Extinction Level Event (23 page)

"I know. But it's happening, and we have to deal with
it." "Of course. I'm merely saying I'm surprised that the military
would consider an environmental problem as
a matter of national
security
? What a coincidence.", clarifies Konovalov. "That it
is", agrees Krishnan, "a very highly unusual one. And one that
seems to be having ever more profound effects on us".

"So. Back to business", continues Konovalov. "You
mentioned that you wanted to see what I can do to save the worm
population?" "Yes. One of my proposals that I outlined for Onassis
is to use species that are resistant to the virus, and put their
resistance-genes into the current worms. There are thousands of
species of earthworm, surely some of them are immune." Konovalov
ponders out loud, "True. Well, actually, even if none of the actual
species
are immune we're bound to find a mutation that
encodes for immunity in some individuals. Have you collected plenty
of samples?" "Most of the samples that we took are dead." "Are you
sure? Make sure USDA checks them all again- if so much as one
annelid is still moving in a pile of a hundred thousand we need
it." "Fine. But what about-" "Also", interrupts Konovalov, "It has
to be a worm from the areas already affected. No East Coast,
Canada, Brazil, whatever. That will be just dealing uselessly in
probabilities. Find me a worm that is still living in California,
and I can find you a solution to this upcoming mess. An immune
worm, to be precise."

"Very well, I can definitely arrange that", responds
Krishnan. "In the meantime, why don't you see what our geneticists
have been working on. An entire readout of the annelid genome-
you're going to love it." "I should look at that." "Lab 204" "Got
it. If I discover anything extraordinary come down immediately.",
quips Konovalov. "Very well."

Konovalov marches out of the makeshift office and
presumably heads directly towards laboratory room 204.
Hehe, he
will probably get immersed for hours
, thinks Krishnan to
himself. Getting up from his seat Krishnan decides he needs to get
back to research in the labs, where the rest of the scientists are
busy. As it is, the moment he reaches the doorframe on his way out,
the phone rings. Swerving back, Krishnan grabs the device and
presses it to his ear. The gravely sound of the voice immediately
points out that it is LaJoy. "-Hey are you listening?", he
continues as Krishnan listens silently. "We have confirmed cases in
China. Shanghai, some other cities and the areas in between. You
there-" "Yes. In China? How?", inquires Krishnan. "We're assuming
the worms were by boat before all traffic was stopped out of San
Francisco and LA", replies LaJoy, "Now its really out of hand. The
Chinese are not going to want us butting in there telling them how
to handle it."

"True", states Krishnan, " but even we don't have how
to handle it, exactly, as of the moment." "This is simply a bigger
mess than anyone may have expected. How is work going towards a
cure?" "Nothing so far." "Keep me posted". LaJoy hangs up. In
China? Krishnan simply stands there pondering the enormity of that
statement. The epizootic just went from subcontinental to global in
scope. And Krishnan had no way of fixing it.

Zhejiang, China

In China at that very moment, Cheung Lak had the same
knotty feeling in the pit of his gut as many others across the
Pacific. However, his was from another cause. After sleeping
through the night, he had gone back to work cleaning the worms. He
even helped two of his neighbors clean their gardens. The worms
were a filth to touch and a problem to dispose of. In the end,
Cheung and his neighbors decided to bury them in the ground, where
they had come from. What puzzled Cheung at the time was that all
the dead worms had been found on the surface. What about the rest
underground? Were they dead too? was something he wondered while
working.

That worry was quickly replaced by something far more
troubling when he got home. He started feeling even more tired than
he was yesterday. His wife simply told him he was overworking
himself cleaning up the critters. Then the fever started.

Cheung went to bed and hoped that the fever would be
over soon. He needed to be in good health to tend to his farm, for
if he couldn't, who would? But it persisted until the next day.
Then he started having the urge to vomit, which eventually he did.
A stomachache, a fever, were all symptoms that Cheung could not
afford to have. It meant that he would need a doctor. His wife
called a doctor over to check on him. The doctor diagnosed it as a
fever and gave him several aspirins and other pills, which were
rather expensive- but unfortunately necessary.

