In a prestigious medical center, nestled among the skyscrapers of Bonifacio Global City—a bustling urban district known for its cutting-edge architecture, upscale shopping centers, and vibrant nightlife—Dr. Vincenzo de Luna was deep in investigation within a state-of-the-art medical laboratory. Examining a sample from one of the violent patients suspected of harboring a mysterious disease, he peered through his microscope at a slide containing what appeared to be human saliva.
Under the microscope, Dr. de Luna observed millions of unfamiliar strands moving actively in the extracellular fluid alongside the body's cells. Switching to a more powerful lens, he zoomed in until the structure of the strands became clear: a bullet-shaped, single-stranded RNA virus with a lipid envelope studded with glycoprotein spikes, encapsulating a helical nucleocapsid core. This distinctive structure is characteristic of viruses belonging to the Rhabdoviridae family, resembling the lyssavirus in appearance but with unique molecular features indicative of a novel pathogen.
"It appears to be a virus, bearing a structure reminiscent of the lyssavirus," he noted. "Sophia, could you please capture an image?" Dr. de Luna instructed his lab assistant calmly.
Sophia Tamayo, a diligent lab assistant in her late twenties, sat at the computer and captured the image as Dr. de Luna removed the slide and set it aside on the countertop. Using forceps, he carefully placed a new specimen—brain tissue and spinal cord from a fish—onto a fresh slide and positioned it on the microscope stage.
Scanning the fish brain cells, he found the same unknown strands among them. They proceeded to test various fish-based food products—ready-to-eat canned fish, fish snacks, and more—uncovering the presence of the strands in all samples.
"The fish and food products are tainted," Dr. de Luna concluded. "I hypothesize that the patient zeroes from the seaside provinces contracted the virus by ingesting infected fish. If so, many people in the city could already be infected due to the local fish trade."
After safely storing the samples in a freezer box, Dr. de Luna placed the used slides and forceps in an autoclave to sterilize them. Once done, he disposed of the equipment in a biohazard waste bag and removed his protective gear.
He stepped away from the countertop and settled into his office chair at the computer desk. Retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his lab coat pocket, Dr. de Luna placed a cigarette between his lips and returned the pack to his pocket. With a flick of the lighter, he ignited the cigarette and took a contemplative drag.
Dr. de Luna exhaled a plume of smoke, feeling his stresses dissipate. He swiveled back and forth in his office chair, finding solace in the calming effect of nicotine on his mind. "It's too late to stop it. We're facing the worst-case scenario: a potential pandemic. I've heard reports of similar outbreaks in other countries," he said grimly. "The infection cases I've reviewed from the hospital records indicate that symptoms appear within one to four hours of ingesting tainted seafood. After that, contracting the virus from an infected person's bite takes only one to four minutes, depending on how close the bite is to the brain. Do you realize how fast that is? It's an unprecedented incubation period, especially compared to rabies, which takes twenty to sixty days. Currently, there is no confirmation of its fatality rate, whether it's ninety-nine percent like Rabies or not. The infection cases we have are new and so far no one has died. If an infected person lived long enough to spread it to more people, it will be disastrous."
"There are over a hundred million people in the Philippines. If this highly contagious virus with such a short incubation period spreads and turns the population rabid in such a small country..." He trailed off, the implications too dire to voice fully. "With our limited medical staff, it's impossible to treat such a massive number of infected individuals, especially given their violent behavior. What we need now is military intervention and evacuation centers."
"Doctor…" Sophia's voice tinged with fear as she observed his demeanor, which though lacking hope, remained remarkably calm in the face of the escalating outbreak.
"Have you saved the images of the virus from each sample?" he asked.
"Yes, doctor. They're all saved in a folder in the cloud storage and labeled appropriately," Sophia confirmed.
"Good job. You can go home and spend time with your family, Sophia. And avoid eating seafood," he advised, taking another drag of his cigarette. "I'll write an immediate report to the Department of Health after my smoke break."
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"I don’t feel like going home, doctor. Can I stay and help you write the report?" Sophia asked, her formal demeanor softening.
"Sure, I'd appreciate that," Dr. de Luna replied.
"Doctor, can I… have one?" Sophia asked, gesturing to his cigarette pack.
Dr. de Luna handed her a cigarette and gently lit it for her as she placed it between her lips. "We should consider informing our families about what's happening," he suggested.
