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diff --git a/26206-h/26206-h.htm b/26206-h/26206-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7487ed --- /dev/null +++ b/26206-h/26206-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1848 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pandemic, by J. F. Bone + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.poem {text-align: left; font-style: italic;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figcenter {margin: 1em auto; width: 555px;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 368px; text-align: right;} + .poem {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; font-size: large;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .i0,.i1,.i2,.i3,.i4 {display: block; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .i0 {margin-left: 0em;} + .i1 {margin-left: 1em;} + .i2 {margin-left: 2em;} + .i3 {margin-left: 3em;} + .i4 {margin-left: 4em;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {font-size: 300%; vertical-align: baseline; line-height: .7em;} + .bk1 {float: left; margin: 2em 4em 2em 0;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pandemic, by Jesse Franklin Bone + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pandemic + +Author: Jesse Franklin Bone + +Illustrator: Barberis + +Release Date: August 6, 2008 [EBook #26206] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANDEMIC *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Dave Lovelace, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><h1><big>Pandemic</big></h1> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">Generally,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">human beings don't do<br /></span> +<span class="i1">totally useless things<br /></span> +<span class="i2">consistently and widely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So—maybe there is<br /></span> +<span class="i4">something to it—<br /></span> +</div> + +<h2>BY J. F. BONE</h2></div> + +<p>■ "We call it Thurston's Disease for +two perfectly good reasons," Dr. +Walter Kramer said. "He discovered +it—and he was the first to die of it." +The doctor fumbled fruitlessly +through the pockets of his lab coat. +"Now where the devil did I put those +matches?"</p> + +<p>"Are these what you're looking +for?" the trim blonde in the gray +seersucker uniform asked. She picked +a small box of wooden safety matches +from the littered lab table beside +her and handed them to him.</p> + +<p>"Ah," Kramer said. "Thanks. +Things have a habit of getting lost +around here."</p> + +<p>"I can believe that," she said as +she eyed the frenzied disorder around +her. Her boss wasn't much better +than his laboratory, she decided as +she watched him strike a match +against the side of the box and apply +the flame to the charred bowl of his +pipe. His long dark face became half +obscured behind a cloud of bluish +smoke as he puffed furiously. He +looked like a lean untidy devil recently +escaped from hell with his +thick brows, green eyes and lank +black hair highlighted intermittently +by the leaping flame of the match. +He certainly didn't look like a pathologist. +She wondered if she was going +to like working with him, and shook +her head imperceptibly. Possibly, but +not probably. It might be difficult being +cooped up here with him day after +day. Well, she could always quit +if things got too tough. At least there +was that consolation.</p> + +<p>He draped his lean body across a +lab stool and leaned his elbows on its +back. There was a faint smile on his +face as he eyed her quizzically. +"You're new," he said. "Not just to +this lab but to the Institute."</p> + +<div class="figright"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="368" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +<b><small>ILLUSTRATED BY BARBERIS</small></b></div> + +<p>She nodded. "I am, but how did +you know?"</p> + +<p>"Thurston's Disease. Everyone in +the Institute knows that name for the +plague, but few outsiders do." He +smiled sardonically. "Virus pneumonic +plague—that's a better term for +public use. After all, what good does +it do to advertise a doctor's stupidity?"</p> + +<p>She eyed him curiously. "<i>De mortuis?</i>" +she asked.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "That's about it. We +may condemn our own, but we don't +like laymen doing it. And besides, +Thurston had good intentions. He +never dreamed this would happen."</p> + +<p>"The road to hell, so I hear, is +paved with good intentions."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," Kramer said dryly. +"Incidentally, did you apply for +this job or were you assigned?"</p> + +<p>"I applied."</p> + +<p>"Someone should have warned you +I dislike clichés," he said. He paused +a moment and eyed her curiously. +"Just why did you apply?" he asked. +"Why are you imprisoning yourself +in a sealed laboratory which you +won't leave as long as you work here. +You know, of course, what the conditions +are. Unless you resign or are +carried out feet first you will remain +here ... have you considered what +such an imprisonment means?"</p> + +<p>"I considered it," she said, "and it +doesn't make any difference. I have +no ties outside and I thought I could +help. I've had training. I was a nurse +before I was married."</p> + +<p>"Divorced?"</p> + +<p>"Widowed."</p> + +<p>Kramer nodded. There were plenty +of widows and widowers outside. +Too many. But it wasn't much worse +than in the Institute where, despite +precautions, Thurston's disease took +its toll of life.