Now, Cheung feels as if the world really is coming to
an end. No more energy to move out of bed, no more energy for
anything. Cannot eat, barely can drink. The pills were the last
solution, and it seems they have failed. Even his wife seems to be
strangely ill lately, and hasn't been attending to him much lately.
So Cheung lies alone in his small countryside home, burning from
the inside out. Burning. . . .

Dhaka, Bangladesh

Disembarking at Dhaka's Shah Jahal International
Airport, the first thing that becomes immediately obvious to the
newcomer is the intense humidity. In the beginning of October, when
the summer monsoon season is subsiding and a mild winter is moving
in, the country's tropical humidity never ceases. Even in the
terminal, the air is saturated with a thick moisture that clings to
a traveler's clothes like an unwanted coat of dew, soaking into
shirts, blouses, and suits alike. Most Bangladeshis are used to the
tropical climate of the rainy and generally wet nation, but
visitors are often distraught during their first visit by the often
tempestuous weather.

Today is a typical day at the start of the fall
season in Bangladesh, as Manjak notes outside the airport it is
raining mildy. With the monsoon season coming to an end, the
intensity of the daily rainfall also tends to decrease, and more
sun generally appears in the sky. Being a nation straddled by the
Tropic of Cancer, Bangladesh is in a position to receive intense
sunlight during the Summer season, much of which is blocked by
heavy cloud cover. The average October temperatures in the region
never fall below 25 Celsius or go above 30, leaving the residents
with a mildly hot fall that is still difficult to bear due to the
constant humidity.

Manjak puts on a pair of aviator sunglasses as he
leaves the terminal. The cloud cover is starting to drift away as
the rain slowly dies away. He hails a taxi and tells the driver to
take him to the FAO building in downtown Dhaka.

Along the way the roadside scenery quickly changes
from airport to a developing urban metropolis very quickly. Dhaka,
located in the geographic center of Bangladesh, is the most
developed part of the country, which is plagued by numerous
environmental, population, and infrastructural problems. Traffic is
much different here than in Rome- most traffic is not comprised of
regular cars but rather of rickshaws, in both manual-driven and
powered variants. Scooters are also increasingly common components
in Dhaka's traffic, along with a number of private automobiles. A
large number of public buses help add to the traffic, causing
considerable congestion along roads that were obviously not
designed for the traffic capacity they are pressured to serve.

The FAO national office in Bangladesh is in the
downtown of the city, in the Dhanmondi Residential Area. Due to the
Banladeshi's Muslim traditions, working hours are Sundays through
Thursdays, with Fridays and Saturdays off. After getting into a
small traffic jam that takes nearly half an hour to get out of,
Manjak finally arrives at the house. After paying the driver a
generous tip and collecting his briefcase and rolling suitcase,
Manjak enters the office and identifies himself to the man at the
desk. After recognizing him, the man speaks into a phone, calling
the national director. Zafir Mohammed appears a few moments later
front one of the back rooms, stepping forward to greet Manjak.

"How are you, sir? Welcome to Bangladesh!", he smiles
cordially, shaking Manjak's hand. As English is the official
language of the FAO in nearly all its constituencies and offices
around the world, communication is made simple between Manjak and
all his co-workers in Bangladesh. "Its great to have your here, Dr.
Manjak. We are grateful that Rome can give us some attention".
"It's good to be here, Zafir. I'm really interested in working more
with you, as you know headquarters should be devoting more
attention to Bangladesh than it is.", replies Manjak tightly. They
move off to the side, Manjak hushing down his tone. "Director
Maurice hasn't been giving attention to any operations in Southeast
Asia-This is my perspective and I told you this. It'll take a
little more time before anything substantial can be done." "I
understood that, Trip", replies Mohammed, "Its simply that- time is
a resource not afforded by everyone". He pauses, giving Manjak a
chance to reply. "And trust me, I understand that, "answers Manjak
tersely, "but for now, you've got me here. Now, what is the
situation here?" "The situation has been deteriorating, to say the
least", states Mohammed, "the government is too mired in internal
squabbles to actually help. We're left to implementing many of our
reforms through corporations, and private donors. Not only is the
corruption in the government hampering our efforts, but the sheer
size of the effort is also a major obstacle. We have 160 million
people in 147,000 square kilometers, an area approximately the size
of your New York State. I've been to the States; I know. There is a
growing gap between the less developed western sections of the
country, and the improving and slowly advancing eastern areas. In
addition, a small but non-negligible threat remains from militant
groups that will tend to target foreign offices and NGOs."

