Le Plan Cerebrum

The Cerebrum Plan


Cerebrum Command Center – Secret Base – Minnesota – July 4, 2033 – Message sent to all group members worldwide.

My brothers and sisters,

On this historic day, symbol of the liberation of our people, the Black Scourge plan will be launched this evening, at midnight, USA time. Each of you has received your roadmap in order to prepare for the advent of our new system which will, finally, allow us to build a society purged of all its useless parasites and yet so harmful to the good of all.
We have worked tirelessly in the shadows, we have anticipated and planned for years to achieve this great day. We have prepared ourselves for the chaos that will ensue because it is the culmination of a life mission begun several decades ago by our enlightened elected officials. The current global situation, the result of these incompetent and corrupt politicians, can no longer be saved.
We must preserve only the elite of humanity who can rise, while leaving the rest to decline.
It is a New World that awaits us in which we will be the undisputed masters and guarantors of a better future that lives up to our vision!

The Chamberlain.


Paris – TF1 JT [1] from 8 p.m. – December 21, 2033–Address by the President of the Republic.

Dear fellow citizens,

The Black Scourge virus has infected more than half the world's population in a matter of weeks, transforming loved ones into monsters hungry for human flesh and devoid of all rational thought. They became “Zothers” to use the term of the survivors who were able to bear witness to the consequences of this catastrophe on those around us.
The laboratory that we suspected of being at the origin of this catastrophic pandemic has just been destroyed by an explosion of such magnitude that we can no longer hope to recover any of their work. We therefore no longer have any hope of a cure or vaccine.
Researchers from all countries who have been collaborating for days, however, have discovered that the Zothers are particularly attracted to human body heat, which they detect in infrared. This mode of vision due to the virus which transforms the cornea would allow them to spot their targets, but not to correctly distinguish the details. It would be thanks to pheromones that they would be able to recognize a person, because they apparently only attack humans, although animals can however be contaminated by the virus if they are bitten. In this case, you must slaughter them and above all not consume their flesh, because you in turn would be infested with all the consequences that we unfortunately now know only too well.
I draw your attention to the only weak point that we have been able to observe so far, because it is the only chance to be able to escape an attack from Zothers. They fear water which seems to panic them, especially when they get it on them or when they are immersed in it. They don't die from it, but it can allow you to stop them in their tracks and buy you the time you need to escape.
Finally, the only way to destroy them definitively is to target the head, and above all, to detach the brain from the brainstem, otherwise they continue to live, so to speak, and to be contagious. On the other hand, once the brain is destroyed, the virus is no longer transmissible a priori, but researchers are not 100% certain because there are mutations that have already been observed for two months. These variations seem to have amplified the aggressiveness as well as the incubation time which unfortunately went from a few hours to a few minutes. If one of your loved ones is contaminated, you must absolutely destroy it immediately, or you yourself will be condemned.
These are the only keys to survival that I can communicate to you on this disastrous day and it is with solemnity and regret that I announce to you this evening that humanity is lost. The state is no longer able to ensure the security of our country. The few officials still alive are with me and we will do our best to communicate news to you as it comes, but without any guarantee, the Zothers having massively invaded our capital. We are sheltering in a shelter but they are camped in front of our door as I speak to you and our defenses are being undermined by their repeated attacks. I wish you survival…

Black screen.


Cerebrum France command center – Sacré-Cœur Base – Paris – January 1, 2034–Message sent to all members of the group around the world.

My brothers and sisters,

The Black Scourge having foiled our projections, we had to adapt our plans. As far as France is concerned, we are entrenched in the Montmartre district where we have established our HQ [2] .
The laboratory there is now operational with all the information we have been able to gather and we are working to find a solution to adapt the vaccine initially designed before the virus mutations.
We are hopeful that we will be able to achieve this given the profile of our members, and we need to keep communication open between us, even if the infrastructure is destroyed in places.
Please respond to this message with any new data you may have noticed so that we can finish what we started. Attached is a summary of our latest work.

The Chamberlain.

Unanswered message...

Chapter 1

Year 2222 – Pocket of survivors – Paris – White Citadel.

