Thursday, January 5, 2012

virus hunter extraordinaire

I’ve decided that the coolest business card ever is that of a virus hunter. Sounds like something from a sci-fi movie, right? Good thing it’s actually a real profession: one that routinely prevents the apocalyptic demise of the global population. Ya know, like Neyo from the Matrix. Or Batman. Or any character that makes black leather look oh-so-cool.

We’ve all seen the movies and read the books about the virus that mutates, infects one person, and spreads, threatening the entire world with painful and slow death. The Hot Zone, Contagion, Outbreak, 28 Days Later, etc. The sheer number of these stories suggests the very real possibility that this will occur at some point. It almost has- the bird flu, Spanish influenza, SARS, and most recently H1N1 (swine flu). It’s sort of terrifying, and if you think about it too long you might induce a panic attack. So don’t.

Thankfully, thousands of brilliant minds around the world do the thinking for us. Lots of them are at the CDC in Atlanta, or employed by the World Health Organization, or work from their labs at universities. Virologists have learned a lot about the nature of modern viruses. The imagery we have come to associate with pandemic viruses often includes Asia, farm animals, people sneezing on each other, and ultimately blood leaking out places it shouldn’t followed by death. And all this is pretty accurate.

The viruses that have posed the biggest threats to us have originated in Asia and in a farm animal- usually a bird. The interesting thing is- viruses usually don’t skip from birds to humans. They require an intermittent carrier- and the common pig has proven to be a very good one. This is how it might go down…

Lets say a chicken on Mr. Smith’s farm contracts a deadly chicken flu. Mr. Smith himself is recovering from the common human flu- which he has given to one of the pigs on his farm. This pig also accidently eats some poop from the infected chicken, and so contracts both the human and bird flu. These viruses mutate and combine to create a sort of hybrid super-virus that can now be transferred to both humans and chickens alike. The pig is slaughtered and eaten, the unsuspecting humans not aware that it is sick. And so, the consumer of Mr. Smith’s bacon contracts the super virus- for which there is no known vaccine- and gives it to his family. His wife gives it to her coworker who is scheduled to fly across the country, who in turn gives it to someone on the airplane. Who gives it to 2 other people on the airplane, who give it to their families. You see where this is going….  a pandemic that induces mass chaos, panic, and death. Literally like in the movies.

Let’s go back to square one, with the chickens on Mr. Smith’s farm. The virus didn’t just spontaneously generate. It “lived” dormant in chickens- most not experiencing any sickness until our unlucky friend on Mr. Smith’s farm. The chickens were the “viral reservoir,” or the population of animals in which the virus could live and reproduce undetected. Remember the recent bout of H1N1 that now seems to have disappeared? Hate to burst the bubble, but it didn’t disappear. It found a reservoir and went into hiding. Virus hunters still haven’t found it.

Virus hunters (who in my mind must complete retinal scans to enter their offices and carry arsenic capsules in the event of capture) are sifting the globe right at this very moment. They’re taking samples from both suspected and random populations of animals. Mainly domestic, and mainly in Asia. They pore over genomes looking for both already-identified viruses in hiding and ones we’ve never even seen before. When one is found, its reservoir is destroyed (sorry PETA) and its genetic profile is shared with pharmaceutical companies and universities around the world so that we can start trying to develop a vaccine for it. I imagine that a virus hunter’s motto has something to do with an ounce of prevention and a pound of cure…

In reality, virus hunters probably wear khakis and plaid button downs with loafers and white socks. I bet they wash their hands a million times a day and don’t touch very many surfaces in public places. They know the alarming part airports play in the transfer of pathogens, but brave them anyway. If you ask me, they are some of the closest things to real-life superheroes that we have. 

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