Rabid Blue

In the late 1970’s, the Soviet Union built a small, secret space program on an uninhabited island (codenamed ‘Hapis’) off the southwest coast of Africa. This remote testing site served as an experimental launch and research location for almost a decade. However, the cost of facility and program upkeep proved to be unsustainable as the USSR approached its collapse. In 1989, an ambitious US based aerospace engineering company named Cobalt purchased the island. This piece of land had few government regulations and the island was rich with many valuable metal alloys needed for facility expansion and product development. After years of contract work , Cobalt had finally positioned themselves to form their own space exploration program.

Soon after setting up on the island, Cobalt employees noticed unusual characteristics of the local wildlife. Both plants and animals seemed to age much slower than normal while visible signs of diseases/injuries were nonexistent – flora and fauna on Hapis were thriving unlike anywhere else on earth. Cobalt had no intention of abandoning its space program, but adding a genetic research branch to an already successful science based organization? That was an easy decision.

Cobalt quickly formed an all-star team of genetic researchers and the fountain of youth was soon discovered within a previously unknown species of blue berry. This tiny piece of fruit contained a uniquely potent antioxidant compound that slowed aging, increased injury recovery speeds, and completely cured many different diseases. Despite strong, vocal criticism from employees, Cobalt executives decided to keep this discovery a secret and patent a genetically modified strain of the berry to “possibly” be released at a later date.

Soon after this discovery, it became very apparent internally that Cobalt was no longer a simple aerospace engineering company. Security clearances grew more and more strict as animal experimentation, undisclosed human clinical trials, and cutting edge genome manipulation became the top priority at Cobalt. Space was now only half of the goal – the seemingly impossible idea of immortality was the other leg.

But Cobalt’s dreams were cut short by a small group of rogue employees in 1992. Unhappy with the company’s gross human rights violations and Cobalt’s unwillingness to share its discovery with the global medical community, this team took extreme measures and sabotaged the program by initiating a nuclear meltdown in one of the remaining poorly maintained USSR reactors. Many Cobalt employees died that day, most of the facilities were ruined, and the program never returned.

Following the infamous Hapis island incident, radioactive nuclear waste and a variety of experimental berry compound samples leaked out into the soil and rivers throughout the island, resulting in extreme and unexpected changes to the native wild blue berries. The euphoric healing properties of these genetically modified berries became exponentially more potent than those originally discovered by Cobalt but can no longer be consumed raw. When eaten in larger quantities, Hapis island blue berries cause two extremely dangerous side effects – high levels of oxidative stress in the brain and an uncontrollable fever.

Those affected with what is now called ‘blue rabies’ become hyper aggressive, possess only the most basic cognitive functions, and can be easily identified by high concentrations of bioluminescent compounds in their eyes. Put simply, blue rabies makes you mean, dumb, and have glowing eyes. 

The year is now 2024 and the blue berries on Hapis are well known globally. A new Cobalt has returned to the island along with various paramilitary mercenary groups, both intent on harvesting as many berries as possible. The third and final piece of the Hapis island berry war is Russia, and by association, you. You are one of thousands of convicted criminals who signed up for the Hapis Island Release program, where sentence time is reduced in exchange for berries collected.

You wake up naked on the beach of Hapis to start the first day of your new sentence. Good luck.