"Yes, I read your report. You also mentioned
something more urgent."

"China has had some outbreak of a
previously-unidentified virus affecting its earthworms. They don't
know how to deal with it, and its spreading faster than their
government though possible. I suspect that it could be as bad as
SARS was, if not worse." Zafir looks slightly worried. "If they
can't prevent a virus like that from spreading, who can?"

Manjak is equally shocked at the news. "The worm
virus is in China?!! I don't believe it." "Why?", asks Zafir,
puzzled at Manjak's suddenly pale face.

"The exact same thing is happening in the Americas,
although the entire story isn't out yet- that won't last long.",
explains Manjak quickly. "Really? I wasn't paying attention at the
international news for some time now. An epidemic that is killing
earthworms?" "Epizootic", corrects Manjak, "Exactly that. But, I
have all the information the USDA and Mexican government have put
together over the past two weeks. We should use it to get prepared,
and get the country ready."

"Ready?", asks Zafir.

"How did you get that information? Yeah, ready for
its invasion here. And if its spreading at the rate reported to be
spreading, it will be here faster than you can imagine. My estimate
is about two weeks for it to spread from central China through
Tibet and Myanmar over here," Manjak speculates aloud, before
continuing, "We have to start working on a comprehensive plan to
prevent general population and wildlife exposure to the virus. If
we can do this within two, three days and then implement it within
the next week, we should be able to prevent major environmental
damage from occurring. But first, I need to alert all FAO national
offices of this new development."

"I see. Let me get you the phone. And some maps,
diagrams, what do we need?" "Hmm, we need to think this through
first. Let's sit." The two men, finally having tired of talking
while standing, walk into Zafir's small, cramped office and huddle
in front of his computer. Manjak quickly logs onto his official
email and rapid-types a letter to the office in Rome, which will
then inform the rest of the FAO's world offices of the situation.
After sending the message, along with attachments from the Chinese
government's website and news sources despite their reliability,
Manjak focuses on the local Bangladeshi prevention. "Let’s see. We
would ideally want to rely on natural boundaries to prevent
contamination." Manjak studies a detailed map of the region on the
screen. "The Himalayas, the Ganges and Brahmaputra rivers- these
are all great barriers. Problem is the river is behind Dhaka and
half the country."

"We could create artificial barriers. Ditches, dikes,
walls, anything necessary. Perhaps relocate the people and
livestock that are too close to the borders to behind the
barriers." "Yeah. What about scorched-earth? A line of earth with
nothing living in it should prevent anything from reaching us. Most
viruses don't survive in dead soil." "No one will agree to such a
radical measure.", answers Zafir, "Besides, I've heard some avian
viruses can." "This isn't an avian virus. A no-life zone will
prevent it from spreading. Nothing survives in the burnt zone. But
yeah, perhaps we shouldn't resort to that yet. What about a large
scale disinfectant treatment?" "Aerosol spraying of disinfectant
chemicals? That's equally radical", disagrees Mohammed, "Relocating
people is harsh enough, but in some cases it is acceptable;
however, as soon as any environmental or property destruction is
also wrought; well then the solution becomes the new problem."

"Zafir. . . look. I've read the reports from Mexico,
I've seen the pictures from California and my background involved
predicting scenarios like this one. A virus will not stop, so long
as hosts are continually around; plus this one is special. This is
like AIDS for the worms, coupled with the virulence and ease of
transmission of Ebola. Now what we need is a large physical,
geographical barrier between any infected areas to the east and us.
A barrier with
nothing living
in it, two kilometers wide.
Its spreading itself from worm to worm via something, fluid
exchange, sexual contact, slime, whatever. If we deny the space to
worms, and all the other critters that revolve around the worm, I'm
willing to bet we can stop this right here, right now."