“You have 90 seconds before cleansing must commence, doctor.” The metallic drone of O.S.C.A.A.R’s voice came into Dr. Helena Myers earpiece breaking her concentration only momentarily.

        “I am aware. Suspend all further notifications” She barked into the headset mic placed against her voice box. Wiping absentmindedly at what would be her hairline if not for the large plastic screen on her biohazard headpiece.

She hated this damn thing but the protective gear used in her lab was, unfortunately, not up to her. If you don’t know how a disease is passed and insist on working with a live version of it; so that you can try and find a cure the government will insist that you wear unnecessary levels of protective gear. What a wonderful use of bureaucrats’ time. Telling doctors how they should be safe in a field they have no experience in.

But that was a fight for another time. She was close, she could feel it. If only she could solve this last piece of the puzzle about gestation and how the virus seems to ‘choose’ who to latch onto. It seemed, to her at least, that the virus in its current form was almost selective with who will be affected due to the virus’s own survival rates. It did not seem to affect those with preexisting conditions or existing illnesses like cancer, crohn’s disease, or Multiple Sclerosis.

Choosing instead to focus almost entirely on those in perfect health. The most ideal hosts. The ones who could carry this for days without knowing they were infected or infecting others.

Then at the end of the gestation (around 8 hours) when the disease takes hold of the patient’s brainstem and all humanity within the host is rendered seemingly null and void. It’s too late and you have 10 infected walking in place where only one would have been if there had been any warning signs at all. The virus is smart. Infinitely so, but also shows no markers of being man made. Of being a weapon.

This seems, at least to those with an understanding of even the most basic concepts of immunology and biology to be a course correction from the earth. If an apex predator is too good at manipulating the world to its whim’s and wants that it begins to willfully break the symbiotic relationship that all living creatures are willing participants of in order to manipulate it to only benefit themselves then the other half of that relationship. In this case the earth itself will fight back and fight back hard.

The red emergency lights above the exit to her lab began flashing in her peripheral vision. “Damnit,” She thought to herself. “Just a few more seconds.” Now a long low droning accompanied the flashing, alerting her that she was at the end of her allotted 2 hours of coordinated exposure.

Frustrated, she threw down her tools holding her hands in front of her face and bent at the elbow so as not to touch anything and moved towards the exit. Her lab assistant, Douglas, stood on the other side of the protective barrier staring daggers through her as she stripped out of the protective gear putting her arms and legs into a jumping jack position and turning slowly as the decontamination chamber sprayed her with an assortment of cleaners and chemicals, effectively vacuum sealing her against any and all contagens that may try to invade.

“What in the fuck do you think you were doing!” Douglas screamed as she pushed her way into the control room attached to the lab and moved towards the control panel. “You could have been killed!” He continued, quieter now. “You are so much more valuable alive than you are as a martyr. You have to know that.”

She shrunk a little inside at that. She knew she had hurt him, but she was so close to a solution; that the reward outweighed the risk tenfold. She couldn’t tell him, make him understand. At least not in a way that would make him comfortable with the risk she was taking so instead she said. “You’re right. I am sorry. Truly. I just - lost track of time.”

He scoffed a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Right, I’ll sew a watch face into the next suit. So we can avoid this in the future then.” She nodded turning back to the control panel and slamming down on the large red button in the center. Watching as her lab and all of her advancements went up in a blazing inferno.

….

She was only 90 minutes into her mandated eight hours of quarantine following her stunt in the lab but she was incredibly bored. She was lucky of course and she knew it. She worked in only one of 3 international immunology labs given the task of tackling this disease and finding a cure. Because of that distinction she had access to just about any piece of pop culture entertainment that she could want to pass the hours until her next shift, or her death. Whichever came first.

She had been onsite at the facility for what felt like a lifetime but in the grand scheme of things was truly no more than a blip on the radar, she had been on site working towards a solution and failing for a little over a year or .0005 percent of all human history. No one would remember her or her colleague’s failures. She was sure of that. While in the present waiting over a period of years before being able to exit your home without fear felt like a lifetime. It really wasn’t. It was just another blip. A massively important blip so far as the preservation  of the human race was concerned for sure. But a blip nonetheless.

None of it mattered. Not really. Not anymore. Some of them were still hanging on to things, people, they hoped were hanging on. Who were still out there hoping beyond all hope that their work here would save their lives and end this nightmare. But she knew they were just  fooling themselves. Anyone who was alive had made it to one of the designated safe zones.

If you weren’t in a zone. You weren’t alive. Not anymore.

There were different zones of different sizes all across the globe. North America had the most. With 4 in the United States alone. San Francisco,California; Houston, Texas; Washington D.C., and Missoula, Montana. There are three in South America and two more in Canada.

That’s it. Just those places exist in any way that may feel familiar. Even though they have much more in common with a 3rd world refugee camp then a city in western civilization.

Armed guards regularly perform "wellness checks" and enforce government mandated quarantines and rationing as well as approving all coming and going, not that there’s much of either, that may occur in and around the zone.

 That’s only if you were lucky enough to live close to a designated zone at the time of lockdown of course. There were millions left outside when the walls went up and the gates were closed. Who were doomed to a death sentence of their own making.

She wanted to shake them. All of them, all the ones who sulk through the halls of the facility with hope and despair fighting for control of their emotions, and scream. "Your friends are most likely dead, your family too. Accept it. Process it and get back to work." She wanted to, but she wouldn’t, it wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t, couldn’t bring any of them back. The ones they lost. Or the ones she did.

The one  she did.