Not Again

Gee Whillickers

g.whillickers@gmail.com

“A horse?” asked Matt.

“Named Morse,” answered John with a nod.

Matt thought for a second. “That’s the source?”

John failed to suppress a grin and started to answer, “Of cour—”

“Don’t do it John, or I’ll have to hurt you,” Matt said with a threatening grin.

John feigned surprise. “You’d use force?”

A wadded up piece of paper hit John’s left eyebrow and sailed on over his head, landing on a lab bench.

“You’re sure though? It comes from horses? And it’s transferable to humans?”

John answered, “Yes. But it only affects male horses. It’s transferred through direct contact, and it can only infect male humans. It attaches itself to the Y chromosome.”

“Oh god.”

“I know. It’s a PR nightmare.”

“And it suppresses a person’s immune system?” asked Matt.

“Yes.”

“You know what this means, don’t you? When the press gets hold of this people will panic. Within two minutes it’s going to be dubbed ‘Horse Aids’.”

John protested, “But it’s not even a retrovirus.”

“It doesn’t matter. The press just won’t care. You know, they really have no remorse.”

John saw his chance, and this time finished his answer. “You’re right, of course.”