#i’m on the worst cold stage which is sore throat and no other symptoms

[piierrote]

turns out… i am not terrible bad at art i in fact was developing a cold that was giving me brain fog….

[yi-dashi-a]

They Call Him Yì Dàshī - Part 1

It was less of a tent, and more cloth held up by twigs, but still it served its purpose. Sleet bounced audibly across its roof, almost drowning out the groans from within. Rows upon rows of dying and the dead lay helpless. Some lacked sense, or an arm and leg, and those who didn’t cry out cackled instead. Most too were covered with weeping sores that pinkened their skin and sizzled with ill intent.

Reality was as simple as that while medics struggled against injuries and symptoms never seen before by the war effort.  

It helped little when an amalgamation of all the suffering nearly ripped the tent from its pegs as he tore open its door. Backlit by a muted sunset, and floating on whispers of thought, he stole the attention of all. Especially so when his voice managed to echo against cloth and carry on the gale,

“|Who is in charge here?|”

“|Y-You… you’re Master Yi!|”

As quickly as Yi had lorded his resolve, so too did it fall out from under him. Suddenly he found himself on a knee, dropping as if gravity wished to pick on him in specific. And even the most hardened of soldier’s present approached him with sluggish disgust, listening close as his husky voice began to fade,

“|I need to tell someone…|”

Unknowingly the Highlander placed a bloodied hand upon his side, expecting to find a pink and gold Ionian insignia there as it had always been. His nerves lit up however when raw skin met cloth, acidic like muck still clinging to him and eating away at the grime between the wefts of his gloves. Other hands then came about him, their ice cool rags feeling as if they were scraping away the skin and muscle of his entire right side, head to toe. It took him a moment to realise they were actually physically peeling his war regalia away from his wounds. The slightest tatters of red stained robe took with them protection from the cold, creating a strange battle between the burning and freezing of his flesh.

He would have screamed, but he was beyond the point of crying out.

“|What happened?|” Said some unknowable someone to the Bladesman, and wrapped up in his own ills it took a second, firmer, “|Wuju Bladesman! What happened to your squad?|” for his goggles to stir upon his head,

“|I don’t know…| Techmaturgical fire… Deadly machines…”

“|… I can’t understand you, Yi.|”

“|He’s dying, captain.|” Spat another man, “|I don’t think he’s in a position to be understood.|”

“|I’m not dying!|” Proclaimed the Bladesman, “|I just… don’t know… what…|”

“|…Yi, please.|”

“|What… happened..?|”

“|Master Yi!|”

The world dulled to his hextech eyes, and no matter how hard he tried to speak no words would leave his gravelly throat. Against the deep, gnawing agony it told him no more, and instead it focused on the deep pelting of the hail that thundered distantly. They hurriedly jostled him about, clearing out a dead man for a live one. With a thud and a wheeze, he came to rest on his front, and work continued whether Yi was aware of it or no.

Fire, he thought, his brain finding no resistance to a stream of consciousness, Explosions, gas, poison, death. Booming… Booming!

Suddenly the rattle of hail didn’t seem so inconspicuous, but before the rise and fall of his chest could leave his control, screeching torture returned along with proper comprehension of spoken word.

“Y... Yì Dàshī?”

Yi’s eyes widened, lenses along with them. Chest to ground as he was, he wasn’t facing the same way as the familiar voice, but he was as determined to change that as the man to his right was to speak up,

“|Master… P-Please. Is that you?|”

“|Easy now…|” Soothed a medic, but the Wuju Practitioner was already grunting and moaning as he arduously shuffled in his position. He nearly flopped back groundward with a hiss of air through his teeth, but the lenses stayed firmly where they sat. And it was important they did, because behind their furious actuations he could behold a sad and sorry soul.

He was half a man, his extremities mostly gone. He hadn’t been like this when last Yi remembered seeing him. For whatever reason he had to remind himself of that. That didn’t change the fact he was bleeding through his makeshift cloth bandages, the healer within noted, especially about the eyes...

“Nn… Sh…”

His eyes. His head was bandaged from top to bottom, allowing only room for speech and for his nose. It was clear though that some pustulant concoction wept from his skull, poorly contained as everything else was. Yet suddenly, Yi found, that when he should have felt his worst he was again fading into a murky grey existence. Upon beholding the man, the student, he felt his breaths measure themselves. The boom of the weather was still present, but it only served to enhance the things he heard.

