Listening to NPR on the Way Home

Today the first U.S. citizen died from the H1N1 virus, or swine flu. The 33-year-old teacher lived in Mercedes, Texas, a border town in the Rio Grande valley. Authorities were quick to calm fears, explaining that the person has several other medical conditions which made her susceptible. Soon enough, the initial panic over the swine flu subsided and the world shrugged it off as another pandemic false alarm, much like the bird flu and SARS before it.

But a virus is a beautiful thing. It exists in a strange limbo between life and death. As nothing more than DNA enclosed in a simple protein coat, a virus is incapable of surviving independent of a host. A virus cannot reproduce, it cannot actively seek out prey, and it is so vulnerable to changes in the environment it is the rare virus that can maintain it's physical integrity if exposed to air.

But its simplicity is what makes it so dangerous. Once inside a host cell, it replicates itself extraordinarily quickly, overwhelming the cell until it literally bursts from its sudden lethal pregnancy of new viruses. This swarm attack is very effective. The larger the swarm and faster the replication, the more damage is done to the host organism. If the host organism cannot find the correct antibodies or medicine in time, the virus will have reached a "critical mass" of sorts, where it will be able to destroy enough of the host's cells so as to kill the host.

If that weren't enough, the virus' simplicity is a double-edged sword: because it has no cellular membrane or nucleus, and its DNA is often exposed, the virus can undergo dozens of mutations as its replicates millions of times in a few days' time. HIV is incurable largely because of this. It also explains why there is no cure for the common cold, although that is typically bacterial.

So as the summer of 2009 drags on, several more people die from the H1N1 virus. This goes largely unreported. The world views swine flu as no worse than the regular flu, and while its unfortunate that a few have died, well, people die from the flu all the time. In March of 2009, the swine flu became transmissible by human-to-human contact, instead of swine-to-human. In May 2009, a Canadian farmer re-transmitted the virus back to his herd of swine. Other reverse transmissions occurred: in June, a Mexican cattle rancher and a New Zealand shepard infected their respective stocks; in August, a U.S. farmer infected a poultry farm.

As the H1N1 virus was passed back and forth, it continously mutated. Being exposed to a variety of organisms, with different but similar enough immune systems, encouraged the evolution of several strains. When these virus strains once again made the leap to humans, the results were quite different than earlier. In the winter of 2009, as the typical flu season rolled around, governments around the world were reporting huge increases in flu outbreaks. Almost before the numbers could be processed, people began dying. There wasn't anything grotesque to these deaths, like the pus-filled boils of the plauge or the spontaenous hemorraghing of Ebola. Rather, people simply exhibited the typical flu symptoms - fever, chills, headaches, coughing, sneezing - but at the end of the week, instead of recovering, they simply died. The virus overcame their body much too quickly for medicine or their immune systems to respond.

Chaos ensued. People no longer trusted hospitals, governments, doctors, or each other. The slow onset of the flu meant individuals were contagious for days before they knew they were sick. Communities saw deaths occur in waves. The first infected group would unwittingly pass their viruses onto others. When that group died, the second group followed a predictable 5-7 days later. The reaper's scythe swung in back and forth over the world's population centers once a week.

They fled the cities. Urban areas were deserted as survivors sought to avoid crowds, where the virus could be transmitted effectively. Small country hamlets were under assualt by caravans of SUVs and imperious or panicked city-dwellers needing sanctuary, a place to hide. But inevitably one flu carrier would get in, often unknowingly a carrier, and another commuity would fall before Death's touch. Some small towns barricaded the roads leading in, guarding their health by whatever means necessary.

The virus, of course, didn't care. Its simple existence centered soley on replicating itself. There was no consciousness, no intent. When a host died, the viruses could not survive. Eventually, the population of humans became so spread out and isolated that the virus could not reach another host before it disintengrated. Humans, having reached a population critical mass, exploded. The population crash in fact insured their continued survival. Resources were abundant again. Earth, having the cancerous tumor of humanity excised, began recovering its ecosystems. Birds sang, rabbits hopped through a meadow. A bee buzzed lazily. Other pastoral images. Adam and Eve, Garden of Eden type thing going on. Maybe the human population returns but shuns clothing as a divisive symbol that encourages hate of the other! The whole human population becomes nudist! Ah, I like you better when you're naked anyway.