by Jinkang Wang
Mei Yin smiled back. “I was lying. I needed to keep him out; it wouldn’t do him any good to see what’s in here.”
“All right, Ms. Mei, you . . .” He’d been about to say, You lie like a pro, but thought that might be impolite, and in the end opted for “You’re quite a good actress.”
He studied the room carefully. Not a bad setup, almost as good as the one at the Zhengdian Research Laboratory at the Wuhan Institute of Virology, though of course much smaller. It was clean and tidy, flawlessly maintained. There were all the facilities you’d need. Apart from the negative-pressure workstations he’d noticed before, there were also electron microscopes, multifunction high-performance liquid chromatographs, gas chromatographs, super centrifuges, DNA/RNA synthesizers, PCR amplifiers, and so forth. In an alcove were three small biological reactors, currently in use, humming quietly, indicator lights on.
Xue Yu asked, “What are you doing here?”
“This is my personal research project. I’m investigating the white pox virus, a mutation of monkeypox. It’s very similar to smallpox, impossible to differentiate under lab conditions, yet harmless to humans. I think you must have come across data on this.”
“Yes, I read a report. It came from the kidneys of African wild monkeys in 1972, and is scientifically known as the Herpes B virus. Is that right?”
“That’s the one. Everyone knows that evolution is a random process, and generally speaking, organisms will never repeat mutations that have already taken place—the odds are simply too high. But viruses are an exception. Their structure is so simple, it’s possible to list all the potential permutations. Which is to say, this white pox could perhaps naturally mutate once more into the smallpox virus, as they’re so similar. All of that is conjecture, and as for the practice . . . How can I put it—I suspect the conclusion that ‘white pox can’t affect humans’ might not be accurate, and I’m looking into this question. Of course, this is quite difficult, and I can’t use human subjects—except myself.”
Xue Yu couldn’t help looking around this open-plan lab, and saying anxiously, “But if your guess is correct . . . that’s terribly dangerous.”
“There is some danger. But given that the risk already exists in the natural world, it’s essential that this research gets done, so we have a warning.”
Xue Yu had nothing to say to that. Ms. Mei was farsighted, but this didn’t make him less worried. The main problem was the notoriety of smallpox. Anything connected with that disease came with an aura of terror. On the other side of the earth, tens of thousands were currently being tormented by this demon. No wonder she hadn’t allowed County Chief Jin to enter the lab.
Mei Yin turned to look at him. “I hope you’ll take over this project. How about it? The salary and benefits will definitely satisfy you. It’s just that this research is a little far out, and I can’t guarantee when it’ll produce results. If you take over, you’d have to be able to endure loneliness, like General Manager Sun. Before you succeed, you might have to sit here silently for a decade. Think about it, and give me your answer within a month.”
Xue Yu pondered the offer, and was inclined to say no. The project had a certain element of risk, which didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t do it, but it was something that ought to be openly debated in the world of science, with approval from the relevant authorities, not carried out in a private lab. For the sake of politeness, he didn’t turn her down right away, but said, “All right, I’ll think about it.”
General Manager Sun and his wife would soon leave on their honeymoon. Before that, he made sure to delegate all his duties at the facility. In the evening, the couple returned to the Nanyang orphanage, ready to say good-bye to the children before setting out on their journey. Xue Yu went along with them; the next day, he’d take the train from Nanyang to Wuhan. After dinner, he played with the kids in the dining hall, while the TV showed a news report about the smallpox epidemic. Those who’d gotten treatment early, such as little Emily, had been fortunate enough to escape full-blown infection. Her grandmother Rosa was even luckier, and hadn’t been infected at all during her time on the farm; she was back home now. Those who’d been exposed earlier, or treated later, couldn’t be helped by the vaccine, and at this point, forty-three of them had developed hemorrhagic smallpox and died of lung infection, septicemia, or total organ failure. More than a hundred more weren’t out of danger yet, including Elizabeth Ginsburg and her cameraman, Francis. The two terrorists and the gullible Big Chief Sealth were close to death, and probably couldn’t be saved. Still more people had less severe cases, but were in a great deal of pain, with high fever, chills, fainting fits, and blisters all over their heads and limbs. The news reports blurred the more distressing images, but the atmosphere of despair in the hospital wards was still palpable. Xiaoxue said, sadly, “Those sick people are so pitiful. Those wicked men ought to be cut to pieces!”
