Join The Story, Save The Infected: Pandemic at Sundance

2: Pandemic at Park City (Sundance 2011)

Did you hear the news? There’s a new flu bug going around.

It’s probably nothing to worry about.

Or is it?

People aren’t feeling well. Coughing, sneezing, stuffy noses, low-grade fevers.

They want to sleep. During the day, at least.

At night, the sickness changes form.

Those in its thrall might be seen sleep-walking. Or sleep-eating. Some hoard objects. Others wander the streets unaware. And this is only the beginning.

Rumor: Is it true that the flu only affects adults? What is it that makes an adult, anyway?

Park City is the nexus of the outbreak, but it’s happening everywhere.

And it’s only the second day.

You have 120 hours to become part of the story.

Tweet with the hashtag #pandemic11. Whether from your own account or another of your creation.

Follow the stories of our characters — characters like Anna, like Billy, like Bree. Or like the others. Look for the Twitter accounts with the yellow backgrounds and black numbers.

Tell your tale. Whether it’s one tweet or 100, maybe what you tell the world can save it from the spreading sickness. Or maybe it’ll be a record left behind by the next generation.

If they’re still alive. And if they’re still sane.

What do you see? Are you sick? Are your parents sick? Follow the story. Then tell your own.

Don’t forget to check the Hope Is Missing YouTube channel.

Or the Facebook page (check out the faces of the 50).

And if you’re on the ground at Park City: head to Mission Control at Sundance: New Frontier to see how you can make a difference. Maybe you even want to request a scare

6 comments

  • The slopes are empty. The runs untracked. Fresh powder abounds, our stashes runneth over. We who run the lifts are overjoyed. No more weaving between Texans skiing in jeans and women in make-up caked thick against the chill air. Our mountain is silent as the backcountry.

    But guests are not the only ones missing from the slopes. The lift operators, too, have been absent. Our numbers dwindle as more names get circled on the check-in board, question marks beside them.

    We say that film people must not ski. But who could come to Park City in January and not hit the slopes? We make excuses for our fellow lifties, saying they must have the Powder Fever. Or is it another type of fever?

    I have seen the disoriented walk through the snow, sinking to their knees and continuing on, despite the numerous shops where they could rent snowshoes. Others put their ski boots on the wrong feet and attempt to carve turns as though nothing is wrong. They are quickly removed by ski patrol.

    Perhaps someone is trying to keep us unaware of what is happening. But our goggle tans are a testament to the fact that we are not blind from sun, snow, or anything else. I’m sharpening my ski poles.

  • I have joined the story as @Keith_Infected on the Twitters. Gotta say, it’s more fun than I expected. Like having an online table-top character without the dice. And a bit like writing flash.

    I hope it’s causing a stir at Sundance and that articles and blogs are written of the expirience.

    Good show, Wendig and Co!

    K

  • Daycare workers falling asleep on the job, won’t wake up. Parents who were supposed to pick up their kids at midday, not answering phones. School kids calling anyone they can reach to pick them up because they can’t find their parents. Only half the school buses are running because the drivers are out sick, apparently.

    I’m going in to work because there’s no one left to cover Anthony’s closing shift.

    Jesus, what the hell is going on around here?

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