Fierce and Forty

There was the pandemic almost a lifetime ago, memories of homeschooling, home baking, and work from home. What we thought was a once-in-a-lifetime global pandemic event was not so. Sure, daily life was different but a more destructive virus came along.

Everything of course collapsed again. It became apparent how unprepared we were. The virus wiped out more of the new growing population. No one survived past their 40th birthday. Talk about a mid-life crisis, right? No spring break. No vacations. Just work and purpose. The rat race takes a whole new meaning.

We can’t waste a single moment. Life has to move on. It’s exhausting though. So, to preserve our future, the government decided to have all babies be screened for abnormalities to make sure the future is “bright.” It feels forced. Perfection. Being that as it may, after birth, the government has everyone scanned for genetic coding, we are given a barcode tattoo, predicted best occupation, and date of expected viral death.

Genetic predisposition to a mindset and career takes the guesswork out of “finding yourself” I guess. People enjoy their jobs because they know this is literally what they were made for. It is a satisfying life because one is living out their purpose.

Oddly enough, there aren’t many politicians anymore. The creative realm is really limited too. Teachers, scientists, and anything that adds “value” to society quickly is predicted and picked for everyone. More people are assigned to “useful” professions or jobs because of this. I guess an expiration date from the virus now gives a purpose to life for many.

People don’t have time to waste. They just follow their genetic roadmap for life. Why? I guess people don’t want to waste their precious time left with conflict. There isn’t time for revolution when the clock is literally ticking and your days are literally numbered. The hourglass only gets one go around after all.

I try to remain hopeful – I am a scientist after all. Perhaps it is desperation. Whatever you want to call it, my entire professional career has been about providing hope….a cure for this virus. I need to believe we can find a cure and people can survive this. Granted, never normal again, but life will be OKAY someday. I want more than okay to be honest. I want everyone to live a long and happy life. Screw productive and pre-picked for us.

So, the lab is my home. Eat, sleep, research, repeat. I wake up tired from another day and night of nothing new to combat the virus. Tugging at my emotions is in my heart inside my heart locket. A picture of my family that is now past their expiration date.

Surviving the virus makes me feel guilty. What is my purpose if I’m going to expire in a few weeks? I guess it is crunch time. Coffee is my go juice. I run what seems to be the same tests again and again. Control group and test group. What makes the virus activate? What was the solution?

Then it happened…the results weren’t the problem. We were the control group. The virus was cured a long time ago. To keep the population controlled and more productive, the government really puts a dormant virus with the barcode to kill people at 40. The genetic screening is a way to make sure of productivity.

What should I do? I need to publish my findings and get this to someone. The hourglass is almost filled up for me….to bad my genetics didn’t make me a sprinter too. Time to think outside the box again.

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