Mother Chen forgot her Christian obligation to be forgiving, and added viciously, “Send them down to the eighteenth level of hell, where they’ll be fried alive, or burned at the stake!”
Mei Xiaokai asked, “Mommy Mei, isn’t the smallpox virus supposed to be extinct? Where did they get it?”
“In the whole world, there are still two research labs with samples of the smallpox virus, the Vector Institute in Russia and the CDC in America. But the terrorists might not have gotten their supplies from either of those places. It’s possible that they found the virus in the wild, by chance. Although the WHO has declared it extinct, we can’t guarantee it’s been completely wiped out in the natural world, nor that some rogue country secretly held on to some.”
After the news report, the kids began clamoring for a cartoon. “Quick, Mother Chen, change the channel!” The kids already in middle school usually had to study in the evenings, and the elementary school students also had homework to do, and weren’t allowed to watch TV except for cartoons on Saturday, their favorite treat. Not even a disaster on the other side of the world could distract them. Mother Chen turned to the kids’ channel and sat with them as the other adults headed outside to chat beneath the garden trellis. Xiaoxue slipped out too. Seeing her, Mei Yin asked, “Don’t you want to watch a cartoon?”
Xiaoxue scoffed, “No way, those are for little kids.”
“Ha, our Xiaoxue’s a big girl now,” said Mother Liu. “I know you just want to spend a bit more time with your Mommy Mei.”
It was early fall, and there was already a chill in the air. Xiaoxue sat in Mei Yin’s lap, and Mei Yin wrapped both arms round her shoulders. Xiaoxue leaned back, basking in her mother’s warmth, inhaling that “Mommy scent,” listening to the grown-ups chitchat, and felt peace in her heart. They were talking about something quite profound, and she didn’t completely understand, but she was happy as long as she could be here, close to her Mommy Mei.
“Ms. Mei,” Xue Yu said, “yesterday my uncle was interviewed on Channel Ten, did you see that? He said he’s an optimist, and believes that medical science will advance to the point it will get rid of illness altogether, and in the future, human beings will live in an Elysium of perfect health. A ridiculously infantile mind-set. Channel Ten actually broadcast it without a counterpoint, so they’re infantile too.”
“Human civilization is still young,” Mei Yin replied. “We ought to allow it a little unrealistic fantasy.”
“Ms. Mei, I may be a virologist, but I don’t have the least idea where viruses came from. Evolution moves from the simple to the complex, and viruses are the simplest organisms. You could even say they’re the transition point between life and non-life, but they definitely came into existence later than single-cell organisms, because they require living cells to exist. How can we explain this contradiction?”
“Science doesn’t have a single answer about the origin of viruses. Perhaps they degenerated from single-cell organisms—after all, degeneration is a form of evolution too. Another possibility is that viruses escaped from the DNA of multi-cell organisms, a little
segment of DNA that finally managed to become an independent form of life. That’s possible with DNA viruses, anyway. It’s even harder to explain RNA ones.”
Xue Yu joked, “God really is unfathomable. He created exquisite, wonderful humanity, cheetahs, tuna, and swifts, so why also make viruses and bacteria to harm them all? What a cruel joke. Twisted, even.”
Mei Yin looked at Mother Liu, concerned that Xue Yu’s words might have hurt her feelings. Jingshuan had thought of this too, and nudged Xue Yu with his arm. Noticing this, Mother Liu laughed. “Director Mei, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve thought about all this long ago. I’d never dare say this in front of Mother Chen. We’re both believers, but after learning a bit about viruses from you, I’m no longer certain if there is a God in heaven. If there really is a God, and he loves his lambs, why would he make viruses along with the rest of creation? He created viruses, then he kept us in the dark, and didn’t mention them in the scriptures, so we had to suffer so much, groping for clues, only discovering them after so many millions of deaths. How could a heavenly father be so cruel? It doesn’t make sense.”
