Aggie was sitting on the edge of her bed watching the morning news and checking out the early edition of the newspaper. Things had gone not as direly as she had expected, with the virus infected storms passing through the area and all. Max, her diligent supervisor, rather than alerting the media as she had advised, had actually contacted the CDC and the Air Force ( gosh she was so impressed he had thought to do that). In rapid action, so rare for any governmental body, they had formulated a plan and had seeded the clouds with a virus coating oil that had negated most of the disastrous potential that she had envisioned just yesterday noon.
She turned down the volume as Ole Willard was on the Today show, droning about the storm and the potential flood warnings. Other than a dozen or so folks ( evidently super sensitive) that keeled over in a dead faint and subsequently turned bright colors upon getting wet in the down pour, not much was being reported. The fact that the dozen or so were even being noticed at all (other than their peculiar and vibrant rainbow skin tones) , was the result of the intense scrutiny of Gerald Balderfore, the reporter/photographer for The Sunshine Daily, the local wacko rag that headlined the obscure and unusual, like aliens and Big Foots.
Gerald had been on the scene in the emergency room of Wagged Hospital, wearing his aluminum foil hat ( just in case) when three sopping wet and ailing folks arrived at the same time. The doctors were bumfuzzled over the Chartreuse, Violet and Carolina Blue faces and while trying to hide their concern, didn’t notice Gerald snapping pictures and talking into his miniature recorder. He was noting everything that was being said or done by the frantic medical staff, who before now had never seen such unusual symptoms and were using every trick of their trade to revive the three. While they finally quarantined the ailing citizens, Gerald had had ample time to get enough info and shots ( in living color of course) and the story was woven in detail on the front page.
Aggie was fascinated by his descriptions. She had thought when looking at the virus through her microscope that she had detected a palette spray of colors, like an aura, surrounding the center of the germ, but had no idea that those would become a tell tale sign of the illness. Gerald’s story wove a tale of imagination on the cause of the illness, again back to the Alien factor in which he was a firm believer. Of course the whole Area 51 hoax gave no credence to such things occurring, which is why his story wasn’t picked up by the national news.
This was a good thing, Aggie thought, as it would give her more time to notify her Mother Ship and advise that the plan, while a small success, was pretty much a bust: due to the lack of media attention not producing the panic that they hoped. She would let them know another attempt would have to be planned for later in the week.
Sitting on the edge