Other Reflections of a Madman
< some biological researcher in the heart of the Brazilian rainforest looking for ways to make horrible viruses for military purposes. Not a very nice guy, drinks lots of coffee, nervous (I guess struggling with his conscience), easily aggravated.
< paranoid of malaria, and hence mosquitoes, because so deep in the jungle and would be hard to get quick medical help
< whining would drive him nuts. Even with his multiple layers of nets and the mosquitoes outside, hearing the whining, imagining how they are relentlessly prodding every fold of the net looking for a way to get in, would make him paranoid that any number of them could eventually succeed over the course of the evening.
< all combined, enough to drive him insane, like an endless, night long Chinese water torture.
< the fact they come out mostly at night, when the human is more vulnerable, shows they are an evil creation, evolved over time, masterminded by a shrewd God to torment humans.
< evil and his naisis < (counter evil)
< when he finally hears one close enough and is sure one has gotten through the barrier, he quickly pulls out his ready bedside flashlight and tries to hunt it down. But they seem to evade him every time and hide somewhere. He could spend a good half hour looking for that one that just got in but cannot. Pumped full of adrenalin and wide awake from his frustrating hunt, it takes him another good half hour to wander off to sleep. Especially considering he still hears the mosquitoes outside the net and imagines that any one of those annoying whines is lurking somewhere on the "inside".
< Convinced that they actually sense him falling asleep, because after ten minutes of listening for the louder one inside, he slowly doses off, and just as he feels on the point of rem, even getting a sweet taste of sleep for a good micro second, he is jolted out of his slumber by one hovering right over his ear.
< how have evolved from Ontario, where he grew up as a child, with the hind legs, fluffy lightness and evasive flying patterns
< finally sees one and smacks the wall hard in anger, only not to find the comforting mush in the palm of his hand, and mosquito, once again, nowhere to be found. And once again hard to fall asleep.
< Tries to cover his entire self with his sheets, but finds it hard to fall asleep because he’s too warm and ends up breathing his own air, which doesn’t foster a good sleep. So he wraps it around his head with only his nose poking out, his hands tucked in and close to his face, keeping the sheet in place and there ready to swat one of those little buggers. Technically using his head as bait, his alert state making falling asleep difficult. Even after all that, the mosquitoes still occasionally pierce through the sheets into his naked body, or even worse, occasionally on the inside of his nostrils. Being so agile most of the time they manage to pull out and fly away when he tries to get them, coming back for seconds and thirds to fill up their sac. He’ll often find them in the morning, hanging off the ceiling with a full dose of blood. Splattering them to a pizza smear gives him some satisfaction, but considering the Malaria would have transferred if the bug had it, it’s not much consolation at all. Especially considering there are billions of them out there and the death of just one, which could have meant the death of entire him, makes the demise of this one mosquito entirely insignificant. Like the mosquito knew it and hung there in the open to show it.
< Can’t sleep so well during the day, when there are almost no mosquitoes, because of the extreme heat, he sleeps very lightly, and he is stressed because he is under pressure to perform and he is already falling behind in his results.
< Didn’t plan well and his mosquito repellent (or supplies fell in river journey up – have to wait a full two months for the next shipment..)
< parallel malaria and his slow inevitable death to the death < he would have caused with the viruses he could have invented
< they seem extremely intelligent, caniving, devious and sinister. Like offspring of the devil incarnate < himself.
< Eventually he feels a fever and assumes he has caught the parasite. The crew with supplies are due to come in about two weeks, during which time he becomes less and less productive, due to his growing weakness, and realising that the commander will not at all be happy with the little progress he has accomplished, probably resulting in fatal consequences for him, he essentially gives up and lies there, surrendering to the onslaught of little blood sucking vampires, his last strength ebbing away in the wee moonlight hours.
Now his consciousness is fading, while the host of predators viciously feed on him, his last thought floating away in the night like a lone shipwreck dude drifting off into the empty vast ocean in the hopes of finding a saviour.
Now his consciousness awakens, and there he is perched up on a shelf < , the pain of hunger tormenting in his belly. He realises he must be crafty to avoid swift death, so he waits in the silence for his victim below to fall asleep…
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