The room was caught unaware. In the beginning, it appeared routine duct work was being done in the communications room. Indeed, we had all had warning that they would be working today from our supervisor. It was important to maintain the air temperature and air quality in the room both for the computers and people that manned them 24 hours a day. One by one we put on the dust masks to protects ourselves from any particles that might get in the air as they worked. This to, was routine. What unfolded next was most unusual.
It began slowly. None of us knew what was happening until it was too late. Like a frog who starts off in cold water and doesn’t realize it’s boiling until it’s doomed. It was so much like something out of science fiction, I doubt you’ll even believe it. Whether it was the masks or what they did with the ducts is still under fierce debate. We started to notice something was amiss shortly after the technicians working on the ducts left. This is why some say it was the ducts. Still, others say it was the masks because the technicians never used them and were later reported to have no symptoms. You would think it would be a simple thing to determine, yet no trace or possible source could be found after the fact.
This is what happened:
At first the change was so slow no one noticed. Like the speed fingernails and hair grow slow. We thought our discomfort due to the masks at first and were happy to take them off, the work being completed. Then it was like a switch flipped and discomfort became blinding pain. The center may as well have been unmanned at this point. What followed may have well been a mass hallucination. Dispatchers and call takers alike started to morph into some crude mix of human and animal. Body hair grew and became fur. Where the masks had been became more of a muzzle then a mouth. Through the pain you could see the look of horror on everyone’s faces as they watched helplessly. Then one by one we were blissfully granted the gift of unconsciousness. I’m told a month has passed since that day. I’m one of the last ones to wake from the coma. Miraculously none of us bare a mark of what happened that day. Collectively it’s been decided, with unspoken consent, not to talk or admit what happened that day. Indeed as I write this I find myself tempted to get rid of these words, like even writing them down I’ll risk getting locked away in the loony bin. What type of beasts we may have turned into never came to light.
