“Do we have any information about the source of the virus?” I ask. “Any animals it might have originated from, foreign travel the patient undertook, anything at all?”
“I’m trying to arrange a meeting with his wife. His widow. She’s nervous of talking to anyone. She thinks he did something wrong. It’s a delicate situation. I do know, having spoken to a few people who got in touch from his hometown when I did an online appeal for information, that he hadn’t traveled outside the UK for over two years. As for the animal hypothesis, I’m told he occasionally did small jobs that were on the wrong side of the law. I’m pursuing that as a possible route.”
All of us look so eager, it’s pathetic. We don’t know anything, she doesn’t know anything, this is all pointless. We’re wasting precious time. I have a team of immunologists, geneticists, virologists gathered here and for what? For Amanda to tell us that she doesn’t know anything yet. Great.
People are asking questions about the Isle of Bute’s climate, how she knew it was a virus, how she spotted it so quickly. It’s a massive circle jerk. I decide to make use of this time and get through some e-mails. God knows how long later, everyone on-screen starts saying their good-byes and that’s that.
“Back to work, team,” I say. What a fucking waste of time.
ELIZABETH
London, United Kingdom
Day 68
I can’t help but be fascinated by the range of scientists, from around the world, trying desperately to find a vaccine. The number of faces, most of them blurry or dropping in and out, made me feel emotional. I wish I could send a message out to the world: “We’re trying, I promise! We will find a vaccine.” It’s been two weeks since Dad died and every time I see evidence of the people desperately trying to stop more men dying, in labs across the globe, I want to weep with gratitude even though it can’t help Mom and me to bring him back. For now, I keep busy and keep smiling. Forward motion is the only thing that’s going to keep me upright.
After the call, George and I catch up for coffee to go over the progress my group in the lab has made in identifying the vulnerability of men and immunity of women. We’re gradually inching closer to an answer. We all think it must be genetic in some way, but we can’t know that until we have evidence for it. I’m setting out the plan for this week’s lab work when George stops me and rubs a hand over his tired face.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I need to figure out the labs better. I just don’t have the bandwidth to cover this much ground.” He sighs. “There’s four labs all working hell for leather, all producing information and I’m reviewing everything. I think we need to have a better system. I can’t do all of this and process it properly. We need a chain of command.” This vaguely military phrase sounds odd coming out of George’s mouth in his calm, exhausted voice. “I need to find people quickly and then, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I just know that I don’t have the capacity to take in what you’re telling me and use it right now. I don’t want to waste time, yours or mine.” His eyes are bloodshot from sleepless nights and late-night calls with the prime minister and senior government officials that I know about but don’t take part in.
“Make me your deputy,” I say, the words popping out of my mouth almost before I realize I’ve thought them.
George looks dubious.
“Trust me,” I go on, determined now for him to see that this makes sense. “I’m running the lab I’m in already and doing a good job, even if you haven’t officially told me I’m running it.” George makes an expression I interpret as meaning: can’t argue with that. “I did summer schools at Stanford Business School so I know about all the stuff you hate, like human resource management theory and Gantt charts that you need to show politicians and civil servants that you have a plan. I know the science. I know how to get on with people and you can trust me.” I smile my most winning “Let me go to Stanford, please” smile even though I’m so tired and sad that smiling feels only breaths away from grimacing. “And I literally can’t fly home or get sick so I’m not going anywhere.”