Xiaoxue listened with interest, giggling. Mei Yin laughed too, and said levelly, “Mother Liu, you can understand it in this way: there is indeed a God, but he’s not just the God of humans, but also of all living things. He doesn’t love human beings or antelopes more, nor is he fonder of viruses or houseflies. He just laid down several rules, and then let the various forms of life fight it out among themselves, and whoever survives is the winner.”
“That may be. But—that means it doesn’t matter whether or not we believe in God, because he isn’t going to give us special treatment.”
Xue Yu howled with laughter. He’d never imagined that Mother Liu, after being steeped in the gospel for twenty years, could still be so open-minded and so clearheaded. Mei Yin laughed too, then added, “Actually, I’m an optimist too, but in a completely different way to Xue Yu’s uncle.”
“Different how?”
“The growth of human civilization has always gone hand in hand with ‘harmony,’ increasing layer by layer, and I believe this harmony will expand from humanity to the animals. Some animals used to be our enemies, such as tigers or wolves, and now they have our protection. That’s not all: I think this circle will sooner or later expand to include pathogens too. They’re part of the natural world, and as far as God is concerned, have civil rights too, and the right to exist.”
Xiaoxue looked up from her lap, and asked doubtfully, “Including the smallpox virus? That wicked thing?”
“Viruses don’t set out to be our enemies. They’re only concerned about their own existence. If they could live in harmony with their hosts, that would be even more advantageous for them. Think about it: once their hosts die, they have nowhere to live. In the long term, the antagonistic relationship of pathogens and hosts will become more temperate. This has been the case with the common cold, with syphilis, and even with smallpox. For instance, the settlers to the New World were far more resistant to smallpox and colds than the natives. I believe that rabies, Ebola, and AIDS will go the same way too, though naturally that will take longer. If scientists can take advantage of certain shortcuts, they might make the process quicker.” She turned to Xue Yu. “Here’s where I part ways with your uncle. I think humankind can’t fight nature. Science can only speed things along, not change their direction. His idea of eliminating pathogens altogether goes against nature, and it will never happen.”
Xue Yu asked, “What do you mean, take advantage of certain shortcuts?”
Mei Yin exchanged glances with her husband, and smiled. “Human civilization hasn’t gotten to that point yet, and if you try to put it into practice, you’d run into all kinds of roadblocks. So at the moment, it’s just talk.”
Jingshuan said, “Let’s change the subject. Look, Xiaoxue thinks this topic’s boring, she’s almost asleep. Aren’t you, Xiaoxue?”
Xiaoxue did look a little groggy, but her reflexes were quick, and she jerked upright from Mommy Mei’s lap. “Who says I’m asleep? I heard everything you said.”
Mei Yin said it was getting late, and Xiaoxue had school the next day—she and Jingshuan also had to leave early. Xiaoxue held her mother’s hand as they went back into the dorm building, and said good-night.
She’d heard about half the grown-ups’ conversation as she’d drowsed. The strange thing was, thirteen years later (by which point she’d be the mother of a six-year-old child), when she recalled this evening, she found herself able to remember everything that had been said. Unfortunately, it was only then that she understood the deeper meaning of their words, and the cruelty contained within them.
After breakfast the next day, the newlyweds set off in the Lifan. Xiaoxue saw them to the door, reluctant to let them go. Mei Yin folded the girl into her arms. “Your Uncle Sun is normally far too busy, but now for once he’ll be able to take a break. We’re going to all kinds of places, and should return in two or three weeks. We’ll spend another day in the orphanage after we’re back. How about that? Xiaoxue, that’s enough good-byes, you should get to school now.”
“No, I want to see you off before I go. There’s enough time, I won’t be late.”
Jingshuan called for her to get in the car, then waved at Xiaoxue, Mother Liu, Mother Chen, and the group of kids who’d come to see them off. The car got as far as the alleyway when a black Audi blocked its way. Deputy Mayor Jin stepped from the driver’s seat, his face so clouded it looked ready to rain.
“Are the two of you off on your honeymoon? You kept that secret very well.”
