by R E Kearney
She replaces her map with ground level visuals of the infected locations. “They are incorrectly calling it heart fever. It is my theory that this highly contagious mutation is flourishing in these areas because their hot, humid, wet conditions favor its survival. Also, they are rural areas of poverty, with many unvaccinated horses and no major medical facilities. So, they are medicating themselves and each other, and spreading it.”
A shaky visual of an excavator shoving dirt into a large trench filled with bodies appears. “My sources smuggled these visuals to me. They indicate that thousands of people have died from this during the past six to nine months and that thousands more are infected. The mortality rate is one hundred percent. Entire country communities have died. The US government is struggling to contain it, but once it starts, it spreads fast and can’t be stopped. Now, the government is just attempting to squash all information about it.”
After studying the sampling results herself, Shengwu poses her own question. “You say Glanders causes ulcerating nodules, but you do not indicate that aortic ruptures are a result of Glanders. Are the aortic ruptures from something else?”
“I am not a doctor, Shengwu.” Pion tersely responds. “Lacking a better description, I am calling it a Glanders mutation because of its basic genetic structure. You are correct. My research concerning Glanders did not indicate that individuals infected by it normally die this fast or experience such high temperature fevers or suffer cardiac arrest due to aortic rupture. It may be a Glanders mutation. It may be something else. You may call it what you wish.”
Robert, Rita and Shengwu stare silently at each other. Having no suggestion, Rita shrugs her shoulders. With her eyes, Shengwu motions toward Robert who is mentally searching the floor for an answer.
“Aethon! Call it Aethon.” Robert finally proclaims, quite pleased with himself. “Aethon is Greek for burning and blazing and in Greek mythology Aethon was the lead horse of the four horses that pulled the chariot of the sun god Helios across the sky. Aethon is my name for this blazing-hot, horse-borne disease.”
Shengwu and Rita nod their heads in resigned agreement, adopting the name Aethon.
“Very well, I shall code name the samples I have analyzed as Aethon and use that name for all subsequent related genome trials.” Pion announces, “Individual encrypted, genome engineering and editing algorithms are being transmitted to the appropriate editing instruments.”
“Engineered and edited tissue should be ready for patient transplant within the hour.” Shengwu declares, then she explains to Rita, who is staring at her confused. “What we are doing Rita is engineering the original Aethon genomes so they’ve become anti-Aethon. Now, when we transplant them back into their host patient they are carried on microscopic nanoparticles that act as nanotransporters. Basically, the nanotransporters haul the edited Aethon genomes directly to the Aethon infection. In theory…”
Still concerned about the intent of the suspicious code packet and what it could do to the genomic engineering algorithms, Robert interrupts Shengwu’s explanation. “How secure is your data encryption, Shengwu? I noticed an irregular code packet during my analysis leading me to believe an advance persistent threat has been launched against your facility.”
“We employ only the SPEA space satellite network along with asymmetric encryption with public and private keys. I think that is sufficient.”
“When you are optimistic and life is going well is when you relax and are the most vulnerable to attack.” Robert warns her.
“So, I’m not protected? Isn’t SPEA’s cyber security enough?”
“For the moment, perhaps. I don’t think the hackers are close to zero day launch, so my discovery of that suspect packet may have forestalled its activation. But, I think you need to be very careful. If someone is sufficiently determined and creative, it’s impossible to implement airtight controls over the transmission of digital information. Hackers can intercept your satellite network and access your data with the same cheap software and equipment they use to steal satellite television signals.”
“Ok, if you say so. That’s why you’re here.” She brushes off, Robert to continue her explanation to Rita. “...Uh, where was I…oh yes…in theory, the edited genomes should destroy the Aethon that is killing the patient without injuring any other tissue or organs. I just hope we’ve correctly engineered the anti-Aethon and we’re not too late. If they had cancer instead of Aethon, I’d say some of them are in stage four.”
