“Beneath my ERR, I’m afraid,” Stephen whispered.
“Afraid of what?”
“There’s something inside me. It’s about to explode.”
“What’s inside you? You look kind of pale.”
“It’s too late. It’s taking over ….”
Slumping forward, he exposed the whites of his eyes. The shuttle halted and a whistle sounded.
“Honoured passengers,” the auto-steward spoke, “InterCity Services regrets to inform you that Shuttle 947, from Toronto to Rome, is experiencing five medical crises on board. A Medevac will dock with us in seven seconds and convey affected passengers to a nearby Health Facility. Shuttle 947 will then return to the main depot. All g-force pods have been hermetically sealed and will disengage on the completion of our disinfectant protocols. We apologize …”
Before the steward could finish its announcement, each Teledata screen displayed a message in bold letters: “Stay tuned for a broadcast from our Global President.” A countdown appeared. One minute and ten seconds, nine, eight, seven …
The shuttle trembled slightly. A ceiling panel above Stephen opened and a Flexbot arm shot into the cabin. Before Felix had a chance to address him, his pod was hoisted into an Evac-tube. Felix glimpsed his face and almost flinched in horror: normal just moments before, it was covered now with blood-red blisters. And his fingertips looked like they’d been steeped in red ink.
… Thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty …
And Stephen wasn’t the only one affected. Two seats behind him a man had toppled over, and a well-dressed lady further down was crumpled up, with a Portadoc lying on its side by her feet. Flexbots were busy removing them as well.
… Twelve, eleven, ten …
Felix thought his heart would explode. What was happening? Why had all these people fainted? What did their blisters and red fingertips mean? Were they dying? Was it his turn next …?
… Three, two, one …
As soon as the countdown expired, a face filled his screen — as well as every other screen on board the shuttle. Felix recognized Sajit Gupta at once, three-time president of the World Federation. A handsome man with a friendly manner, President Gupta was subdued at that moment.
“My fellow citizens,” he spoke in a sober tone, “I’m afraid I have worrying news to deliver. Five days ago a virus came to our attention, a strain our immunologists had never seen. The Federation wasn’t concerned, but quarantined its victims and set to work on finding a vaccine. Now, four days later, the virus has infected millions. A mere three people have died so far, but the rest are ill and require hospitalization. As far as any vaccine is concerned, I regret to say it has eluded us still …”
Felix gasped. This was even worse than he’d imagined.
“In an effort to contain this virus, my government has published a decree that prohibits citizens from traveling at large. We insist that you remain inside your homes, monitor your health at six-hour intervals, and obey the authorities should you suffer infection. All transportation has been cancelled forthwith, and this ban includes all off-world traffic. Failure to comply with these rules will result in arrest and immediate detention.”
There was a bump as the shuttle returned to its moorings. Felix’s g-pod opened, but he didn’t move. He lacked the strength to budge from that spot.
“My dear citizens, over the last hundred years we have conquered hunger, war, and most diseases. Science has served us well in the past, and I feel confident it will rescue us again. In the meantime, I beg you to remain optimistic. We will eliminate this plague but we must trust in our reason. As always I wish you the best blessings I can think of, peace, rationality and constructive thoughts.”
The president waved and the screen went blank. Immediately, an alarm bell rang and the steward ordered passengers to leave by the closest exit. A line of people shuffled down the aisle, quietly, calmly, betraying no fear. As Felix watched them and wrestled with his panic, he envied them their ERR. It’s too bad his father was opposed … His father! Felix leaped to his feet. Was his dad still at home or had he left for work? He’d looked frail and tired the day before and Felix prayed this didn’t mean … Running down the aisle, he exited the shuttle.
The scene that confronted him in the station was ghastly. A good dozen people had collapsed to the tiles and a line of Service Units was hauling them off. A girl kept repeating she wanted to stay, but the machines had their orders and were deaf to her pleas. An older man was crawling on all fours, in an effort to escape the units’ cold touch. Auto-ushers were everywhere and escorting commuters to their destinations.
The lineups at the Portals were maddeningly long. People were standing a distance from each other and covering their mouths with anything at hand — handkerchiefs, socks, baseball caps. Without warning, a woman in front of Felix fainted and the crowd instantly stepped away. They were a frightening sight with their impassive eyes and strips of fabric concealing their faces. A second person dropped, then another and another. Felix was half breathless with terror when at last he reached the head of the line.
“Destination please,” a voice asked politely, as if this day were just like any other.
“Area 2, Sector 4, Building 9,” Felix panted, shuddering as a lady sprouted blisters before his eyes.
“Processing,” the voice announced. Then, an eternity later, “Please advance.”
He almost laughed, the change was so abrupt. One moment he was being hemmed in by death; the next he was standing in front of his building and a warm sun was caressing him. He almost convinced himself he’d escaped the disaster, when he spied a figure immediately before him: half the man’s body was sprawled on the pathway, while half was lying on the manicured lawn. The victim was dressed in a black Zacron suit and was clutching a book that was bound in blue leather, his fingertips a telltale scarlet. The face was turned away, but Felix knew who it was.
“Dad!” he screamed, hastening forward.
“Don’t approach him!” a voice called from above. “You’ll get yourself infected. Besides, a Medevac will be here soon.”
Ignoring this advice, Felix ran to his father. He was very still, didn’t seem to be breathing and his face was disfigured with disquieting blisters. Just as Felix was assuming the worst, Mr. Taylor opened his eyes and managed a faint smile.
“Fili mi. Thank goodness you’re here.”
“Don’t speak. Save your strength.”
“Felix. Listen closely. We’ve seen this plague before. Aceticus describes it.”
“Shh,” Felix soothed him, thinking he was confused. “A Medevac is on the way.”
Sure enough there was a buzzing overhead and, above the treetops, a Medevac swooped near. As it hovered closer, Felix glanced into its cockpit: the sight of the auto-drive was deeply unnerving.
“Felix?”
“Yes, Dad?”
“It’s all in there,” his father wheezed, motioning to the book by his side. “Read it carefully. It might prove useful.”
“The Medevac’s above us,” Felix said.
“We survived the plague once, and we can survive it again if —”
“This is Medevac OS3201,” an automated voice announced, cutting Mr. Taylor off. As the vehicle hovered fifty feet above the ground, a panel opened and released a one-man stretcher that descended on a trio of miniature jets. Felix didn’t like the look of this contraption: with its transparent cover and retractable arms, whose ends were equipped with metal grapplers, it resembled