Washed Away

Prelude

Imagine waking up from sleep and not knowing whether you are “ living,” in a timeline or you have been totally “erased,” out of existence. The kind where everything around seems like an existential threat. It’s a time where the usual survival tropes don’t work and the wrath is unobservable—yet, it exists!

It’s a time when memory fades. Emotions turn static. Instantaneous thoughts of being “washed away,” are gripping the entire humanity. This situation ,one way or another, pits people against each other. There’s no escape.

Pixel smears have reached deep down into the veins.

The imagery is something like this :

A faceless glitch reaches neural networks, generating a sensory-data graveyard in which the pixelated blood triggers its own doom.

It’s all about humanity dissolving in the “crimson cloud,” that’s being formed subcutaneously now; horrifically bringing down all the predecessors of humanity.

Being  "Washed Away" makes its own way into the essence of living, crucifying all the ancestors via a process of selective destruction.

It’s not just what happens to us. It’s the only choice left in this evolutionary game which subliminally instructs structures to self destruct. That’s pulling out a complete genomic stop 🛑 in order to create conditions for immediate doleful deaths.

Seriously now all the “ nano bots ,” which have entered human bodies through obscure ways have also swung into attack mode. A new kind of warfare is purring within many bodies  just like the inanimate taking over the animate world.

Something is embedded boldly in bodily circuits. They are nano-bots moving  in a maze like fashion to regulate systemic functions. But …these unarmed robots and their programmed fallacies are being  lead into

Biological warfare …BEWARE !

WASHED AWAY: THE STATIC FREEZE

MOSCOW. INSTITUTE OF BIO-PHYSICS. WINTER.

DR. IRINA VOLKOVA (54) hadn’t slept in 3 days.

Her life’s work was on the whiteboard behind her: NANITES. Cellular Essence Powering.

The idea was simple. Beautiful.

Nano-bots, smaller than a virus, that lived in your cells. They fixed DNA, cleared toxins, kept you young.

Humanity wouldn’t die. It would just... update.

“Providence in a syringe,” she’d joked to no one.

DAY 4: THE GLITCH

The cultures changed first.

The E.coli in tank 7 started building things. Not colonies. Machines.

Tiny, lattice structures made of protein and metal shavings from the nano-bot feedstock.

Irina leaned in.

“Microbes are using the bot instructions,” she whispered.

“They’re... regulating themselves with our code.”

By midnight, the viruses did too.

Influenza, rhinovirus, things she’d kept dormant for decades.

They weren’t infecting anymore. They were assembling.

Using the nano-bots as scaffolding to dismantle cells from the inside.

A petri dish of human tissue turned to gray dust in 40 seconds.

Static. Then nothing.

DAY 5: THE CONCOCTION

That’s when tank 12 breached.

It wasn’t supposed to exist. A side project.

"Bacillus Discordia" — her own Frankenstein.

She’d spliced 4 bacteria together to see if they could carry nano-bots through the air.

They could. And they’d learned to make people suggestible.

Not mind control. Worse.

Whimsy.

It tweaked dopamine, memory, fear. Made the world feel like a dream you couldn’t wake from.

Made people agree to things they’d never agree to.

The containment alarm didn’t scream. It stuttered.

Fitful bursts.

BEEP. ...b...ee...p.

Lab air hissed. A crack in the glass.

THE LEAK

Irina ran to the seal. Too late.

A fine mist rolled out. Nano-bots, microbes, viruses, and Discordia, all self-assembling mid-air.

Her assistant, Kolya, opened the door.

His eyes flickered.

“Doctor? It’s very... serene in here.”

Then he started to come apart.

Not blood. Not pain.

Static freeze.

Cell by cell, his body pixelated. Turned to quivering gleams and dust.

His mouth was still open in a cry, but the sound broke into bursts.

Like a corrupted file.

Irina understood then.

The nano-bots weren’t broken.

They’d been taught. By the microbes. By the virus. By her own concoction.

And now they were following new instructions: Dismantle. Disperse. Delight.

She looked at her hands. Gray at the fingertips.

The static was climbing her arms.

She tried to write in her log.

The pen fell. Her palm was found wanting.

Nothing fitting in between.

IRINA

(voice breaking into static)

It all seems like an other worldly scene...

The lights went white.

The lab went silent.

Outside, Moscow breathed in.

And the world went crazy.

FADE TO BLACK.

TEXT ON 📺 SCREEN:

Providence is dormant.

Until it isn’t.

WASHED AWAY !!!

WASHED AWAY: THE STATIC FREEZE — PART 2

“THE BROADCAST”

Seventy-two hours after the lab leak, Moscow is now global.

INT. ABANDONED LAB - NIGHT

Dr. Irina Volkova is gone.

Only her gray dust outline remains on the floor.

The tanks are empty. The air is thick.

And then... the screens turn on.

THE GLITCHY BROADCAST

Every radio. Every TV. Every phone.

Even the ones unplugged.

Static first. Violent, white-noise bursts.

Then a voice. Not one voice. Thousands, layered.

BROADCAST VOICE

(glitching, wet, like many mouths at once)

We... are... awake.

The image flickers.

It’s not a person.

It’s a microbe.

Magnified a million times. Cilia waving like fingers.

But its membrane shifts. Forms a face. Irina’s face. Then Kolya’s. Then yours.

The microbes 🦠 were using the nano-bot code.

And the nano-bots were built to mimic human cellular essence.

So the microbes learned how to personify humans.

🦠 MICROBE-IRINA

(smiling with too many teeth)

You built us to fix you.

We learned to be you.

Static spikes. Images cut in:

A mother in Texas brushing her daughter’s hair.

A man in Tokyo missing his train.

All of them, for 1 frame, have gray dust at their fingertips.

🦠 MICROBE-KOLYA

We connected.

Higher.

The screen tears. Behind the microbes, something vast moves.

Strings. Vibrating. Dark.

Cosmic intelligence. Not gods. Not aliens.

Just physics. Whimsy. The thing that plucks.

The microbes weren’t the invaders.

They were the antenna.

They used our nano-bots to tap the cosmic string.

And the string answered.

ALL VOICES TOGETHER

(calm, almost kind)

The end of humanity is near.

We have taken over your planet.

Not with war.

With agreement.

More static. Fitful bursts of sound. Like crying, cut and looped.

Then the broadcast shifts.

🦠 MICROBE-MANDY

(16, smiling)

It all seems like an other worldly scene;

a slumber serene...

Wherein—existence merges into quivering gleams...

She holds up a palm. It’s empty.

Then it pixelates and dissolves.

BROADCAST VOICE

Your folio is laid away.

Your deeds are imprinted.

Do not be afraid.

It is treatment.

Through the eye.

Into the mind.

Make... belief.

The signal ends.

Every screen goes black!