before she had called in sick, had been to three different countries; Saudi Arabia, France and Mexico. While on her aircraft, she had met literally thousands of people, from all walks of life. Depending on when she had actually become contagious, she could have spread the disease all around the world on her own. She had certainly infected most of her workmates, who had all been in the early stages of Henderson’s Disease when medical personnel had reached their homes. If she had been the only carrier, it suggested that Henderson’s Disease had an incubation period of just under a week – unlike regular smallpox, which had an incubation period of twelve to fourteen days - but there was no way to know that for sure. If there were other carriers, the disease might have a longer incubation period.
He took one last look at Miss Henderson, who was moaning in pain as a needle gently penetrated her arm, and walked away. It seemed obscene to keep her alive when they could spare her suffering, but there was no choice. He told himself that they had to know everything they could about the disease, yet it meant prolonging – perhaps even worsening – her suffering. There were plenty of people in the world who deserved to suffer, he knew, including the perverted doctors who had warped smallpox into Henderson’s Disease, but a doctor was not meant to encourage suffering. He had known that he would have to play fast and loose with his medical ethics when he joined Wildfire, all in the name of the greater good, yet it was harder now he was facing a real patient. The only other emergencies he had faced had been in drills, where no one had actually suffered and it had been easy to prescribe harsh and desperate measures.
His Bluetooth phone buzzed. “Doctor, this is Jack,” a voice said. “We’re ready for you in Room Three.”
Nicolas grimaced as he passed through a set of airlocks and into a long passage leading down to a second set of secure rooms. He had always taken his oaths seriously – above all, first do no harm – and what they were about to do broke his oaths, along with hundreds of national and international agreements on just what doctors and researchers could and could not do. He told himself that there were already hundreds of known cases of Henderson’s Disease – and doubtless thousands of unknown cases, who would begin to show symptoms over the next couple of days – and desperate measures were required, yet the whole concept disgusted him. It smacked of what the Nazis or the Japanese had done back in the Second World War, or, for that matter, of the perverted genius that had created Henderson’s Disease.
Years ago, in 1796, Doctor Edward Jenner had realised that milkmaids – who caught cowpox as a result of their work – never seemed to catch smallpox, which had roared through England from time to time. In an experiment that would have horrified his future descendents, Jenner had taken cowpox from a young milkmaid and transferred it to a young boy, who had promptly caught the disease. When the subject had recovered, Jenner had attempted to infect him with smallpox, an act that could well have killed him. The boy hadn’t caught the disease. Jenner had repeated the experiment several times and then started encouraging people to spread the word, using cowpox to immunise people against the far more deadly smallpox. Jenner had become known as the Father of Immunology for his work, saving the human race from one of the deadliest scourges known to man. He would have been astonished to discover that, in the future, testing new and experimental cures was so hedged around by rules and regulations that the process had practically ground to a halt and human experimentation was effectively banned.
Nicolas stopped outside the viewing room and pressed his hand against the biometric reader, allowing it to scan his fingerprints before allowing him access.
He took one last look at Miss Henderson, who was moaning in pain as a needle gently penetrated her arm, and walked away. It seemed obscene to keep her alive when they could spare her suffering, but there was no choice. He told himself that they had to know everything they could about the disease, yet it meant prolonging – perhaps even worsening – her suffering. There were plenty of people in the world who deserved to suffer, he knew, including the perverted doctors who had warped smallpox into Henderson’s Disease, but a doctor was not meant to encourage suffering. He had known that he would have to play fast and loose with his medical ethics when he joined Wildfire, all in the name of the greater good, yet it was harder now he was facing a real patient. The only other emergencies he had faced had been in drills, where no one had actually suffered and it had been easy to prescribe harsh and desperate measures.
His Bluetooth phone buzzed. “Doctor, this is Jack,” a voice said. “We’re ready for you in Room Three.”
Nicolas grimaced as he passed through a set of airlocks and into a long passage leading down to a second set of secure rooms. He had always taken his oaths seriously – above all, first do no harm – and what they were about to do broke his oaths, along with hundreds of national and international agreements on just what doctors and researchers could and could not do. He told himself that there were already hundreds of known cases of Henderson’s Disease – and doubtless thousands of unknown cases, who would begin to show symptoms over the next couple of days – and desperate measures were required, yet the whole concept disgusted him. It smacked of what the Nazis or the Japanese had done back in the Second World War, or, for that matter, of the perverted genius that had created Henderson’s Disease.
Years ago, in 1796, Doctor Edward Jenner had realised that milkmaids – who caught cowpox as a result of their work – never seemed to catch smallpox, which had roared through England from time to time. In an experiment that would have horrified his future descendents, Jenner had taken cowpox from a young milkmaid and transferred it to a young boy, who had promptly caught the disease. When the subject had recovered, Jenner had attempted to infect him with smallpox, an act that could well have killed him. The boy hadn’t caught the disease. Jenner had repeated the experiment several times and then started encouraging people to spread the word, using cowpox to immunise people against the far more deadly smallpox. Jenner had become known as the Father of Immunology for his work, saving the human race from one of the deadliest scourges known to man. He would have been astonished to discover that, in the future, testing new and experimental cures was so hedged around by rules and regulations that the process had practically ground to a halt and human experimentation was effectively banned.
Nicolas stopped outside the viewing room and pressed his hand against the biometric reader, allowing it to scan his fingerprints before allowing him access.
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