive form of evolution. Of course, hippies would like to remind you that we are constantly destroying the planet and its contents simply so that we may live in utter convenience - but what do these people know? We may destroy a few things here and there; but we create - oh boy do we ever create.
When evolution came along, I bet it never thought these hairless apes would ever get to space. I bet it never considered that we may one day be the dominate species of not only the plains, but the forests, the mountains, the sky, and the sea. Our ability to use tools is a marvelous gift - one that conspiracy theorists would have us believe is our downfall.
The theories I speak of are those of disease. These ideas date back hundreds of years to the creation of the black plague. Now, school children speak of it as a fairy tale, a story of how those devilish rats brought a terrible curse to humans. But was it the rats? Were the rats really the ones at fault, or could the humans have prevented it by being cleaner? By focusing more on medicine, and less on warfare? Taking a step back...how did the rats come to carry such a disease in the first place?
But the black plague was centuries ago. It no longer affects us. It is a dream. And yet, we manage to gather up and suffer from loads of other disease - all brought by animals. The most prominent of our age, of course, being HIV, and its child, AIDS. A disease that was discovered during a time of civil change, when the world was beginning to question how society works...and suddenly a disease appears that is said to target only gay men? These theorists would have you believe that there is no such thing as a coincidence.
I would have called them all fools, if it were not for our latest curse - the plague of the starfish. It was a myth, at first, as all things dangerous often are. There were pictures thrown around the internet of starfish who had torn themselves limb from limb. Impossible! It must be framed - set up, a ruse, some clever contraption to receive precious internet fame. Until it happened again. Another starfish tore itself apart, its limbs pulling in opposite directions until they simply popped off. It was horrendous. Terribly interesting, but horrendous all the same.
So we studied it. It appeared to be a genetic mutation, this disease. But there is no such thing as coincidence. The scientists were given mounds upon mounds of dead starfish to study, until they were practically covered in the broken and spattered limbs. For some, it was a researchers wet dream; for others, it was a nightmare of Hollywood proportions.
A scientist came forward, saying that they thought the disease may have been engineered. He was the first to go. The police thought he had been murdered, made to look like the starfish he had spent so many months studying. Until another one of his team-members died. And then another. And another. And then the crime investigator who had studied all of the victims, quickly followed by the rest of the police force. There were no such things as a coincidence.
From there, the disease spread beyond our control. We tried to quarantine it, to lock it down and have it eradicated, but we had no way of telling who had contracted it until their limbs were suddenly pulling in opposite directions. It spread and it spread, like limbs reaching outwards to the edges of humanity, until our very species was torn apart. We are no longer the lords of the sea, sky, mountains, or forests. We are losing our control of the plains. We are losing control of ourselves. There is no such thing as a coincidence.
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011 is taking the place of 010 because 010 is a long one that is still being edited! It shall appear when I am happy with it (as it is the only short story I have felt is a real short story so far), which will likely make it terribly out of order. Oops!
For the source of this prompt, clicky wicky! Thank you, and have a nice day!
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