Jingshuan and Mei Yin quickly got out and began awkwardly explaining that they’d wanted to keep the wedding low-key, so they hadn’t told anyone, and especially didn’t want anyone official to know. Jin said brusquely, “I’m not an official, I’m your friend. Yet I had to hear the news of your wedding from someone else. Do you think I’m not good enough for you?”
The couple couldn’t think of a single word to say, and stared at him in mortification. There was no way they could explain their difficult position to Jin, but they’d had very good reasons to keep the marriage from him. Fortunately, Jin didn’t let the moment linger. His face softened, and he produced a thousand yuan. “I was in such a rush I couldn’t even get my hands on a red packet. Please take this cash as my gift.”
Mei Yin didn’t try to push it away, but quickly accepted, saying, “We’ll make it up to you when we get back.” Sun Jingshuan smiled, adding, “Yes, we’ll humbly apologize at a banquet for you.” Deputy Mayor Jin snorted and said he had official business to take care of and couldn’t hang around. He painstakingly reversed out of the alleyway, waved good-bye from the window, and sped off in a cloud of smoke. Mei Yin and Sun Jingshuan didn’t get back in the car right away, but looked back at the orphanage. They were going to spend a stretch of time away from this place—the honeymoon was just a cover story. Although the plan had been laid long ago, now that they were actually putting it into motion, they couldn’t help feeling a little heavyhearted. Mei Yin sighed softly. “Jingshuan, I really can’t bear to leave now.”
Her husband didn’t say anything, knowing she didn’t need his encouragement. After a while, she roused herself and said decisively, “Let’s go! As the ancients said, you can’t control an army with kindness!”
Mei Xiaoxue got sick ten days after Mommy Mei’s departure. At noon, she was helping the two mothers to serve lunch when Mother Liu said, “Xiaoxue, are you unwell? Your eyes are all wet, and sunken.”
Whenever Xiaoxue got ill, her eyes became dark and sunken, and the two mothers had once joked that she got more beautiful the less well she was. Xiaoxue forced a smile and admitted that she had a slight headache, nothing serious. As usual, she fed Little Niu, then quickly gobbled her own meal before helping the mothers tidy up and heading off to school. That night she became feverish, and tried to push through it herself by drinking several bowls of hot water rather than alarming the mothers. Th
e next morning, she really couldn’t hold up, and asked to go home sick from school. Seeing her little face flushed red, Mother Liu touched her forehead and shrieked, “Ah! You’re boiling! Quick, let’s get you to the clinic!”
The kids from the orphanage all went to the Jianqiang Clinic at the end of the alleyway when they were unwell. It was run by Dr. Ma, a retired physician who was in his seventies and skilled at both Chinese and Western medicine. He was very experienced but didn’t charge them much. He had always understood their constrained circumstances, and tried his best to rely on his experience instead of ordering up a bunch of expensive tests, like the bigger hospitals did. After taking Xiaoxue’s pulse and temperature, he pushed back her hair to look at the backs of her ears and her hairline, then said, “Not to worry, the child has chicken pox, a small problem. Her temperature’s on the high side, so I’ll prescribe some cimetidine and we’ll put her on a drip for a couple of days. Mother Liu, keep an eye on her. If her temperature spikes, come find me again, or take her to the hospital.”
“Is it infectious?”
“Yes. When children get infected with the shingles virus, it develops into chicken pox, which will sort itself out after a week. But this isn’t the full infection, and the virus will lie dormant in the body, and might activate again in adulthood, this time causing shingles, which we also call snake-egg pox or dragon-round-the-waist, a rather troublesome illness. After recovering from that, though, there’ll be full immunity.”
“Should we quarantine her?”
“Yes, especially with so many children on the premises.”
This was difficult because the children all lived in dorms, and there were a limited number of rooms. She left Xiaoxue at the clinic to be hydrated, and went back to arrange her separate accommodation. Jianqiang Clinic was a threadbare establishment without a bed, so patients had to sit upright while on a drip. No one was waiting, so Dr. Ma sat next to Xiaoxue and chatted with her. “Don’t worry, Xiaoxue, chicken pox isn’t a major illness, it’ll get better on its own and it won’t leave any scars, so our Xiaoxue will be just as beautiful as ever. Oh, I saw two cars come and go this morning. Was that Director Mei coming back?”