Bérénice – Cerebra Prima

Concentrated on the book that I am filling with diligence in order to carefully transcribe the fruit of my research on the Black Scourge, I do not hear the door open behind my back and I jump, making an erasure on my page.
“Forgive me, Miss Bérénice,” Aléna moaned, pale with fear at the vision of the catastrophe. I didn't want to surprise you but you didn't answer when I knocked.
“Don’t worry,” I reply calmly, even if I grimace inwardly. What's so important that you bother me at work?
The Corpus, although having joined the White Citadel for several months now, still seems inhabited by fear. Her hair has grown a few centimeters and a light red down surrounds her face which has regained some color in the absence of curves. It will still take time for her to regain physical balance, and even more for the psychological side, if she succeeds. Because, like all the Corpus of the Red Area, she was traumatized by her life in this human fauna on the one hand, and the fight against the Zothers on the other. At sixteen, she now has a much greater chance of survival, protected by our enclosure, even if she doesn't really seem to believe it.
Integrating these Corpus into our ranks requires patience that I don't have in stock when I'm immersed in my research. However, I must admit that she understood her tasks relatively quickly, and that she serves me quite well on a daily basis. Not like the previous one that I had to send away because she wasn't capable of anything and didn't take care of my things. Finding good serfs [3] is a difficult exercise, especially given my rank and my responsibilities within the White Citadel. - I asked you a question to which I would like an answer, I asked again. 'a tone drier than I wanted in the face of his frightened silence.
“The Chamberlain has sent for you urgently,” stammers the unfortunate woman before hastily leaving the room.
What a pain! Exasperated both by my clumsiness and by this unexpected setback, I carefully close my book with a sigh. My days were run like clockwork and I still had a good two hours to finish transcribing the results I had just discovered. I am at a critical stage of my study, I feel that the solution is close! My life mission is important, even vital, because I am supposed to be the one who finds the cure to the Black Scourge. For as long as I can remember, I have focused on my work and accepted few interruptions that take me away from my goal, even temporarily.
Torn between the desire to continue as planned, and the order received which will make me fall behind on my schedule, I resolve to grab my cape hanging on the hook near the window. Indeed, the daughter of the head of the White Citadel could not appear without the appropriate pomp for such a summons. Because the subject must be important to be convened outside of the planned weekly meetings.
Peering out the window of the tower in which I have lived since my birth twenty-two years ago, I see a battalion in the paved courtyard. They are small dots from this height but perfectly identifiable thanks to their blue combinations. From my apartments, I have a breathtaking view of the surrounding area: the old stone buildings but also the greenhouses, the stables, the mill, the well and especially the technical rooms. All this protected by the energy dome which protects us from the outside like an impassable rampart while providing us with an ideal temperate climate for crops and livestock.
According to the ancient texts that I study daily, our White Citadel is similar to a fortified village, so numerous in the Middle Ages. It was also established on a hill which was formerly called Montmartre and allows it to dominate what remains of the large city which was the nerve center of the country in the past. Rubble in places where bombs dropped as a last resort destroyed everything, and rather well preserved remains in others. This gives a heterogeneous and bizarre landscape in its diversity where craters of gutted streets rub shoulders with Haussmannian buildings still standing.
Noticing the plastic coolers on the backs of a few men, I deduce that the Delta unit is back and that this justifies this interruption. I hope to finally get the samples I need to continue my work. Exhilarated by this prospect, I rush towards the Directum room, being careful not to fall down the stone staircase.
It must be said that my immaculate white toga is not really practical for moving around, but it is the symbol, just like my cape, of my status as Cerebra Prima, future Chamberlain when my father is no longer. Only Cerebrums have the right to wear this color in order to identify priority people to save in the event of an attack, because we are humanity's only chance of survival.
Regaining my composure after my little run, I enter with a more measured step into the immense nave which serves as a meeting place for the leaders of our community. Our ancestors chose this place after the Inferno [4] , because it was an ancient church, the Sacré-Cœur of its period name, whose thick stone walls guaranteed relative security against the Zautre. In addition, it was connected to an independent underground source, essential to our survival. For almost two centuries, we have reconquered the space, and now, the entire perimeter two kilometers around the hill where we established our Citadel benefits from the enclosure set up by our predecessors.
— Here you are at last, Bérénice! exclaims my father, the Chamberlain. Delta unit reported what you requested.
— Perfect, I suspected it when I noticed the men in the courtyard. Can I see them? The battalion chief walks towards me to hand me a cooler. Surprised by the weight, I let it fall with a dull thud covered by the captain's cry of pain, hit in the calf by the box.
—What's wrong with your leg? I asked, suspiciously, while cautiously taking a few steps back.
At my words, the battalion assigned to the security of the Directum, our governance, deploys, drawing their swords from their sheaths to interpose themselves between the Delta unit and our dignitaries. Everyone freezes and stares at their leader, rigid with mixed anger and fear.
“It’s nothing,” he says through gritted teeth. A scratch without consequence.
— You were hit by a Zautre! exclaims Harold, my father's second in command. And you dare to return to the White Citadel, disregarding the safety of us all? Alpha Unit, take him to the gates of the Red Area immediately! This is unacceptable and I would hold you personally responsible if it had the misfortune to happen again, he spat at the head of the unit responsible for his protection.
- It's not that ! exclaims the incriminated captain. I fell on the edge of a beam during a fight! Thanks to the serum, I am not contaminated, and…
“It doesn’t matter,” the Chamberlain interrupts sharply. Even if you're not infected, you're hit enough that you can't take a weak hit. Because the cooler didn't hit you very hard. You can no longer be efficient if you are injured. You know our rules perfectly. No one useless can have a place among us.
I look at the unit leader who has no choice but to walk towards the exit, escorted not only by the Alpha unit, but also by his men from the Delta unit who stare at him with resentment tinged with anger. relief. It is true that the Chamberlain showed clemency by not condemning the battalion as a whole: they were all negligent in not noticing their leader's injury and they know it. Empathy or emotional connection is not what allows our community to survive.
Even if I wanted to help him, my father's look would have dissuaded me. We are barely managing to maintain the able-bodied community and unfortunately do not have the resources to deal with people who contribute nothing. It is the harsh law of the White Citadel, but it is just for the survival of all.
Sweeping away the thought of this man who will in any case be replaced within a minute, I return to my laboratory with my precious burden. I can't wait to see if my deductions are correct.

[1] Television News.
[2] Headquarters.
[3] Name designating in the Middle Ages people attached to an estate which they exploited for a lord. He had the right of life or death over them. It was a form of slavery.
[4] Name given to the period of the Black Scourge in reference to the Underworld in Dante's Divine Comedy.

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