The Survivalist [27 - Death Watch] by Ahern Jerry

Author:Ahern, Jerry [Ahern, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-two

Deitrich Zimmer's favorite computer model of the effect of the virus was playing on screen before him. It was neither the most optimistic, nor the most pessimistic; but, instead, the most realistic.

Only eight percent of the canisters would actually be released and function properly, disgorging into the air their entire contents.

Fewer than three hundred thousand people would be infected by this direct method.

Each of these people would infect no more than three people (although, according to other models, more than five times that number would be infected within the first ten days). That would mean slightly fewer than one million people would be dying from the virus and, at the same time, spreading it—but long before they knew it. These people would infect at least three people each; and, again, those numbers were grossly underestimated.

Within three weeks, three million people would be infected already dying, but fewer than ten percent of this number would realize that their lives were at all altered let alone in mortal jeopardy.

Within sixteen weeks, better than ninety percent of the entire human population of the planet would be dying, fewer man twenty percent realizing it.

Before six months had passed, over ninety-six percent of

all human beings, regardless of where they lived, no matter how remote the location, would be dying. Many of the higher animals would be affected as well.

Within nine months, over fifteen percent of the initially infected persons would be dead. Within twelve months, better than seventy-five percent of those initially infected would be dead.

Within two years, better than ninety-three percent of all humankind would be dead, as well as millions of the higher animals. The human race, as it was called, would be in its last throes.

Within five years, no human being would remain alive, except for himself, his son and the clones he had made of them both. It would be difficult, making do without assistants, without servants, but the two would somehow manage for the good of the greater purpose. And after ten years had passed and the virus had run its course and died—that was part of the beauty of the thing, that the virus would, in a decade, destroy itself—conditions would be safe for the first few of the subspecies to be released slaves to perform the necessary manual labor, to prepare for the coming of the Master Race.

Within a century, by manipulating the breeding process, the population of the Earth would be stabilized at acceptable levels and all would be in order.

Order, nearly as much as life, was his fondest desire.

Yet, all his planning might be for naught if the racial inferiors who postured as governors of the Trans-Global Alliance were unable to stop the spread of the suboceanic rift, divert the energy within the vent without destroying the entire planet in the process.

The potential irony of such a situation did not escape him, that he had successfully laid the groundwork from which humanity's brightest hour would emerge, and his plans might never come to fruition because of the very humanity he was trying to uplift.

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