by Nomad
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.
Later he warns:
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."
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.
The reality was, as we have seen, far more complex. Despite having adequate warnings, governments around the world fumbled and dithered and tried to hide the severity of the pandemic. Politicians and businessmen were torn between public safety and economics.
Unable to seriously address the emergency, the president of the United States would add to the confusion by calling the pandemic "a hoax" hyped by sensationalist media and his political enemies. Later he would encourage radicalized citizens to "liberate" states with Democratic governors trying to implement safety guidelines. Against the express advice of medical professionals, Trump would hold campaign rallies- so-called "super-spreader events."
No science fiction writer could have imagined such a betrayal of the public trust by a president. And yet, that is what we witnessed this year.
There was plenty of blame to go around. By refusing to follow basic medical precautions, many Americans, a surprisingly large percentage, preferred to ignore their social responsibilities. Disregarding the advice of medical experts was a risk they were willing to take in order to have a beer with friends or attend a party. it was an act of patriotism, they said.
Meanwhile, their infected family members, co-workers, friends and neighbors would die and would keep dying in ever-increasing numbers. (As I write this, 271K Americans have died from the pandemic.)
For the corporate types, it was a different kind of disaster. From oil production to travel, from entertainment to retail, industries fell one after another like dominoes. And in a very short time.
The fear, that the scenes of wild panic and looting were largely unfounded. Social chaos was, instead, expressed in a mad rush to buy toilet paper. That was an effect the sci-fi story got right.
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.
Overall, panic wasn't the problem. Fear was replaced by a vague sense of dread and impatience. After the initial shock and concern, the public seemed to fall into indolence and apathy. For many, lockdowns proved to be unbearable.
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.
In the Covid-19 reality, our "miracle" came from hard science. It came from conscientious lab technicians and diligent drug developers. It came from courageous doctors and nurses and it came teams of volunteer participants in clinical trials.