</p> + +<p>"Did they tell you this place is +called the suicide section?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Weren't you frightened?"</p> + +<p>"Of dying? Hardly. Too many +people are doing it nowadays."</p> + +<p>He grimaced, looking more satanic +than ever. "You have a point," he admitted, +"but it isn't a good one. +Young people should be afraid of +dying."</p> + +<p>"You're not."</p> + +<p>"I'm not young. I'm thirty-five, +and besides, this is my business. I've +been looking at death for eleven +years. I'm immune."</p> + +<p>"I haven't your experience," she +admitted, "but I have your attitude."</p> + +<p>"What's your name?" Kramer said.</p> + +<p>"Barton, Mary Barton."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m. Well, Mary—I can't +turn you down. I need you. But I +could wish you had taken some other +job."</p> + +<p>"I'll survive."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with faint admiration +in his greenish eyes. "Perhaps +you will," he said. "All right. +As to your duties—you will be my +assistant, which means you'll be a +dishwasher, laboratory technician, +secretary, junior pathologist, and +coffee maker. I'll help you with all +the jobs except the last one. I make +lousy coffee." Kramer grinned, his +teeth a white flash across the darkness +of his face. "You'll be on call +twenty-four hours a day, underpaid, +overworked, and in constant danger +until we lick Thurston's virus. You'll +be expected to handle the jobs of +three people unless I can get more +help—and I doubt that I can. People +stay away from here in droves. +There's no future in it."</p> + +<p>Mary smiled wryly. "Literally or +figuratively?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He chuckled. "You have a nice +sense of graveyard humor," he said. +"It'll help. But don't get careless. Assistants +are hard to find."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I won't. +While I'm not afraid of dying I don't +want to do it. And I have no illusions +about the danger. I was briefed +quite thoroughly."</p> + +<p>"They wanted you to work upstairs?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"I suppose they need help, too. +Thurston's Disease has riddled the +medical profession. Just don't forget +that this place can be a death trap. +One mistake and you've had it. Naturally, +we take every precaution, but +with a virus no protection is absolute. +If you're careless and make errors +in procedure, sooner or later one +of those submicroscopic protein molecules +will get into your system."</p> + +<p>"You're still alive."</p> + +<p>"So I am," Kramer said, "but I +don't take chances. My predecessor, +my secretary, my lab technician, my +junior pathologist, and my dishwasher +all died of Thurston's Disease." He +eyed her grimly. "Still want the job?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"I lost a husband and a three-year +old son," Mary said with equal grimness. +"That's why I'm here. I want to +destroy the thing that killed my family. +I want to do something. I want +to be useful."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "I think you can be," +he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Mind if I smoke?" she asked. "I +need some defense against that pipe +of yours."</p> + +<p>"No—go ahead. Out here it's all +right, but not in the security section."</p> + +<p>Mary took a package of cigarettes +from her pocket, lit one and blew +a cloud of gray smoke to mingle with +the blue haze from Kramer's pipe.</p> + +<p>"Comfortable?" Kramer asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>He looked at his wrist watch. "We +have half an hour before the roll tube +cultures are ready for examination. +That should be enough to tell you +about the modern Pasteur and his +mutant virus. Since your duties will +primarily involve Thurston's Disease, +you'd better know something about +it." He settled himself more comfortably +across the lab bench and +went on talking in a dry schoolmasterish +voice. "Alan Thurston was an +immunologist at Midwestern University +Medical School. Like most men +in the teaching trade, he also had a +research project. If it worked out, +he'd be one of the great names in +medicine; like Jenner, Pasteur, and +Salk. The result was that he pushed +it and wasn't too careful. He wanted +to be famous."</p> + +<p>"He's well known now," Mary said, +"at least within the profession."</p> + +<p>"Quite," Kramer said dryly. "He +was working with gamma radiations +on microorganisms, trying to produce +a mutated strain of <i>Micrococcus +pyogenes</i> that would have enhanced +antigenic properties."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, doctor. It's been +four years since I was active in nursing. +Translation, please."</p> + +<p>Kramer chuckled. "He was trying +to make a vaccine out of a common +infectious organism. You may know +it better as <i>Staphylococcus</i>. As you +know, it's a pus former that's made +hospital life more dangerous than it +should be because it develops resistance +to antibiotics. What Thurston +wanted to do was to produce a strain +that would stimulate resistance in the +patient without causing disease—something +that would help patients +protect themselves rather than rely +upon doubtfully effective antibiotics."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't a bad idea."</p> + +<p>"There was nothing wrong with it. +The only trouble was that he wound +up with something else entirely. He +was like the man who wanted to +make a plastic suitable for children's +toys and ended up with a new explosive. +You see, what Thurston didn't +realize was that his cultures were contaminated. +He'd secured them from +the University Clinic and had, so he +thought, isolated them. But somehow +he'd brought a virus along—probably +one of the orphan group or possibly +a phage."