"You're right," Sophia agreed, exhaling smoke and glancing at the freezer box on the countertop.
After their smoke break, they worked diligently on the report, detailing their hypothesis about patient zeroes and the tainted fish, their methodology, results, and evidence, including microscopic images of the virus. Their conclusion emphasized urgent measures to mitigate the spread of the disease.
"For now, let's call it 'mater lyssavirus' locally," Dr. de Luna proposed.
They sent the comprehensive report to the Department of Health at exactly 6:00 PM.
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The opening music of the news channel signaled a critical update. "Good evening, viewers. It's 6:30 PM, and tonight, we bring you the latest on the spreading disease outbreak. Fresh from the Department of Health, their official statement and public advisory have just been released. Stay tuned as our team at the DOH Convention Hall in Santa Cruz, Manila, provides live coverage of the unfolding conference."
The radio broadcast continued, sans video feed from the convention hall. "Attention, citizens and business owners," the announcer's voice filled the airwaves, "In response to a highly contagious viral outbreak reminiscent of rabies, initial cases have been identified in coastal provinces, primarily affecting fishermen. Transmission is linked to the consumption of contaminated seafood, making those who ingested tainted marine products the primary carriers."
"In collaboration with the Food and Drug Administration, all seafood products must be immediately disposed of, and businesses dealing with aquatic life are to temporarily cease operations. Compliance is mandatory, with penalties including imprisonment and business closure for non-compliance. These measures are crucial to mitigate further spread within our communities, prioritizing public health and safety."
Isko glanced nervously at Lydia, who was busy cooking. "Hey, Lydia, can you remember everything you've eaten today?"
"We had omelette for breakfast, bought grilled chicken blood and intestines, and pork barbecue for lunch after nursery school, and now I'm cooking sizzling pork sisig for our dinner," Lydia replied.
"Are you sure that's all?" Isko asked with concern.
"Yes, why do you ask?" Lydia wondered.
"It's about the fish—they said seafood could be tainted with the virus. I'm glad you haven't eaten any fish today," Isko said with relief.
"Oh my..." Lydia paused, realization dawning. "That explains why my friend at school, Lucia's classmate's mother, was feeling sick this morning. She packed seafood in her child's lunchbox. I hope they're okay."
The radio broadcast continued with urgent updates. "We inform you of a serious public health issue concerning the emergence of a locally identified virus known as 'mater lyssavirus,' similar to rabies. Our understanding is limited, and research is ongoing to determine its symptoms and characteristics. The public is advised to exercise caution, avoid contact with infected individuals, and prevent exposure to the virus through bites, scratches, or saliva."
Isko listened intently as the announcements continued, "Effective immediately, in collaboration with the Armed Forces of the Philippines and Philippine National Police, military blockades and evacuation centers will be established nationwide. Currently as we speak, police checkpoints are present in every city to ensure the security of our citizens from the growing effect of the outbreak as well as crimes being committed in the streets. Citizens are urged to prepare essential items and follow evacuation procedures to designated evacuation centers. Personal safety and vigilance are paramount."
As Dr. Miriam Angeles, the Department of Health secretary, concluded her address, media personnel clamored for questions, including Miss Perla Magsino in the crowd who was there as a field reporter.
...
"Lydia, we need to pack up, now," Isko said urgently, his face pale with sweat.
"Isko," Lydia called gently from where she sat on the floor with Lucia, waiting for dinner. "Please, sit with us first. You haven't eaten anything yet."
"But Lydia—" Isko began, his panic evident.
"We're in this together, babe," Lydia reassured him calmly. "Let's eat first. There won't be any stores open, and we'll need our strength for the journey."
"Papa, let's eat!" Lucia chimed in, pulling at Isko's sleeve.
Realizing Lydia's reasoning, Isko sighed deeply and joined them on the floor. One empty plate and a set of utensils were laid out for Inggo, though he was absent from dinner that evening. Isko and Lydia stared at it, their concern evident as they worried about their eldest child trapped at school. Inside their classroom, dangers lurked with infected students and school staff roaming outside.
"After this, I'll prepare provisions," Lydia said, concern for Inggo evident in her voice. "We'll pack something for him too."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Isko agreed softly, taking a few bites of his meal. "Hang on, let me get some water," he added, setting down his plate and heading to the refrigerator.