“Are you religious, Dr. Michael?”
Lisa laughs, for just longer than is comfortable. “No, I’m not. I am very, very rich though.”
LISA
Toronto, Canada
Day 678
I’m feeling chirpy. The Public Health Agency woman, Ava, gives me a sideways look.
“Lisa, could you maybe . . . tone it down a bit?”
I frown at her. There, she probably thinks that’s better. “This meeting is a good thing, Ava. Everyone in the room is happy to be here.” Give me strength, we’re in the most enviable position of any country on the planet. Millions of people would kill to be in this room.
The door swings open and the minister of foreign affairs, Florence Etheridge, and her entourage sweep into the room, all expensive coats and Chanel perfume. There are air kisses and hugs and everyone’s so happy to see, isn’t it wonderful, yes, yes it’s fantastic to see you, just fantastic. I can only spend a few minutes with politicians before coming out in hives.
“Apologies for my tardiness,” Florence says. “It’s been back-to-back meetings on the US emigration issue for the past week. The American reforms are biting and, what can I say, everyone wants to be in Canada.”
Everyone else laughs on cue.
“We’re waiting for the Chinese still?” Florence asks.
“I believe they’re here, but we’ll call them in when we’re ready,” I reply, my voice calm and steady.
Florence pauses and looks at me, again, almost for too long. “I hope you know,” she says softly, “how grateful we all are. The rest of the world might judge you harshly because of what you’ve done, but to us you’re a hero. No more Canadian baby boys will die from the Plague, men who’ve been away from their families for years can safely reenter society. You’ve given us a golden ticket to become the most powerful nation on earth. The geopolitical slate has been partially wiped clean and we have what everybody wants.”
I smile, as graciously as I can. “You’re paying me handsomely for the privilege. Now, let’s get this vaccine made.”
Someone must have given an invisible signal because a few short minutes later, four Chinese women walk into the room. There are handshakes, coffee poured, polite compliments and inquiries about hotels but we all know what we’re here to do.
“We should begin,” a pretty woman with a serious expression says. The card in front of her on the table reads Tiffany Chang, Head of Vaccine Production Management, Independent State of Shanghai. Florence’s team reached out to Shanghai because they’re the most stable of the emancipated city-states and have the best vaccine production capacity. Beijing is still too violent, Tianjin doesn’t have the necessary facilities and Macau was never in the equation.
“Firstly, we want to thank you for reaching out to us with your offer,” Tiffany says. “We are very grateful for the opportunity to access the vaccine.”
“Why don’t you tell the room a little of your own background,” I suggest to Tiffany. Maybe Florence has read everything I sent her but if my experience with politicians is anything to go by, that’s as likely as pigs flying.
“Of course. In November 2025 I was third in command of polio vaccine production for the largest Chinese state-owned vaccine manufacturer in Shanghai. I was promoted quite a few times because . . .”
Her voice drifts off. We all know why.
“In my current post, for the last six months I’ve been preparing for the day when we would have a vaccine.”
“You’re ready to begin production?” I ask, my voice cushioned with excitement. I didn’t realize they were prepared.
“Yes, we’ve continued with smaller batches of our usual vaccine production to keep polio at bay for babies and children who had not been vaccinated at the time of outbreak.” Tiffany pauses and looks as though she’s preparing herself. “We know you didn’t come to us first,” she says, in a rush. “You asked the French and the Germans, but they refused to pay and, besides, you must have been worried they would split the cost and share the vaccine with each other. The Japanese were nonresponsive. Your relations with the United States obviously make this level of cooperation impossible.”