</p> + +<p>"Orphan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—one that was not a normal +inhabitant of human tissues. At any +rate there was a virus—and he mutated +it rather than the bacteria. Actually, +it was simple enough, relatively +speaking, since a virus is infinitely +simpler in structure than a +bacterium, and hence much easier to +modify with ionizing radiation. So he +didn't produce an antigen—he produced +a disease instead. Naturally, he +contracted it, and during the period +between his infection and death he +managed to infect the entire hospital. +Before anyone realized what they +were dealing with, the disease +jumped from the hospital to the college, +and from the college to the +city, and from the city to—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that part of it. It's +all over the world now—killing people +by the millions."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"Well," Kramer said, "at least it's +solved the population explosion." He +blew a cloud of blue smoke in Mary's +direction. "And it did make Thurston +famous. His name won't be quickly +forgotten."</p> + +<p>She coughed. "I doubt if it ever +will be," she said, "but it won't be remembered +the way he intended."</p> + +<p>He looked at her suspiciously. +"That cough—"</p> + +<p>"No, it's not Thurston's Disease. +It's that pipe. It's rancid."</p> + +<p>"It helps me think," Kramer said.</p> + +<p>"You could try cigarettes—or +candy," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather smoke a pipe."</p> + +<p>"There's cancer of the lip and +tongue," she said helpfully.</p> + +<p>"Don't quote Ochsner. I don't +agree with him. And besides, you +smoke cigarettes, which are infinitely +worse."</p> + +<p>"Only four or five a day. I don't +saturate my system with nicotine."</p> + +<p>"In another generation," Kramer +observed, "you'd have run through +the streets of the city brandishing an +ax smashing saloons. You're a lineal +descendent of Carrie Nation." He +puffed quietly until his head was surrounded +by a nimbus of smoke. "Stop +trying to reform me," he added. +"You haven't been here long +enough."</p> + +<p>"Not even God could do that, according +to the reports I've heard," +she said.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "I suppose my reputation +gets around."</p> + +<p>"It does. You're an opinionated +slave driver, a bully, an intellectual +tyrant, and the best pathologist in +this center."</p> + +<p>"The last part of that sentence +makes up for unflattering honesty of +the first," Kramer said. "At any rate, +once we realized the situation we +went to work to correct it. Institutes +like this were established everywhere +the disease appeared for the sole purpose +of examining, treating, and experimenting +with the hope of finding +a cure. This section exists for the +evaluation of treatment. We check +the human cases, and the primates in +the experimental laboratories. It is +our duty to find out if anything the +boys upstairs try shows any promise. +We were a pretty big section once, +but Thurston's virus has whittled us +down. Right now there is just you +and me. But there's still enough +work to keep us busy. The experiments +are still going on, and there +are still human cases, even though +the virus has killed off most of the +susceptibles. We've evaluated over a +thousand different drugs and treatments +in this Institute alone."</p> + +<p>"And none of them have worked?"</p> + +<p>"No—but that doesn't mean the +work's been useless. The research has +saved others thousands of man hours +chasing false leads. In this business +negative results are almost as important +as positive ones. We may never +discover the solution, but our work +will keep others from making the +same mistakes."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of it that way."</p> + +<p>"People seldom do. But if you +realize that this is international, that +every worker on Thurston's Disease +has a niche to fill, the picture will be +clearer. We're doing our part inside +the plan. Others are, too. And there +are thousands of labs involved. Somewhere, +someone will find the answer. +It probably won't be us, but we'll +help get the problem solved as quickly +as possible. That's the important +thing. It's the biggest challenge the +race has ever faced—and the most +important. It's a question of survival." +Kramer's voice was sober. +"We have to solve this. If Thurston's +Disease isn't checked, the human +race will become extinct. As a result, +for the first time in history all mankind +is working together."</p> + +<p>"All? You mean the Communists +are, too?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. What's an ideology if +there are no people to follow it?" +Kramer knocked the ashes out of his +pipe, looked at the laboratory clock +and shrugged. "Ten minutes more," +he said, "and these tubes will be +ready. Keep an eye on that clock +and let me know. Meantime you can +straighten up this lab and find out +where things are. I'll be in the office +checking the progress reports." He +turned abruptly away, leaving her +standing in the middle of the cluttered +laboratory.