“|Master..?|” The young soldier reached out with a stub of an arm, his voice ringing clear but distant, “|Did I… Did w-we… do good? Did we fight for what’s... right?|”

Yi’s own arm was a quivering mess as he tried to mimic the other. Against dull tearing sensations he just barely put a hand upon the man,

“Sh… Sh..!”

“…Shu, hm?”

It wasn’t often Yi saw his father’s posture falter, but it wasn’t often that he saw his father so utterly bored either. Sitting at the Wuju Master’s flank, as was tradition, he as well found himself reclining somewhat as the ordeal grew long. Two people, a man and his nervous son, stood before the stage upon which the Wuju Practitioners sat. The father, comedically enough, began to all but prostrate himself before the then Master of the Wuju art, his voice an urgent quiver,

“Yes! Indeed! My son is perfectly adept with the blade for his age. Trust me, and I would be so honoured as for you to take him into your school—“

“--You realise it has been thirty years since this place has operated as an enrolling school?” To that Yi had to scoff. He felt so important somehow, with his birth single-handedly shutting down the school, but despite the outburst the older Practitioner continued, “You came all the way from the Lowlands just to hear me say no. Perhaps with foresight you would have known not to come at all.”

“Please, Master Yi. My son’s destiny is not to run about a farm for the rest of his life. I know he has potential for greatness. Just give him a chance.”

“You already know my answer. If you need tea, or a place to stay, then you are welcome to stay here until you must depart again.”

“Master Yi you need to understand--”

“--However.” The Head of Clan rose to his feet, and Yi took it as his cue to do the same. The then Master was a short statured man, at least in comparison to his son, but he made up for it in an intimidating glare and menacing presence, “If you use this opportunity to continue kissing my sandals, or to try and continue pushing your son upon me, then I will have no choice but to ask you to leave.” The man looked over his shoulder, an audible ‘tch’ exiting his lips when he noted his son’s smarmy grin, “Student?”

“Yes, Master?”

“This meeting is done. Show our guests to a place where they may settle, if they so require.”

“Of course, Master.” In a flourished bow of a lengthy ponytail, and robes worn loose about his lithe body, Yi bustled by his father and set off, “Come along you two. There are plenty of rooms to choose from. Because, you know, this is a school.” With a snort and a laugh, he listened for the padding of their feet upon wooden boards, and sure enough they followed.

But rhythmic sounds of foot traffic soon gave way to a grovelling pest,

“There must be something you can do uh… What do I call you?”

“Don’t look at me.” Yi waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t run anything around here.”

“Surely you’re a powerful man, whatever the title? You must have some sway?”

Yi looked over his shoulder in the slowest of ways, doing so as the hallways they sought to traverse grew dim as sunlight fell away. But his amber eyes shone on still, striking further hilarious fear into the expression of the man,

“Oh, trust me. I have a lot of sway here. Whether any of that sway is for you is another matter entirely…”

But Yi’s voice trailed off when he noted the tiny, spindly boy that walked half a step away from his father. No fear lay there as he watched the Wuju Student’s eyes dance with yellow fire. His face was painted instead with a million questions it seemed, yet he lacked the initiative to ask them. That was something Yi thought to change.

Because why not? This was already boring enough. It wasn’t often they had guests there anyway.

“You know,” He began, turning his gaze forward as the hallway took a sharp ninety-degree bend, “For all the talking you’ve done, you have yet to let the boy say a thing. Not even to give his own name. What would he do if you left him here without his voice?” Though every doorway effectively housed a room of some description, it took Yi a while to choose one in specific. It was perhaps for his own Master’s sanity, if anything. When he finally pulled away a screen door to a dusty dorm, he ensured it was one with a good view of the temple’s courtyard… and of the gate that led out and away from the place. After inspecting the room momentarily, he turned with astute grace and held his amber gaze upon the child directly, “Shu, right?”

“Eh… Y-Yes Mister.” Yi stooped to the boy’s level then, resting his arms upon his braced knee,

“How many passes of the moon have you seen, Shu?”

“… Six. I’m six.”

“Six?” He made an impressed sort of whistle, “A whole six moons. I can’t even remember much from when I was six. Do you like swords?” The boy gave a slow nod, to which Yi inclined his head somewhat, “Do you want to be able to use one?”