Robert rubs his index finger along his nose, continuing to think about the strange packets. Knowing that the weakest link in every computer security system is the human user, he seeks to learn which door Shengwu opened allowing the hackers access. “Have you been accessing some different professional sites lately? I think you may have possibly picked up that strange packet at one of those. Hackers lurk in those sites like crocodiles at watering holes just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting visitors.”
With her concentration elsewhere, Shengwu replaces her biohazard suit helmet never hearing Robert’s question. “Now let’s observe these transplants. From the bad, I will make the good.”
The transplanting process is not easy to monitor with the patients encapsulated in a sanitary chamber. As the trio treks from room to room, each patient’s vitals appear in a display viewable on their window. Robert notices the patients’ temperatures are climbing past one hundred and six. Their blood pressures are highly elevated and pulse rates are pounding at one hundred and twenty or higher. They are racing toward death.
When they reach the end of the corridor, the transplants are complete. Nurse-bots begin retrieving the patients and shuttling them to their transport drones.
“Now, we’ll see if we’ve engineered an effective genetic response.” Shengwu revolves and studies the room windows lining the corridor. “But, we won’t know for a while. They may require weeks to begin beating Aethon and rebounding. We just don’t have the proper facilities to stabilize them here. We have to return them to the hospital for their recovery.”
“Well, you know William Osler said that the good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.” Robert smugly grins. “So, you must be a great physician.”
“Thanks for that insight and praise, but I’m a genome engineer. I modify DNA and RNA. I’m not a doctor. I leave the healing to the doctors.”
FAITH HEALER HANDS
“Join me my brethren around our fallen brother Abel. We shall pray for his soul’s deliverance from his earthly pain to the glory of heaven. For he has made the ultimate sacrifice in the service of our savior, Jesus Christ. He fell victim to the foul poison spewing forth from this abyss…this hall of Hell before us. He died so that you may live.”
Standing at Abel’s head, faith healer Fili Diaboli is leading his fellow Stamina Vitae protestors in a prayer of remembrance. Abel’s bleeding body lies before him upon a brown-paper covered folding-table. Reaching forward, he covers Abel’s pavement scraped and bloody face with his hands. Each of his fellow healers mirror him and place their hands upon the man’s body. Diaboli closes his eyes and lifts his face skyward. His flock lower their heads and close their eyes.
In the hushed, intense heat, the prayers’ sweat splatters upon Abel’s body like salty rain. Plit. Plat. Plit. Plat. Plit. Plat. Then, finally, Diaboli speaks. In a deep commanding voice, he begins exorcising the dead man’s disease demons.
“In the name of Jesus, under the power and authority of the Lord God Almighty, I command all forms of demonic illness to leave the body of Abel Kane now and go straight to the feet of Jesus Christ. Your assignment and influences are over. I rebuke all pain in the name of Jesus, and I command it to get out of his body right now. I rebuke all spirits of infirmity, nerve disorder, lung disorder, brain disorder, heart disease, AIDS, cancer, hypochondria, fatigue, anorexia, leukemia, arthritis, tumors, abnormal growths, diabetes and all other forms of sickness to leave Abel Kane’s body now i
n the name of Jesus. Amen”
“Amen.” The flock responds.
Reverentially, Diaboli and his flock end their prayer and step back from Abel’s body. Near Abel’s feet, a woman wobbles then drops to her knees with a groan. With a thump, she collapses onto the ground unconscious. Her shallow breathing is rapid and rattling. A stream of pink snot flows onto her chin. Sweat is bubbling from her fiery red skin.
Immediately, her fellow spiritualists surround her. Together, they gently lift her to carry her to another table. Drifting into consciousness, she groans again and begins wailing nonsensical words. On the table, she claws at her chest.
Diaboli takes her hands in his hands and pulls them away from her chest. “Gather around my children. Lay your hands upon Sister Ruth. Hold her in your hearts. We must pray together to drive the evil spirits from her body.”
Ruth twists and writhes in agony, fighting against their restraining praying hands. She bucks upward and then falls against the table. Coughing and choking she battles to breathe.