</p> + +<p>"Now what am I supposed to do +here?" Mary wondered aloud. "Clean +up, he says. Find out where things +are, he says. Get acquainted with +the place, he says. I could spend a +month doing that." She looked at +the littered bench, the wall cabinets +with sliding doors half open, the jars +of reagents sitting on the sink, the +drainboard, on top of the refrigerator +and on the floor. The disorder +was appalling. "How he ever manages +to work in here is beyond me. +I suppose that I'd better start somewhere—perhaps +I can get these bottles +in some sort of order first." She +sighed and moved toward the wall +cabinets. "Oh well," she mused, "I +asked for this."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"Didn't you hear that buzzer?" +Kramer asked.</p> + +<p>"Was that for me?" Mary said, +looking up from a pile of bottles and +glassware she was sorting.</p> + +<p>"Partly. It means they've sent us +another post-mortem from upstairs."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—man or monkey, it +makes no difference. Whatever it is, +it's Thurston's Disease. Come along. +You might as well see what goes on +in our ultra modern necropsy suite."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to." She put down the bottle +she was holding and followed +him to a green door at the rear of +the laboratory.</p> + +<p>"Inside," Kramer said, "you will +find a small anteroom, a shower, and +a dressing room. Strip, shower, and +put on a clean set of lab coveralls and +slippers which you will find in the +dressing room. You'll find surgical +masks in the wall cabinet beside +the lockers. Go through the door beyond +the dressing room and wait for +me there. I'll give you ten minutes."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"We do this both ways," Kramer +said as he joined her in the narrow +hall beyond the dressing room. "We'll +reverse the process going out."</p> + +<p>"You certainly carry security to a +maximum," she said through the +mask that covered the lower part of +her face.</p> + +<p>"You haven't seen anything yet," +he said as he opened a door in the +hall. "Note the positive air pressure," +he said. "Theoretically nothing can +get in here except what we bring +with us. And we try not to bring +anything." He stood aside to show her +the glassed-in cubicle overhanging a +bare room dominated by a polished +steel post-mortem table that glittered +in the harsh fluorescent lighting. +Above the table a number of jointed +rods and clamps hung from the ceiling. +A low metal door and series of +racks containing instruments and +glassware were set into the opposite +wall together with the gaping circular +orifice of an open autoclave.</p> + +<p>"We work by remote control, just +like they do at the AEC. See those +handlers?" He pointed to the control +console set into a small stainless steel +table standing beside the sheet of +glass at the far end of the cubicle. +"They're connected to those gadgets +up there." He indicated the jointed +arms hanging over the autopsy table +in the room beyond. "I could perform +a major operation from here +and never touch the patient. Using +these I can do anything I could in +person with the difference that there's +a quarter inch of glass between me +and my work. I have controls that +let me use magnifiers, and even do +microdissection, if necessary."</p> + +<p>"Where's the cadaver?" Mary +asked.</p> + +<p>"Across the room, behind that +door," he said, waving at the low, +sliding metal partition behind the table. +"It's been prepped, decontaminated +and ready to go."</p> + +<p>"What happens when you're +through?"</p> + +<p>"Watch." Dr. Kramer pressed a +button on the console in front of him. +A section of flooring slid aside and +the table tipped. "The cadaver slides +off that table and through that hole. +Down below is a highly efficient crematorium."</p> + +<p>Mary shivered. "Neat and effective," +she said shakily.</p> + +<p>"After that the whole room is +sprayed with germicide and sterilized +with live steam. The instruments go +into the autoclave, and thirty minutes +later we're ready for another post-mortem."</p> + +<p>"We use the handlers to put specimens +into those jars," he said, pointing +to a row of capped glass jars of +assorted sizes on a wall rack behind +the table. "After they're capped, the +jars go onto that carrier beside the +table. From here they pass through +a decontamination chamber and into +the remote-control laboratory across +the hall where we can run biochemical +and histological techniques. Finished +slides and mounted specimens +then go through another decontamination +process to the outside lab. +Theoretically, this place is proof +against anything."</p> + +<p>"It seems to be," Mary said, obviously +impressed. "I've never seen +anything so elegant."</p> + +<p>"Neither did I until Thurston's Disease +became a problem." Kramer +shrugged and sat down behind the +controls. "Watch, now," he said as +he pressed a button. "Let's see what's +on deck—man or monkey. Want to +make a bet? I'll give you two to one +it's a monkey."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">The low door slid aside and a steel +carriage emerged into the necropsy +room bearing the nude body of a +man. The corpse gleamed pallidly under +the harsh shadowless glare of the +fluorescents in the ceiling as Kramer, +using the handlers, rolled it onto the +post-mortem table and clamped it in +place on its back. He pushed another +button and the carriage moved back +into the wall and the steel door slid +shut. "That'll be decontaminated," he +said, "and sent back upstairs for +another body. I'd have lost," he remarked +idly. "Lately the posts have +been running three to one in favor of +monkeys."