“I’m sure he--” The father’s outburst was quelled with but the raising of Yi’s hand, for suddenly he found himself… entranced by the boy and his posture. Something was there, and even a journeyman of Wuju as he, was he felt compelled to test a child in his convictions,

“…Do you want to be able to use a sword, Shu?” Once again the boy nodded, but with more energy this time. At that Yi swiftly quipped with, “Why?”

“Wh…” Shu’s gaze lowered, his brow furrowing. For a moment he looked about the room, then to his silenced father, and then back to Yi. No answer was to be found with his eyes seemingly, so he parroted back the simple question, “… Why?”

“Yes. Why? Why a sword? Why Wuju? Why has your father brought you here?”

“He… I…” With a cute, deep breath, the boy pouted, “I asked to come here, Mister.”

“Oh?”

“Y-Yeah!”

“... Why?”

“Because I...” The child began to chew his lip softly, “... I like Wuju a lot.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Leaning forward with a crooked smile, Yi asked once again, “Why?”

“B-Because… Because…” Shu’s tan face seemed to redden, and he fidgeted where he stood, “It’s because… You’re the demon, right?” To that Yi’s bushy eyebrows rose. Even children could be surprising, or confusing, it seemed,

“Demon?”

“Yeah... Yeah!” From somewhere within his robes the boy managed to fish out a piece of parchment, and with the wall of nerves breaking down he thrust it towards the Bladesman. Though it was a benign sort of thing, Yi still took it from the boy with an air of hesitation,

“What is… this?”

His honey eyes widened, a bit more than he’d care to let on, as he scanned the contents of the paper. It was a simple ink rendering with a style unmistakable. Upon it was a man with a great ringed sword, his robes billowing against the nebulous creature he faced. Its form was near undefined… but notably against the black, sharp ink some gold paint had been stroked for eyes, “… The Demon of the Sky. This was the dance of last Day of Blades. Old Man Wu-Chau paints these for Festival goers. How did you..?”

“I really liked the performance, M… Mister Hui, yeah? You’re the one who played the Demon of the Sky..?” Yi had to admit, he had little interest in the painted arts. Renderings of himself, however, were always things that stroked the ego yet somehow humbled him, especially when little kids took their drawings and held them close to their chest, “I came last year. I saw the fights, but I didn’t like them so much. But then I saw the dances… I want to be able to do that too! I found out it was a Wuju thing though. No one else teaches... so I just tried to remember myself for a long time. I practice every day.”

“… Practice what?” He managed to ask, but suddenly it was he who had the million questions.

“The dances!” The boy exclaimed, “I try to remember it all… but some parts I forget. The part in the drawing though, I remember that part. The part where the Wuju Master says he can run faster than the gale, but then the Sky Demon goes,” And before Yi’s very eyes did the boy take up his near perfect posture, going through motions to the tapping of his foot. Though lacking some finesse, the man almost heard the beat in his mind as the child hit just about every point. Amazingly so. Perfect angled hands corresponded with the right foot shuffling to a beat, and he could certainly keep time, “No, no, no! Back! No. No. No! Like that!”

The boy stood tall and proud at the end of his routine, clicking his heels together so as to stand stock straight, “I wanted to do that, even though my Papa wants me to fight...” That learned posture fell away as soon as it had come though, with Shu’s gaze returning to its nervous distance, “...but  I guess I won’t be doing that now, right? I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making everyone angry, Mister Hui...”

It was the Bladesman’s turn to look towards the father, the other man near ready to jump down his throat with excuses for his son’s supposed foolery. Excuses never flew, however, with the Wuju Practitioner rising swiftly to his feet. As trivial as it was, as laughable as it was... he couldn’t help but want to know more. About the child. About his drive. About how, despite all the cool things he must have seen during festival time, it was the non-violence that had drawn him to the temple. His robes were a flurry about him as he took off, stealing some sort of bewondered sound from the boy.

“... Follow me, kid.” He said, almost without thinking, to which the boy once again stuttered,

“Wh... Why, Mister Hui?” And with that know-it-all smile plastered back on his face, YI stopped only momentarily to reply,

“Let us dance.” Before he was lost to the hallways once again.

[cardamomoespeciado]

A pandemic of influenza called the "Spanish cold" that began in 1918 kills 50 million people worldwide and is considered one of the worst plagues in history.

Corona infection, virus How long will it stay in the body?

