Influenza

- Page 1 -

Imagine, if you will, a long corridor. Gaze with me down that impossibly long, antiseptic hallway. See the men struggling at the far end of it, barely visible in the washed-out fluorescent light. Two burly gentlemen in black suits and faceless sunglasses who wrestle a third, shaggy haired man out one door and through another. If you listen, you can hear his cries from at a great distance. But only just.

Follow them then, into a small chamber. Sterile white walls and mounted lights that pierce not into your eyes, but through them. Feel the cold plastic and metal surface of the chair. See the third man driven into it, clamped into its icy restraints and bound there. Check his twitching eyes for humanity and discover that this light allows for none.

Retreat now, quickly, into a sheltering corner as a fourth man strides into the room. Gawk at the passionless uniformity of his surgical scrubs. Note the way that his presence drives even the blacksuits back. See him lean in over his helpless patient. The hypodermic syringe looming in his hand and reflecting in his eyes. Notice that he does not shake.

Now see him pause. Uncertainty changing his automaton's eyes.

"Has this patient paid?"

The men in black exchange glances, each evidently hoping that the other will answer.

"Well, has he?"

"I thought this was free?" The patient stares challengingly at his persecutor. His writhing has suddenly stopped.

The doctor pulls back, annoyed. "It's only free if you're in a high risk category. Otherwise it's $18. And it's not covered by your medical."

"Oh. No one mentioned that."

"Do you have $18?" The doctor asks the patient and then exchanges disbelieving looks with the suits who now, you will note, are fidgeting in an unbecoming manner.

"Not on me, no."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to go." He turns to his dark-attired associates. "Release this man."

Imagine now a world, a world in which the people pool their resources. A world where elected officials, acting on behalf of an altruistic population, pool the collective wealth and knowledge to help the unfortunate. In this world, disease and illness would be endangered species. Science would receive funding to develop new cures. People, regardless of ability to pay, would receive treatment. All men would, in a small sense, be equal.

Now imagine a world in which the people didn't trust the system enough to actually use it.

That's right, sceptical nomads, I speak of our world. Pause to scream if you're feeling melodramatic.

I'm speaking of our world, and a peculiar anomaly that exists within it. An anomaly that centres around flu shots. Each fall, the governments of the western world dip deep into their pockets. They spend heavily to provide immunizations – for free, or a nominal fee – to protect their populations against the ravages of influenza. A program that has been in place for decades. And yet, the populations of the world are riddled with distrust. What, we have to ask, is the matter? Look closer now, and you'll see that the mistrust comes in several, distinct forms. Like designer viruses, architected to attack the idiosyncrasies of individual immune systems. A Machiavellian system allowing maximum penetration of the target culture.

That's right, sceptical nomads, I speak of our world. Pause to scream if you're feeling melodramatic.

The first variant targets the smallest group. A group that exists on the fringes of society, trading narrow-eyed rumours and living just below the surface. Like resistance fighters under occupation. These subjects fear mass immunization, perceiving it as a sinister effort by a Big-Brother government to control the population. They talk of mind-control drugs and an Orwellian future of servitude. They resist as though their lives depended upon it.

But this fear could not take root in any but a limited few. The second variant, however, reaches a somewhat larger range of subjects. This second group consists of people who find themselves in a confusingly technical world. A world in which the monsters that hunt them are no longer clear or obvious. A place where the cures and preventative measures given to them by the elite members of a closed and inaccessible medical community are beyond the average person's ability to understand. Faced with this gap in understanding, the second group chooses to shun science and enlightenment. They argue that a fallback to earlier, simpler ways will save them where science cannot. They argue that modern medicine has gone astray, that doctors kill 250,000 people each year. They argue that immunization poisons the body and robs it of its natural defences. They host websites, hold conferences and distribute newsletters, spreading their message.

They choose to believe almost anything. Almost anything as long as they think they understand how it's supposed to work. The influence of the second variant is not small.

But the third variant affects the largest group.

To the subjects in this classification, there are no suspicions of conspiracy. They do not openly distrust the medical community. They do not necessarily suspect their government's intentions. Their fear is more basic. Their reason for avoiding immunization is simpler. They trade stories around campfires and are held captive by the unreasonable taint of myth. You may have encountered it yourself. The friend who knows someone. Someone who got sick immediately after receiving a flu shot. The flu vaccine, so the story goes, contains small quantities of live virus capable of making you sick. Likely to make you sick. A quick look at the information on a immunization package will quickly confirm that the virus involved is killed with formaldehyde – that there is no live virus present, no way to cause sickness.

The dead virus is no more likely to reanimate and come after you than your late Aunt Margaret.

But where myth holds sway, facts are lost. The virus does its work.

And so, recalcitrant nomads, you can choose to get a flu shot. Or you can choose to not get a flu shot. But either way, you will take your medicine.