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="555" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>He moved a handler and picked +up a heavy scalpel from the instrument +rack. "There's a certain advantage +to this," he said as he moved +the handler delicately. "These gadgets +give a tremendous mechanical +advantage. I can cut right through +small bones and cartilage without +using a saw."</p> + +<p>"How nice," Mary said. "I expect +you enjoy yourself."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't ask for better equipment," +he replied noncommittally. +With deft motion of the handler he +drew the scalpel down across the +chest and along the costal margins +in the classic inverted "Y" incision. +"We'll take a look at the thorax first," +he said, as he used the handlers to +pry open the rib cage and expose the +thoracic viscera. "Ah! Thought so! +See that?" He pointed with a small +handler that carried a probe. "Look +at those lungs." He swung a viewer +into place so Mary could see better. +"Look at those abscesses and necrosis. +It's Thurston's Disease, all right, +with secondary bacterial invasion."</p> + +<p>The grayish solidified masses of +tissue looked nothing like the normal +pink appearance of healthy lungs. +Studded with yellowish spherical abscesses +they lay swollen and engorged +within the gaping cavity of the chest.</p> + +<p>"You know the pathogenesis of +Thurston's Disease?" Kramer asked.</p> + +<p>Mary shook her head, her face +yellowish-white in the glare of the +fluorescents.</p> + +<p>"It begins with a bronchial cough," +Kramer said. "The virus attacks the +bronchioles first, destroys them, and +passes into the deeper tissues of the +lungs. As with most virus diseases +there is a transitory leukopenia—a +drop in the total number of white +blood cells—and a rise in temperature +of about two or three degrees. +As the virus attacks the alveolar +structures, the temperature rises and +the white blood cell count becomes +elevated. The lungs become inflamed +and painful. There is a considerable +quantity of lymphoid exudate and +pleural effusion. Secondary invaders +and pus-forming bacteria follow the +viral destruction of the lung tissue +and form abscesses. Breathing becomes +progressively more difficult as +more lung tissue is destroyed. Hepatization +and necrosis inactivate more +lung tissue as the bacteria get in their +dirty work, and finally the patient +suffocates."</p> + +<p>"But what if the bacteria are controlled +by antibiotics?"</p> + +<p>"Then the virus does the job. It +produces atelectasis followed by progressive +necrosis of lung tissue with +gradual liquefaction of the parenchyma. +It's slower, but just as fatal. This +fellow was lucky. He apparently +stayed out of here until he was almost +dead. Probably he's had the +disease for about a week. If he'd +have come in early, we could have +kept him alive for maybe a month. +The end, however, would have been +the same."</p> + +<p>"It's a terrible thing," Mary said +faintly.</p> + +<p>"You'll get used to it. We get one +or two every day." He shrugged. +"There's nothing here that's interesting," +he said as he released the +clamps and tilted the table. For what +seemed to Mary an interminable +time, the cadaver clung to the polished +steel. Then abruptly it slid off +the shining surface and disappeared +through the square hole in the floor. +"We'll clean up now," Kramer said +as he placed the instruments in the +autoclave, closed the door and +locked it, and pressed three buttons +on the console.</p> + +<p>From jets embedded in the walls +a fine spray filled the room with fog.</p> + +<p>"Germicide," Kramer said. "Later +there'll be steam. That's all for now. +Do you want to go?"</p> + +<p>Mary nodded.</p> + +<p>"If you feel a little rocky there's +a bottle of Scotch in my desk. I'll +split a drink with you when we get +out of here."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Mary said. "I think I +could use one."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"Barton! Where is the MacNeal +stain!" Kramer's voice came from the +lab. "I left it on the sink and it's +gone!"</p> + +<p>"It's with the other blood stains +and reagents. Second drawer from +the right in the big cabinet. There's +a label on the drawer," Mary called +from the office. "If you can wait until +I finish filing these papers, I'll come +in and help you."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," Kramer's +voice was faintly exasperated. "Ever +since you've organized my lab I +can't find anything."</p> + +<p>"You just have a disorderly mind," +Mary said, as she slipped the last +paper into its proper folder and +closed the file. "I'll be with you in a +minute."</p> + +<p>"I don't dare lose you," Kramer +said as Mary came into the lab. +"You've made yourself indispensable. +It'd take me six months to undo what +you've done in one. Not that I mind," +he amended, "but I was used to +things the way they were." He looked +around the orderly laboratory with a +mixture of pride and annoyance. +"Things are so neat they're almost +painful."</p> + +<p>"You look more like a pathologist +should," Mary said as she deftly removed +the tray of blood slides from +in front of him and began to run the +stains. "It's my job to keep you free +to think."</p> + +<p>"Whose brilliant idea is that? +Yours?"</p> + +<p>"No—the Director's. He told me +what my duties were when I came +here. And I think he's right. You +should be using your brain rather +than fooling around with blood stains +and sectioning tissues."</p> + +<p>"But I like to do things like that," +Kramer protested. "It's relaxing."