The Earth Hearing

by Daniel Plonix

  One of the commissioners noted, “I can only repeat what my esteemed colleague said: evil distilled. Destroying the fundamental tenet of self-accountability is but another dimension of it.”

  “It is not much of a scheme,” interjected another commissioner. “There has to be more.”

  “There is,” the Examiner announced. And every eye was on him.

  Rafirre paused. Everything he presented was leading up to this point. “Your Graces,” he said, “to be saved from eternal burning at the lake of fire, a person needs to regard God the Son as his savior. Furthermore, one needs to experience a heartfelt sorrow for one’s past sins, renounce them, and adopt a sincere commitment to lead a life in keeping with the precepts laid out by the Son and the Father. In other words,” he continued over the sound of rising mutters, “to consummate the process of salvation of oneself, a person must acknowledge their sinful self, believe the Son died for their sins, and accept his authority over one’s life and morals. This is the only way.”

  He bowed and was about to step away, but then stopped. “Almost forgot,” he said. “A worrisome aspect of evangelical Christianity is its view of life on Earth—which it regards but as a way station, a short prelude, to the everlasting life in the great Hereafter. Underneath the joyous church songs, glowing smiles and warmth, it’s a death cult. For the true adherents, the planet signifies precious little; it’s but a stage where one struts and frets his hour upon, die and face judgment, the curtain rises—and one’s existence begins in earnest.”

  The Examiner turned to face the handful of Earth people seated in front of him. The poor, deluded fools. “May the commission have mercy on your souls,” he told them.

  Chapter 40

  Aratta prevailed on two of the five commissioners who had attended the religion session to allocate one or two additional hours to this subject.

  “Christianity is widely recognized as a faith,” Aratta was explaining, “and, for many, it is well on its way to being relegated to the religious dustbin called ‘mythology.’ Conversely, when a set of beliefs possesses full potency, it is not acknowledged as such; it is simply treated as what’s so, the truth.” Aratta told the two. “The Terraneans are brimming over with those.

  “Your Graces, I wish to bring you up close with one: a case in point. But for this, I need to first tell you a little story.”

  “Very well, Lord Aratta,” replied one of the two commissioners.

  “For at least a few centuries,” Aratta opened, “smallpox has had a presence in Europe, exerting a notable toll.

  “In the late eighteenth century, a physician by the name of John Haygarth uncovered the chain of transmission of the virus: how it passes from one person to another, the proximity threshold, and the conditions conducive to its spread.

  “Subsequently, he came up with a protocol, which he put to the test in 1778. Among other things, no one was to enter an afflicted house; no one who showed signs of infection would visit public places; no item suspected of being contaminated should leave the premises; and everything was to be carefully washed and scrubbed after the illness abated. Fourteen families adhered to his protocol and spread no disease. The smallpox they carried was contained.

  “With the success of this test case, he put together, in 1793, a monograph containing a detailed blueprint to ‘exterminate smallpox from Great Britain.’ The plan entailed an extensive network of public health inspectors who were to enforce case isolations.

  “His scheme was widely read and discussed, with some clergymen implementing his protocol and getting positive results. Other voices of medical professionals joined his.

  “In Leipzig, Germany, Dr. Faust agreed with Haygarth that smallpox was not an unavoidable evil, but something that can and ought to be eradicated. He outlined a plan for the construction of an isolation ward in each town, and as soon as any person is infected, he should be placed in it. He opined that if these measures were set in place, then within a handful of years smallpox would be a thing of the past.

  “History was about to be made. A systematic, continent-wide isolation and early notification scheme would have effectively broken the lines of transmission of the disease and may have put an end to it in a matter of years or decades. But then something else grabbed the imagination of the Western world with a promise of perfect and everlasting fix.

  “As a consequence, numerous people were to needlessly die in the century to come.”

  “I gather this is where the plot thickens,” stated one of the commissioners with a faint smile.

  Aratta lowered his head in acknowledgment. “To tell you what un­folded, I first need to explain a few things.

  “The universal belief was that whoever had once contracted smallpox, never suffers a second attack. In addition, it was found that there was a way one can contract the disease in a mild form. When you put those two things together, you arrive at the rationale for inoculation. Namely, the deliberate introduction of small amounts of infectious material from smallpox vesicles into the skin of healthy subjects. The intent was to induce a mild smallpox, which would result in immunity to the more severe, naturally-acquired disease.

  “Occasionally, people died of inoculation, but many were willing to play the odds. The practice gained popularity in Great Britain around 1738 and really took off in 1765.

  “But not all was well. It became evident that while the inoculated may stand less chance of experiencing the disease in a severe form, the practice had inadvertently been introducing the small pox into towns and villages previously free from it. You see, those inoculated proved contagious, as they carried the virus with full potency. Mass inoculations were likely to have caused a net increase in death from smallpox in Great Britain.

  “Contagion was a problem looking for a solution.

  “Tales of people who avoided contracting smallpox through their acquisition of the non-contagious cow pox were commonplace in farming communities. Several individuals deliberately inoculated themselves or a few others with the cow pox. One of them was a physician by the name of Jenner. He inoculated a few people and then made some far-reaching claims. This got some attention. In 1799, Dr. Woodville and Dr. Pearson decided to put this age-old notion to the test.