Struggling to control her hands, Diaboli closes his eyes and begins reciting his prayer of healing. “Please fill me with your healing power. Cast out all that should not be inside of Ruth. I ask you to mend all that is broken, root out every sickness and disease, open all blocked arteries and veins, restore her internal organs, rebuild her damaged tissues, remove all inflammation and cleanse her of all infections, viruses and destructive forms of bacteria. Amen.”
Ruth’s eyes and mouth explode open. Silently screaming, she strains upward. Collapsing, she crashes against the table. She chokes a ragged breath. A sigh. Nothing more.
“She rests. I have healed her. For it is written in Exodus that I am the Lord who heals you.” Diaboli triumphantly raises his arms.
“Praise the Lord!” Shout the gathered raising their hands in a heavenly salute. Their eyes close. They murmur personal prayers. Several sob.
From the dust, a feral cat Ruth befriended, leaps onto the table and licks the sweat from Ruth’s cheek. The cat’s mewing calls her fellow faithful’s attention back to Ruth. Diaboli waves his hand at the cat attempting to shoo it away. Ignoring him, it continues tongue cleansing Ruth’s face of sweat, snot and blood. Finally, a young girl gently lifts the concerned cat off Ruth, cradles it in her arms and carries it away. Whispering, “go away now”, the girl releases the cat at the edge of the tent. It scampers to join a young boy playing in the nearby park.
“She is dead.” Announces a young man staring at Ruth’s open, blank eyes.
Reaching forward, Diaboli gently closes her eyes. “Your mother Ruth is at rest in the lap of our Lord, Obed. She shall suffer no more pain. She is in tranquility. So, let us remember the wisdom of Psalm one hundred and three that says, bless the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgives all your iniquities; who heals all your diseases.”
“My children, cleanse, clothe and prepare our brother Abel and his sister Ruth to return in peace to their homes and families in Kentucky. I shall speak with our spiritual leaders and arrange for their homecoming.” Diaboli directs as he walks out of the tent. “We require more Christian soldiers to continue our battle. Brother Abel and Sister Ruth have passed into heaven and the Jacobs brothers have yet to join us. I must return to my church and my flock to recruit more fighters for our faith. I shall raise a holy army for Jesus. A holy army that will destroy this ungodly, sin filled coven, like the tribe of Israel destroyed Jericho, with great sound and fury.”
He turns to face his disciples and raises his arms above his head to inspire them to continue his fight while he is recruiting. “Remember as we are told in Deuteronomy, be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the Lord your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.”
As he is ending his encouragement, the medical transport drones depart Stamina Vitae. Diaboli angrily shakes his fist toward them. “We must stop this profane sacrilege. Beginning now, you will no longer back down. You will stand your ground and halt all who seek to enter this den of depravity. For you are the warriors of God.”
“Although, my body may be far away for many days, my spirit will be here with you.” Diaboli grips the shoulder of Obed. “Brother Obed will be my eyes and my ears here, while I am summoning more Christian soldiers. Stand firm my children until I return with an army of the pure and just. For God and country we shall not stop fighting until we crush this demon and his ungodly chamber of incubi.”
DEAD LIFE
“The dead will kill you.”
“Why do you say that, Pion?”
“The dead are worse than the living, Robert. Aethon is more virulent and more infectious in the dead. Without the victim’s immune system fighting against it Aethon multiplies exponentially and spreads throughout the body faster. Analyzing the samples from those sick patients, indicated Aethon was reproducing by dividing through binary fission every twenty minutes. In the dead bodies, every single Aethon organism is dividing into two after only ten minutes. One becomes two. Two becomes four. And in a few hours that first nasty pathogen explodes into millions making every bodily fluid highly contagious.”
“Mortui viventes docent.” Robert mumbles.
“Yes, the dead do teach the living.” Pion nods in agreement. “You’re correct, Robert.”
Shengwu disappears into contemplation. Her wide-open eyes see nothing but her inner thoughts. She is calculating. Robert watches her face contort into a grimace. Apparently, the consequences of her considerations do not please her.