</p> + +<p>"What right have you to relax," +Mary said. "Outside, people are dying +by the thousands and you want +to relax. Have you looked at the +latest mortality reports?"</p> + +<p>"No—"</p> + +<p>"You should. The WHO estimates +that nearly two billion people have +died since Thurston's Disease first appeared +in epidemic proportions. +That's two out of three. And more +are dying every day. Yet you want +to relax."</p> + +<p>"I know," Kramer said, "but what +can we do about it. We're working +but we're getting no results."</p> + +<p>"You might use that brain of +yours," Mary said bitterly. "You're +supposed to be a scientist. You have +facts. Can't you put them together?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." He shrugged, +"I've been working on this problem +longer than you think. I come down +here at night—"</p> + +<p>"I know. I clean up after you."</p> + +<p>"I haven't gotten anywhere. Sure, +we can isolate the virus. It grows +nicely on monkey lung cells. But +that doesn't help. The thing has no +apparent antigenicity. It parasitizes, +but it doesn't trigger any immune reaction. +We can kill it, but the +strength of the germicide is too great +for living tissue to tolerate."</p> + +<p>"Some people seem to be immune."</p> + +<p>"Sure they do—but why?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me. I'm not the scientist."</p> + +<p>"Play like one," Kramer growled. +"Here are the facts. The disease attacks +people of all races and ages. So +far every one who is attacked dies. +Adult Europeans and Americans appear +to be somewhat more resistant +than others on a population basis. +Somewhere around sixty per cent of +them are still alive, but it's wiped out +better than eighty per cent of some +groups. Children get it worse. Right +now I doubt if one per cent of the +children born during the past ten +years are still alive."</p> + +<p>"It's awful!" Mary said.</p> + +<p>"It's worse than that. It's extinction. +Without kids the race will die out." +Kramer rubbed his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Have you any ideas?"</p> + +<p>"Children have less resistance," +Kramer replied. "An adult gets exposed +to a number of diseases to +which he builds an immunity. Possibly +one of these has a cross immunity +against Thurston's virus."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you work on that +line?" Mary asked.</p> + +<p>"Just what do you think I've been +doing? That idea was put out months +ago, and everyone has been taking a +crack at it. There are twenty-four +laboratories working full time on that +facet and God knows how many more +working part time like we are. I've +screened a dozen common diseases, +including the six varieties of the +common cold virus. All, incidentally, +were negative."</p> + +<p>"Well—are you going to keep on +with it?"</p> + +<p>"I have to." Kramer rubbed his +eyes. "It won't let me sleep. I'm sure +we're on the right track. Something +an adult gets gives him resistance or +immunity." He shrugged. "Tell you +what. You run those bloods out and +I'll go take another look at the data." +He reached into his lab coat and produced +a pipe. "I'll give it another +try."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I wish you'd read without +puffing on that thing," Mary said.</p> + +<p>"Your delicate nose will be the +death of me yet—" Kramer said.</p> + +<p>"It's my lungs I'm worried about," +Mary said. "They'll probably look like +two pieces of well-tanned leather if I +associate with you for another year."</p> + +<p>"Stop complaining. You've gotten +me to wear clean lab coats. Be satisfied +with a limited victory," Kramer +said absently, his eyes staring unseeingly +at a row of reagent bottles on +the bench. Abruptly he nodded. "Fantastic," +he muttered, "but it's worth a +check." He left the room, slamming +the door behind him in his hurry.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"That man!" Mary murmured. "He'd +drive a saint out of his mind. If I +wasn't so fond of him I'd quit. If +anyone told me I'd fall in love with a +pathologist, I'd have said they were +crazy. I wish—" Whatever the wish +was, it wasn't uttered. Mary gasped +and coughed rackingly. Carefully she +moved back from the bench, opened +a drawer and found a thermometer. +She put it in her mouth. Then she +drew a drop of blood from her forefinger +and filled a red and white cell +pipette, and made a smear of the remainder.</p> + +<p>She was interrupted by another +spasm of coughing, but she waited +until the paroxysm passed and went +methodically back to her self-appointed +task. She had done this many times +before. It was routine procedure to +check on anything that might be +Thurston's Disease. A cold, a sore +throat, a slight difficulty in breathing—all +demanded the diagnostic check. +It was as much a habit as breathing. +This was probably the result of that +cold she'd gotten last week, but there +was nothing like being sure. Now let's +see—temperature 99.5 degrees, red +cell count 4½ million. White cell +count ... oh! 2500 ... leukopenia! +The differential showed a virtual +absence of polymorphs, lymphocytes +and monocytes. The whole slide +didn't have two hundred. Eosinophils +and basophils way up—twenty and +fifteen per cent respectively—a relative +rise rather than an absolute one—leukopenia, +no doubt about it.