/> Scientists have been debating about the place of this epidemic for decades, and various places such as France, China, and the Midwest of the United States have been proposed. Since the origin cannot be determined, scientists are still unable to get a real picture of the disease, including the conditions that created the virus and the factors that could cause similar pandemics in the future.

The Spanish cold claimed more lives than World War I, which ended in 1918, the same time as the pandemic outbreak. Recent studies have pointed out that the forgotten episode during World War I may have been the origin of the spread of the Spanish cold. It locked the Chinese workers in a train, crossed Canada, and carried them to Europe.

It is possible that a pandemic may have been caused by the mobilization of 96,000 workers from China to support the British and French troops on the Western Front. The record he found is supporting that.

It was January 2014 that Mr. Humphreys' paper was published in the academic journal "War in History". He admits that testing this hypothesis requires taking virus samples from Spanish cold victims. With such evidence, it will be possible to narrow down the origin of the Spanish cold to one place.

However, some historians feel that his argument is convincing.

"These records are almost definitive evidence for historians," said James Higgins, a historian studying the 1918 pandemic in the United States. "It answers a lot of questions about the pandemic of that time."

■The last plague I experienced

　The Spanish cold pandemic struck the world in three times. The first wave began in the spring of 1918. The strain that is the ancestor of the H1N1 influenza, which is still prevalent, became the pathogen.

　Unlike the common flu, the Spanish cold was the victim of many healthy young people with a strong immune system. It can be said that World War I contributed not only to the large number of deaths, but also to the Spanish cold.

"The 1918 flu was the newest outbreak of human epidemics and spread to the world in the footsteps of conflict," Humphreys said.

As mentioned earlier, the origin of this pandemic is still unknown, but the theory that mobilized Chinese workers were the cause of the spread of infection has long been advocated.

Mr. Humphreys found literature that claimed that the respiratory illness that had spread in northern China in November 1917 was confirmed a year later by Chinese health authorities to be the same as a Spanish cold.

He also said that out of the 25,000 Chinese workers who had been sent to Europe across Canada since 1917, many of the more than 3,000 quarantined workers had flu-like symptoms. I also found a record.

Two or three turns around the origin

■Two or three turns of origin

The Spanish cold reached its peak in the fall of 1918, but continued to rage until 1920. Despite the pandemic all over the world, it became known as the "Spain" cold because censorship during the war only covered the epidemic in Spain, a neutral country.

According to Higgins, doctors have been arguing over the origin of the Spanish cold since its outbreak, and soon historians have joined it.

First, it was thought that the French troops, which were covered with dirt, illness, and death, became the hotbed of the Spanish cold. It was explained that the high number of youth victims was due to the spread of young soldiers in trenches. It is also said that soldiers returning from Europe to the United States spread the infection to Boston and Philadelphia in the United States.

10 years after the war, a new theory appears that it originated in Kansas, USA. It was based on reports that the outbreak of influenza in the state spread to nearby Army Garrison in March 1918, killing 48 infantry.

However, according to a paper by Mr. Humphreys, a respiratory tract epidemic occurred in 1917 in villages along the Great Wall of China, causing dozens of deaths per day. The disease, which local health officials called "winter flu," spread by the end of 1917, as far as 500 kilometers in six weeks.

　The disease was initially thought to be lung plague, but the mortality rate was much lower than typical lung plague.

Mr. Humphreys found in a 1918 report by a British Embassy staff member that the illness was influenza. I was just looking for a wartime record of the Chinese labor force and the British Legation in Beijing when I was looking for historical archives in Canada and Britain.

■ Crossing Canada by isolated train

During the outbreak of respiratory infections in China, Britain and France were organizing a Chinese labor force. This will send more than 90,000 workers from northern China to southern Britain and France during the war.

"We sent the workers to logistical support and tried to bring the soldiers to the front," Humphreys explains.

❖ Traveling around Africa is too time consuming and expensive, so the UK decided to ship workers to Vancouver on the west coast of Canada, by train to Halifax on the east coast, and then to Europe.

The labor shortage was too serious. For example, on March 2, 1918, a boat carrying as many as 1899 Chinese workers departed from China's Weikai for Vancouver. However, at that time, recruitment of workers in the area was suspended due to the "pest" epidemic.

According to Humphreys, the trains that carried workers from Vancouver were quarantined because of the strong antipathy towards the Chinese in western Canada at the time. Chinese workers were trapped in a camp surrounded by barbed wire, and a special railway escort guarded them. Newspapers were prohibited from reporting their developments.

