The Scourge

By Devika Hardikar

September 1st, 2193 

8:00 PM 

Dear Diary, 

Another failed attempt. It all seems so hopeless, however I know that we can do it. I am well aware it's been years since our last successful trial but we can't just jump to simple conclusions because one test worked. It must have been an outlier. I went back to the facility today and I remember feeling numb, like my whole world was just shutting down. The thoughts had become so unbearable that by the time lunch break rolled around I was a plane carrying too much weight. I was ready to drop out of the sky. 

As I opened the door to go outside, I was approached by a man who looked to be in his early 40s. I remember him asking if I could and would treat his father. He then explained how the virus has killed enough people to fill 4 stadiums. I looked over his shoulder to see a crippled man who looked to be in his 80s. His breaths were constrained and raspy so much that I could hear them from a distance of 4 metres. His eyes were discoloured and yellow and his cheeks were flushed. The sight had stabbed my stomach and my appetite bled away. The nausea left as soon as it came as I was forced to tell the man whose name I later found out was Tim, that I was a researcher working in the hospital's lab facility. I was no doctor. I watched as Tim walked away with his father. 

I rushed straight to my supervisor and begged him to at least the hospital to treat those with no health insurance or money. Yet he refused, telling me that not everyone makes it out okay. He was talking as if the lives of the homeless were expendable. Money truly does make the world go around, I thought bitterly. Anger flowed freely through my veins as I took my seat in the lab. 

I was more determined than ever to create a cure until I saw the first signs of progress in my microscope. I don't know what the future holds for tomorrow but I do know that I am going to work harder than ever to acquire a cure and finally be able to genetically modify the human body's immunity to fight this awful virus. 

Until tomorrow, 

Camrin

By Devika Hardikar