</p> + +<p>She shrugged. There wasn't much +question. She had Thurston's Disease. +It was the beginning stages, the harsh +cough, the slight temperature, the +leukopenia. Pretty soon her white cell +count would begin to rise, but it +would rise too late. In fact, it was already +too late. It's funny, she thought. +I'm going to die, but it doesn't frighten +me. In fact, the only thing that +bothers me is that poor Walter is going +to have a terrible time finding +things. But I can't put this place the +way it was. I couldn't hope to.</p> + +<p>She shook her head, slid gingerly +off the lab stool and went to the hall +door. She'd better check in at the +clinic, she thought. There was bed +space in the hospital now. Plenty of it. +That hadn't been true a few months +ago but the only ones who were dying +now were the newborn and an occasional +adult like herself. The epidemic +had died out not because of lack of +virulence but because of lack of victims. +The city outside, one of the first +affected, now had less than forty per +cent of its people left alive. It was a +hollow shell of its former self. People +walked its streets and went through +the motions of life. But they were +not really alive. The vital criteria +were as necessary for a race as for an +individual. Growth, reproduction, irritability, +metabolism—Mary smiled +wryly. Whoever had authored that +hackneyed mnemonic that life was a +"grim" proposition never knew how +right he was, particularly when one of +the criteria was missing.</p> + +<p>The race couldn't reproduce. That +was the true horror of Thurston's Disease—not +how it killed, but who it +killed. No children played in the +parks and playgrounds. The schools +were empty. No babies were pushed +in carriages or taken on tours through +the supermarkets in shopping carts. +No advertisements of motherhood, or +children, or children's things were in +the newspapers or magazines. They +were forbidden subjects—too dangerously +emotional to touch. Laughter +and shrill young voices had vanished +from the earth to be replaced by the +drab grayness of silence and waiting. +Death had laid cold hands upon the +hearts of mankind and the survivors +were frozen to numbness.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">It was odd, she thought, how wrong +the prophets were. When Thurston's +Disease broke into the news there +were frightened predictions of the +end of civilization. But they had not +materialized. There were no mass insurrections, +no rioting, no organized +violence. Individual excesses, yes—but +nothing of a group nature. What +little panic there was at the beginning +disappeared once people realized +that there was no place to go. +And a grim passivity had settled upon +the survivors. Civilization did not +break down. It endured. The mechanics +remained intact. People had +to do something even if it was only +routine counterfeit of normal life—the +stiff upper lip in the face of disaster.</p> + +<p>It would have been far more odd, +Mary decided, if mankind had given +way to panic. Humanity had survived +other plagues nearly as terrible as +this—and racial memory is long. The +same grim patience of the past was +here in the present. Man would somehow +survive, and civilization go on.</p> + +<p>It was inconceivable that mankind +would become extinct. The whole +vast resources and pooled intelligence +of surviving humanity were focused +upon Thurston's Disease. And the +disease would yield. Humanity waited +with childlike confidence for the +miracle that would save it. And the +miracle would happen, Mary knew it +with a calm certainty as she stood in +the cross corridor at the end of the +hall, looking down the thirty yards of +tile that separated her from the elevator +that would carry her up to the +clinic and oblivion. It might be too +late for her, but not for the race. Nature +had tried unaided to destroy man +before—and had failed. And her unholy +alliance with man's genius would +also fail.</p> + +<p>She wondered as she walked down +the corridor if the others who had +sickened and died felt as she did. She +speculated with grim amusement +whether Walter Kramer would be as +impersonal as he was with the others, +when he performed the post-mortem +on her body. She shivered at the +thought of that bare sterile room and +the shining table. Death was not a +pretty thing. But she could meet it +with resignation if not with courage. +She had already seen too much for it +to have any meaning. She did not falter +as she placed a finger on the elevator +button.</p> + +<p>Poor Walter—she sighed. Sometimes +it was harder to be among the +living. It was good that she didn't let +him know how she felt. She had +sensed a change in him recently. His +friendly impersonality had become +merely friendly. It could, with a little +encouragement, have developed into +something else. But it wouldn't now. +She sighed again. His hardness had +been a tower of strength. And his bitter +gallows humor had furnished a +wry relief to grim reality. It had been +nice to work with him. She wondered +if he would miss her. Her lips +curled in a faint smile. He would, +if only for the trouble he would have +in making chaos out of the order she +had created. Why couldn't that elevator +hurry?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"Mary! Where are you going?" +Kramer's voice was in her ears, and +his hand was on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" His voice was curiously +different. Younger, excited.</p> + +<p>"I have Thurston's Disease," she +said.</p> + +<p>He didn't let go. "Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"The presumptive tests were positive."</p> + +<p>"Initial stages?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I had the first coughing +attack a few minutes ago."