  “The two doctors inoculated a few hundred people with cow pox that, as it turned out later, was contaminated with smallpox. Woodville and Pearson proceeded to ship out their microbial cocktail to other physicians, and the number of test cases rose to about two thousand.

  “The big question was whether the new, cow pox based inoculation would ward off smallpox.

  “Now we are getting to the peculiar part of the story. The physicians made the decision not to wait for the possible reaction from a naturally occurring smallpox. Instead, after administering the cow pox cocktail, they had the subjects come back at a later date and receive the conventional small­pox inoculation to see if the subjects resisted it.

  “The smallpox inoculation that followed the cow pox inoculation produced for the most part the same effects as it always did. Some cases had a single pustule—pocks with pus in them—some had eruptions of numerous pustules, and some had a local inflammation.

  “Subsequently, a surgeon at the Manchester Infirmary who partook in the clinical trial, congratulated mankind on the success of the novel cow pox inoculation. He wasn’t the only one.”

  “Well, they did succeed. The subjects did not succumb to the smallpox inoculation administered in the heels of the cow pox one.”

  “Your Grace, as I noted earlier, the subjects rarely succumbed—that is, die—from smallpox inoculations, notably in the milder procedure used after 1765. The cow pox inoculation they had administered prior did not affect different outcomes in the smallpox inoculation applied afterward. All that many of the physicians described were simply the symptoms one expects from smallpox inoculation.

  “At best, this clinical trial proved nothing,
one way or another. At worst, the trial proved the cow pox inoculation had no effect of any kind. At any rate, given the fact most of the cow pox inoculation was contaminated with the smallpox virus, the most charitable thing that can be said is that a haze of uncertainty surrounds this pivotal study.

  “This is how it came to be that history recorded that a perfect antidote and security against the smallpox was produced, an inoculation that is not contagious and provides a lifetime of protection.

  “In July 1800, the Testimonial in Favour of the New Inoculation was proverbially nailed to the door of a church. Signed by a few dozen prominent physicians in London, it hailed the new inoculation and promised sure and everlasting protection from smallpox.

  “The Testimonial had a great effect on the public mind; to the majority it proved irresistible. And the chief author of the Testimonial dared to defy the whole world to produce a single instance of a person that had had any experience of the disease who was not a staunch defender of the novel inoculation. The coup was over; the new cow pox inoculation, henceforth to be known as vaccination, reigned supreme from this point on. A new belief took hold of the Western world and beyond. Largely, it has been immune to doubts or challenges; and in that respect, it did tend to provide a lifetime immunity. That is why I wished to share and bring it to your attention.

  “It didn’t take long for the first reports to emerge of small-pox fatalities of those previously vaccinated. But by then it was too late to stem the tide.”

  Musselburgh, Scotland, Summer 1809

  The sun was close to setting as Aratta and the two commissioners found themselves in a broad, unpaved street facing a row of adjoining buildings that formed one continuous block. The building right in front of them held a sign proclaiming “Musselburgh Arms.”

  They had entered a reflection that was old and heavily degraded; both the sky and the ground sported ominous black gaps.

  “This is as far back as I can take you, Your Graces. This is about eight to nine years away from ground zero, eight to nine years after the birth of vaccinism.” Aratta motioned toward the doorway, and the three of them entered the inn, eyeing warily the rips in the fabric of the aging reflection.

  Two seated men rose when they spotted them.

  Aratta introduced them. “Gentlemen, this is Dr. Maclean, a medical doctor, and Mr. Brown, a local surgeon.” The men all shook hands and took seats. Moments later, they ordered sage cheese and veal and were to share a bottle of claret. Pleasantries were exchanged, then they got to talk about the smallpox vaccine.

  In reply to a question by Aratta, Mr. Brown said, “As it turned out, in an outbreak in Hampshire, dozens who had been vaccinated prior, contracted smallpox in the natural course of events and died. There was another outbreak in Chesterfield where nine vaccinated people contracted smallpox at a later date, and two had died.”

  “As a matter of fact, there were earlier reports yet,” noted Dr. Maclean. “Mr. Simmons, a farmer near Buntingford, was vaccinated in 1802. Three years later, he was infected with smallpox and died.”

  “How did the medical profession explain it?” inquired Aratta.

  Mr. Brown sighed. “We started claiming there were genuine and spur­ious vaccines. You see, if the patient should die of inflammation of the puncture, we might conclude the material administered via the vaccine was not genuine. Others maintained that the good or ill success of the vaccine depended on the period in which it was given. New books, new instructions, have seemingly appeared every month. And the milder cases of smallpox were classified away as chicken pox, horse pock, or flea bites.”

  Dr. Maclean laughed. “Nothing but the most desperate and headstrong zeal can demand credit for such a tissue of absurdity.” He took a sip of wine. “A few years back, England was swarming with vaccinators. All the fussy folk who had a taste for doing much good at little cost were playing the cow pox lancet.”