Frowning, Shengwu emerges from her cloud of thoughts. She exclaims excitedly. “Ok. Robert and Rita, we must take action. Now! Immediately! If Aethon spreads as fast as Pion says, we may already be too late. First, we must alert Negocio. If we don’t get this under control, Aethon will devastate Puerto Rico. Second, quarantine Old San Juan. Lock it down. All of these people came from Old San Juan. So, we must keep it in the city. No more tourists in and no more tourists out. No, make that nobody in and nobody out.”
Alarmed, Rita throws up her hand. “Stop. Wait. More than four hundred thousand people live in San Juan. Thousands of tourists, too. You can’t tell thousands of tourists that they cannot leave. Especially since it’s the holiday season. This is our busiest tourist season.”
“Do you want a pandemic on top of as a possible epidemic?” Shengwu barks. “I’m especially worried about the tourists. The sick and dying are all tourists. They’re not Puerto Ricans. But, they can spread it to Puerto Ricans.”
Now concerned, Rita quizzes Pion. “Robert and I were in the same bar as all of those people with Aethon. Are we infected?”
“Did you touch them? Did they touch you? Did you have contact with any of their bodily fluids? Since Aethon is not yet transmitted through the air, unless you touched their blood, sweat, tears, mucous or feces, you should not be infected. But to be certain, you and Rita must receive genetic analysis to ensure you’re clean.” Pion’s diagnostically logical response is not reassuring.
Robert flinches. “Is it necessary for you to drill into me with a needle? Can’t you just look for symptoms?”
“No. I believe that by the time external symptoms appear, it is dangerously late. But, if you desire, you two can just take your chances, since you believe that you didn’t come into contact with any of those who are infected and you don’t have any symptoms so far.” Shengwu remarks as she activates a separate computer.
“So far!” Rita extends her left index finger toward Shengwu. “So far?!”
“Truthfully, I’m not comfortable conducting genetic sampling on any healthy people until I have completely sterilized all of my equipment and rooms, and reviewed all of my current data. Also, before I engineer any additional anti-Aethon genomes, I need to see some improvement in the four people I’ve already treated. A cure in theory may not cure in reality.”
“But, that may take days or weeks.” Rita fretfully proclaims. “Hundreds more may ge
t sick or even die by then.”
“My facility is not capable of battling an epidemic. I cannot fight Aethon alone and one victim at a time, Rita. Genetic engineering and genome modification is an individual treatment not a mass treatment.”
Pacing and thinking, Robert searches through his limited medical knowledge for a possible revelation. He discovers no inspiration. For, just as Shengwu confessed about herself earlier, he also is no doctor. He is a hacker tracker.
Rita is no help either. He notices that she is repeatedly placing the back of her hand against her forehead searching for a little heat indicating a fever. She seems to be making herself sick worrying about becoming sick. Robert is surprised. He did not expect someone capable of callously inducing dysentery in others to be a hypochondriac.
“I think I’m beginning to feel warm.” Rita presses her right palm against her cheek and reaches for Robert’s left hand. “Feel my forehead and tell me if you think I’m hot.”
Recoiling, Robert yanks his hand out of Rita’s reach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Remember, Aethon travels through bodily excretions. Don’t want no strange sweat on me.”
“Strange sweat! We’ve shared a lot more than sweat.” Rita again reaches for Robert’s hand.
“True, but you weren’t dying then.” Robert teases, keeping his hand just out of her reach.
Rita scowls at him. She does not appreciate his jest. Turning away from Robert, she wipes her fingertips against her forehead. Her fingers are dry, but she remains concerned that she is discovering Aethon symptoms.
“Actually, Robert is correct Rita. Aethon is extremely transmissible. I believe we should avoid human contact to avoid contamination.” Shengwu adjusts her bio-hazmat suit. “We can’t go anywhere in these, but I’m not leaving here without some protection. None of us know just how far this Aethon has spread or how many people are infected. We must be cautious.”