</p> + +<p>He pulled her away from the elevator +door that suddenly slid open. +"You were going to that death trap +upstairs," he said.</p> + +<p>"Where else can I go?"</p> + +<p>"With me," he said. "I think I can +help you."</p> + +<p>"How? Have you found a cure for +the virus?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. At least it's a better +possibility than the things they're using +up there." His voice was urgent. +"And to think I might never have +seen it if you hadn't put me on the +track."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you're right?"</p> + +<p>"Not absolutely, but the facts fit. +The theory's good."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm going to the clinic. I +can't risk infecting you. I'm a carrier +now. I can kill you, and you're too important +to die."</p> + +<p>"You don't know how wrong you +are," Kramer said.</p> + +<p>"Let go of me!"</p> + +<p>"No—you're coming back!"</p> + +<p>She twisted in his grasp. "Let me +go!" she sobbed and broke into a +fit of coughing worse than before.</p> + +<p>"What I was trying to say," Dr. +Kramer said into the silence that followed, +"is that if you have Thurston's +Disease, you've been a carrier for at +least two weeks. If I am going to get +it, your going away can't help. And if +I'm not, I'm not."</p> + +<p>"Do you come willingly or shall I +knock you unconscious and drag you +back?" Kramer asked.</p> + +<p>She looked at his face. It was grimmer +than she had ever seen it before. +Numbly she let him lead her back to +the laboratory.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"But, Walter—I can't. That's sixty in +the past ten hours!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"Take it," he said grimly, "then take +another. And inhale. Deeply."</p> + +<p>"But they make me dizzy."</p> + +<p>"Better dizzy than dead. And, by +the way—how's your chest?"</p> + +<p>"Better. There's no pain now. But +the cough is worse."</p> + +<p>"It should be."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"You've never smoked enough to +get a cigarette cough," he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head dizzily. "You're +so right," she said.</p> + +<p>"And that's what nearly killed you," +he finished triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"I'm certain. Naturally, I can't +prove it—yet. But that's just a matter +of time. Your response just about +clinches it. Take a look at the records. +Who gets this disease? Youngsters—with +nearly one hundred per +cent morbidity and one hundred per +cent mortality. Adults—less than fifty +per cent morbidity—and again one +hundred per cent mortality. What +makes the other fifty per cent immune? +Your crack about leather +lungs started me thinking—so I fed +the data cards into the computer and +keyed them for smoking versus incidence. +And I found that not one +heavy smoker had died of Thurston's +Disease. Light smokers and nonsmokers—plenty +of them—but not one +single nicotine addict. And there +were over ten thousand randomized +cards in that spot check. And there's +the exact reverse of that classic experiment +the lung cancer boys used +to sell their case. Among certain religious +groups which prohibit smoking +there was nearly one hundred per cent +mortality of all ages!</p> + +<p>"And so I thought since the disease +was just starting in you, perhaps I +could stop it if I loaded you with +tobacco smoke. And it works!"</p> + +<p>"You're not certain yet," Mary said. +"I might not have had the disease."</p> + +<p>"You had the symptoms. And +there's virus in your sputum."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—"</p> + +<p>"But, nothing! I've passed the word—and +the boys in the other labs figure +that there's merit in it. We're going to +call it Barton's Therapy in your honor. +It's going to cause a minor social +revolution. A lot of laws are going to +have to be rewritten. I can see where +it's going to be illegal for children +not to smoke. Funny, isn't it?</p> + +<p>"I've contacted the maternity ward. +They have three babies still alive upstairs. +We get all the newborn in this +town, or didn't you know. Funny, +isn't it, how we still try to reproduce. +They're rigging a smoke chamber for +the kids. The head nurse is screaming +like a wounded tiger, but she'll +feel better with live babies to care for. +The only bad thing I can see is that it +may cut down on her chain smoking. +She's been worried a lot about infant +mortality.</p> + +<p>"And speaking of nurseries—that +reminds me. I wanted to ask you +something."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me? I've wanted +to ask you before, but I didn't dare. +Now I think you owe me something—your +life. And I'd like to take care +of it from now on."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will," Mary said. "And +I have reasons, too. If I marry you, you +can't possibly do that silly thing you +plan."</p> + +<p>"What thing?"</p> + +<p>"Naming the treatment Barton's. +It'll have to be Kramer's." ■</p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Analog Science Fact and Science Fiction</i> February 1962. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pandemic, by Jesse Franklin Bone + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANDEMIC *** + +***** This file should be named 26206-h.htm or 26206-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/0/26206/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Dave Lovelace, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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