  “They could not deny it was an experiment,” said Mr. Brown, “of which the degree of security could only be ascertained by time.” He gestured, somewhat resigned. “But we all insisted on the propriety of instantaneously subjecting the whole human race to a course of this experiment.”

  “You see,” said Dr. Maclean, “Mr. Brown here was an early convert.”

  “Guilty,” the surgeon said, nodding. “Vaccination was introduced as a perfect antidote and security against smallpox without any exception or reserve. I accepted this, and as a result, I rejected and explained away many cases which were entitled to the most serious attention.” He smiled somewhat abashedly. “I have shown myself as violent and unreasonable a partisan as any of my brethren in propagating the practice.”

  A waitress brought their food, and they all busied themselves for a few minutes.

  Dr. Maclean blotted his lips with his napkin and chuckled. “Along with everyone else, Mr. Brown here has been afflicted by cow mania.” He got up and spoke in a theatrical voice. “To doubt its efficacy was among medical men to incur, if not the suspicion of insanity, at least the penalty of excommunication. The zeal with which the fanatics persecuted their opponents was scarcely ever exceeded by the odium theologicum. If they did not burn every unbeliever, they dexterously undermined his practice and ruined his reputation. Whoever had not taken the oaths of supremacy and allegiance to vaccination or who dared to question the infallibility of cow pox were treated as traitors to the royal vaccinating state. Their empire was to be universal, and they endeavored to crush every cool observer who questioned their novel and sure procedure.” He gave a slight bow and sat back down, grinning.

  The surgeon looked at him dubiously. “Well, yes,” he eventually said. “Indeed, why do not the supporters of vaccination come out collectively and declare they are as much convinced as ever of its utility, its infallibility, in securing mankind against smallpox—now that seventy-­five people who had been vaccinated died after contracting the disease at a later date?”

  Aratta watched intently a floating fragment of black void slowly drifting their way. The ripple they had entered was unsafe, close to a general collapse.

  “Hear, hear!” said Dr. Maclean, banging with his hand on the wooden table.

  “The mind of man is composed of curious materials,” Mr. Brown told the seated men. “Not only it may warp judgment, but having once unequivocally adopted a medical practice or a remedy, and having gone great lengths in propagating it, few have candor and resolution to retract it.” The wooden floor next to them was eroding away. Oblivious to it, Mr. Brown kept explaining, “In none more so than in medicine is the mind inclined to systematize. A thousand errors may be committed without the least perception of guilt, and hundreds of our fellow men may suffer, without producing the smallest amend—”

  Without warning, the two commissioners found themselves in an alley.

  “It was unsafe to stay in that ripple any longer,” apologized Aratta to the slightly-bewildered commissioners. “This reflection must have deteriorated quite a bit since I have last visited it. But here we are: the next site I wished to take you to.”

  Leicester, England, Spring 1885

  Aratta motioned, and the three of them walked toward the far end of the alley. The ripple sported some cracks, but they were only hair-thin. “It was in 1802,” Aratta said, “when it was declared by the authorities that as soon as the new inoculation became universal, it would ‘absolutely extinguish one of the most destructive disorders by which the human race has been visited.’ Word of it spread fast around the world and the vaccinations even faster. By 1807, a quarter million people had already been vaccinated in the city of Madras, India.”

  They reached the main thoroughfare, where tens of thousands of people marched with flying banners. Aratta raised his voice to be heard. “But the early reports of the demise of the disease have been greatly exaggerated.

  “Your Graces, we are in 1885. Generations have passed from the time we ate veal with M
r. Brown and Dr. Maclean. Since then, a generation has grown somewhat skeptical and indifferent. But medical men, who are expected to do something against every ailment, rarely surrender a prescription until it can be replaced by another.

  “Throughout the country, parents protested against the lack of apparent effectiveness coupled with possible serious complications. They were paying too high premiums for the insurance, as one of them told me. And in India and Ceylon, families with vaccines forced on their children employed every means possible to rub out the vaccine, suck it out, or cauterize the area where it was administered.

  “Widespread mortality from smallpox in vaccinated London generated outcries that the unvaccinated were the culprit. And in 1853, the government made smallpox vaccination compulsory. Reluctant mothers were compelled to the Vaccination Stations under threats of summons and fines. Schools have been inspected in search of unvaccinated children. Consequently, by 1870, the population had the highest vaccination rates ever.

  “Shortly afterward, a smallpox pandemic swept through, resulting in tens of thousands of dead people, many of whom were vaccinated. It was the deadliest smallpox pandemic in living memory.

  “This was the last straw for many parents, asking in record numbers whether improved sanitation, good food, and quarantines were not, in fact, the best ways to deal with smallpox. This anti-vaccine rally you see here is the culmination, where things came to a head in the city of Leicester on March 23, 1885. There are delegates here of anti-vaccination leagues from about forty towns around the country.”

  They joined the giant procession of tens of thousands of people. The city had declared it a holiday, and children, mothers, and entire families were marching gaily on that sunny spring day.

  “People arrived here by trains from throughout England, and letters and telegrams of support came from Europe and America,” said Aratta.