Approximately 3000 of the Chinese workers were quarantined. According to Humphreys, Canadian doctors often blamed their illness for their "lazy" disposition. “I had a very formal, racist view of the Chinese.”

　The doctors gave castor oil to the worker who complained of a sore throat and brought him back to the camp.

Chinese workers began arriving in the south of England in January 1918 and were sent to France from there. Chinese hospitals in Neuer-sur-Mer in northern France have recorded hundreds of deaths due to respiratory illness.

Historians suspect that the Spanish common cold virus was mutated in the spring of 1918 to become more deadly and spread from Europe to distant port cities such as Boston in the United States and Freetown in Sierra Leone. ..

On the other hand, in the fall of the year when the pandemic peaked, such cases were no longer reported among Chinese workers in Europe.

■ What history tells

Mr. Humphreys himself acknowledged that this study did not give the final answer to the mystery of the origin of the Spanish cold.

"It is necessary for medical professionals to examine the virus at the time, which was stored in the buried body," he said. "There is a lot of potential for a settlement."

Experts such as Jeffrey Taubenberger of the US Army Institute of Pathology are looking for buried bodies all over the world in search of a sample of the virus stored in the body of a Spanish cold victim.

In 2011, his research team obtained influenza virus samples from the bodies of 32 people who died of a Spanish cold in 1918.

The earliest sample found so far belongs to a soldier who died in Camp Dodge, Iowa on March 11, 1918, but the research team is looking for an earlier case.

If we can collect a wide range of samples from victims before and after the pandemic, we can narrow down the origin of the Spanish cold. To do this, H1N1 influenza virus samples must be taken from victims who died before the spring of the pandemic in 1918.

For example, it would be ideal if we could obtain a 1917 Chinese sample.

Despite that, Taubenberger said he was uncertain about the origin of the slightly smaller pandemic of 2009, saying, "I'm not sure it's the final answer to this question."

In addition, Humphreys' paper also states, "This kind of (historical) analysis does not provide definitive evidence for the origin or pattern of spread of emerging infectious diseases, especially in the early stages of the epidemic." To say.

However, if the origin is known, there is a possibility that we can get information that will help prevent future pandemics, so it is worth exploring.

"The lesson from these studies is that we should "focus on China" as to where the emerging infectious diseases are," said Higgins, who said that bird flu and SARS (severe acute respiratory syndrome) have entered this century. He pointed out the point that came out of Asia when Humphreys' paper was published.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), SARS killed 775 people during the 2003 epidemic, and bird flu A (H5N1) type has killed 384 people since 2003. They have been watching closely for signs of a pandemic.

"In the last few decades, many emerging infectious diseases have spread worldwide," Higgins said.

"History repeats. Exploring the origins of the Spanish Cold in 1918 should give us a clue to prevent such calamities."

[mundaneapocalypse]

Guess what!

One person contracted smallpox a while ago and showed the sores in his mouth today. Others have colds, flues, stomach bugs, or the initial stages of smallpox.

I think the descriptions below match Roanoke and Halidom descriptions of smallpox. They might be the kinds found in both places. However, there might be more in Roanoke because non-wights contract it and in Halidom, insects and animals did not appear to spread smallpox, though they can spread some of the other poxes. In Elfhame, many doctors thought Fae with animalistic traits could not contract it, but Erik says they had plenty of evidence to the contrary, but it took werewolves dying by the thousands in the 1990s for the doctors to agree. Some doctors said it was possible and others said it was something else, or they had quite a bit of wight genes.

Seriously, Erik’s earliest memories involve his family dying of smallpox. Though he understands the science, he doesn’t know how he survived and his siblings didn’t. It seems random.

With all forms of smallpox, initial symptoms resemble a cold or a stomach bug, but when the spots and rash form on the mucus membranes, which are easily visible in your mouth, it could be smallpox. Then the spots form sores and nearly any Roanoke woman can identify smallpox at that stage, but determining the type of smallpox can be difficult at first. The sores are quite different from cold sores, tonsillitis, and the like. Early diagnosis of the type can improve the chance of survival.

With common/moderate smallpox, if there is any doubt it is smallpox, another six days will prove it. The sores are papules, which turn into pustules and leak fluids all over. The pustules have dents in the middle. The sores begin in the mouth and within a few days, the entire body has pustules, because the infection has entered the blood stream and traveled all over the body. They can form on eyes and people go blind. The patient is most infectious during the pustule stage. However, the scabs are also infectious, and they form after the pustules dry up and deflate. When the scabs fall off and the person bathes, he is no longer infectious. Picking off scabs might increase the chances of infecting somebody else.

