Today was a tiring day. We had six fights of sufficient magnitude to attract the police break out throughout the afternoon. The worst of them wrecked several market stalls and involved a dozen participants. When the unruly combatants were called to account for themselves, most of them just babbled incoherently. We've placed them all in cells until we can figure out what the matter is.
I'd been meaning to spend the day at the park with my daughters, but had to cancel our plans to deal with the unexpected violence. No matter, I shall set aside a day later this week for them.
There doesn't seem to be any sane reason for it. There's no factionalism going on that I know of; in fact, the city has been running quietly and smoothly for several months. Tempers tend to flare as temperatures rise, but six random brawls in a single day, without provocation? I cannot even find any common thread to the fighters aside from the fact that the ones who started each fight are either not talking or acting unduly confused.
Ah, Salat has reported to me, saying that his medics are baffled and cannot tell what the matter is. It's certainly nothing that the medical automaton has been programmed to handle before. This is certainly disconcerting—perhaps it is some Wyld-mutated illness that hitched a ride on some far traveller. I shall have to alert the Deliberative and petition them for help.
The Deliberative responded immediately. Reflecting Prism, member of the Eclipse Caste and a doctor of some renown, arrived precisely at dawn to assess the situation. Her assistant, a cheery young Sidereal named Chejop fresh out of the academy and doing the first year of his practicum, spent the morning setting up a variety of diagnostic and predictive devices while she examined the patients. They had developed marked changes overnight, ceasing their babbling. Most of them now stared forward sullenly, and when they moved about, they tended to do so in groups, showing an usual and eerie coordination.
I was called away almost immediately, as the situation in the city continues. There were twenty violent incidents that morning that the police caught, and I suspect they were others as well. Several of them involved armed gangs of apparently unrelated citizens provoking others for no reason.
At noon, I broke to meet with Reflecting Prism for lunch, which did little to improve my day. She reported that whatever was afflicting these people was completely unknown to her. They did not appear to have anything physically wrong with them, though they were generally uncooperative with respect to being examined. The detainees from this morning have been much the same, and of as little use. An unknown disease present in my city troubles me greatly. I lost much of my appetite, and allowed her to question me on the nature of any caravans that we had received recently, not that we get many in an out-of-the-way outpost like this. As a safety precaution, she advised sealing the city and putting a quarantine into effect, in case there was a contagious threat present. Reluctantly, I agreed.
As I took out the guard to enact the quarantine, there was already a small crowd of protesters outside the Hall of Administrative Oversight, demanding that we do something about the rampant violence. By the time I returned from the Command and Control Manse and had made the announcement that the city would be sealed for the next few days, the crowd had tripled. There was a group near the edge, of maybe a dozen people or so, that were just standing there, and gave me the same sullen stares as the brawlers we had picked up. I mentioned this to Reflecting Prism, but they were gone by the time she came to take a look.
The outbreaks of fighting seem to be intensifying, and taking place all over the city. I am weary, and will collapse into bed as soon as I finish this entry.
I was pulled out of bed today over an hour before dawn. The random brawls have turned into a much more serious problem. There's now several armed mobs roaming the streets, causing systematic violence and mayhem. We first became aware of the problem when they raided the 3rd armory, overwhelming the guards and looting the place to arm themselves. I've mobilized all the reservists and instituted a curfew, but based on the reports and the images from the Over-Eye, we're dealing with a whole-scale insurrection involving several thousand people.
Reflecting Prism gave up examining the prisoners to go out on a patrol with me and see the situation up-front. When we beat back the first assault, she said that it felt like some of our attackers had been spending Essence. I opened my senses, and sure enough, the tell-tale patterns hung in the air. All our assailants looked to have been mortal, however. An unknown disease that turns men into raging, Essence-wielding mobs is like something out my worst nightmare.
We retreated to the Hall of Administrative Oversight, only to find that all the holding cells were empty and the guards missing. There were no signs of violence, and the weapons stores were gone as well. Did the guards free the prisoners and join them? What manner of madness is this?
Reflecting Prism decided that a report needed to be made, so she handed over her records to her young assistant and gated him back to Meru. Less than an hour later, a cherub appeared, whispering into her ear. We have been given a Writ of Authorization to use any and all means necessary to contain and investigate this outbreak. This include activating the city defenses, even deploying Halo-class sterilization and containment weapons if need be. I don't even want to think about that. I'm not sure I could condemn so many to such a fate, even if we have no other way of stopping this and it threatens to break out into the rest of Creation. I'm as tired as a corpse, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Arandas reported that my house has been sacked, and that there was no sign of my family. Maybe they're hiding. Maybe they've joined the mob. Maybe they're dead. I have no idea.
They grow more numerous by the hour. I estimate that fully three-quarters of the city's population has been consumed by the madness, and the remaining holdouts will be slain or converted by nightfall. Reflecting Prism's attempts to diagnose, much less treat the cause have been fruitless. She is terrified that it will spread past the city and infect all of Creation. She tries to hide it—it would not do to have a Solar showing fear—but I can see it in her eyes. Once the last defenders fall, the horde will deactivate the defenses and escape. There is very little time left. I will activate the Halo. I would ask the Sun to preserve us all, but I know there is no hope of that.
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