In Roanoke, if treated at home, smallpox averages a 30% mortality rate. With regular in-home professional medical attention at home, the mortality rate can be between 20% and 30%. In hospital, the mortality hovers around 15-25% depending on available treatments and hospital staff.

Oh, and the vaccination has a .5-2% chance of infecting the person with smallpox. Approximately 1% would be the mildest form. Vaccination to the ordinary type might protect people from hemorrhagic and septic types, allow a less serious infection, or it would be easier to treat.

The scabs might peel off in sheets. The scabs can join together and peel off in the shape of the person’s hand or nose or something, which generally happens in a severe infection. A patient requires a longer recovery time and has a slightly higher chance of death. This is severe smallpox.

In rare instances, a vaccinated person can contract a mild form with a quick-developing, superficial rash and low to no fever, and afterwards, the person is immune to smallpox (mild smallpox). Another rare form of smallpox can cause hemorrhage (hemorrhagic smallpox). The third rare form of smallpox has unraised pustules, the pre-sore stage lasts days longer, the smallpox causes a high fever, and blood poisoning can set in, and it takes much longer to recover from the pustules, and it is often fatal.

In Halidom, smallpox existed and was eradicated in 1979, except for a couple vials in a secret lab. So, much of the Halidom population has absolutely no immunity to smallpox.

In Roanoke, smallpox exists, and there was a major outbreak in the 1990s. I’m not sure if they are the same strains. I do know one strain particularly affects werewolves, and Erik was innoculated for it, along with several of his siblings, and some of his siblings and his father died from the vaccination and from contracting smallpox. Some Shelter inhabitants have smallpox scars.

In both worlds, no cure exists, though doctors can treat symptoms and antivirals might help some people. Smallpox is deadly. Mrs. Duffy says death rates decreased steadily through the 21st century in Roanoke, possibly from treating symptoms and supporting the patient with IV fluids and the surviving mothers passing on antibodies to their children. If the second, the deadliness would have decreased through history, but it is difficult to determine when many other factors such as failed crops affect health.

Smallpox needs about 7-19 days to incubate, but it can affect groups of people who touched anything that touches an infected person. In the 1990s, firemen burned down entire villages to control infection, cremation was mandatory and undertakers could forcibly use pottery kilns and charcoal burners, slave labor scrubbed streets perfectly clean and they would be hung as soon as they showed symptoms, the Army blockaded the highways and would hang any travelers, the police arrested and hung anybody traveling outside the designated time and place, the rich quarantined themselves to prevent infection, and people suspected of spreading smallpox can receive mob justice and hopefully no legal repercussions.

Erik’s mother tied him and his sisters in a separate room to keep them from touching each other in case they contracted smallpox from the vaccinations, which is an extreme example and he says it might have been child abuse. He was successfully vaccinated and had no ill effects. His wife, Ida, contracted it and survived.

Mr. Symmes lost twenty-two children and one wife to smallpox since the 16th century. He remembers Halidom Native Americans dying by the thousands from smallpox and is extremely worried the same thing would happen again to everybody in Halidom now. Some of us have immunity, and we don’t know how long it would take for our inherited immune systems to forget about smallpox. He contracted it, survived, and says it was the worst illnesses he had. Because he has a different body, nobody knows if he might contract it again.

You can contract smallpox from washing a cup a person with open sores or scabs, or who does not show the sores yet but is infected, drank from. You might get sick from touching the washwater. Pregnant women can transmit smallpox to their unborn children. Smallpox can live in scabs for up to twenty years under the best conditions, but generally less than two years. Obviously, touching an infected person directly will infect you. On the bright side, you can only have it once, then you are immune. Unless you have a new body, maybe. Children and pregnant women are extremely vulnerable, while adult men tend to survive.

Mark and I quarantined our homestead from the Shelter for one month since the last scabs on the last patient fall off.

The Shelter has had illnesses before, including scarlet fever and tuberculosis, but since the only Humans the inhabitants regularly interact with include Mark, Madison, and me, and we had vaccines, it was fine. Madison received adult vaccines. Mark got booster shots because sometimes in his orphanage, they received expired vaccines or half-effective ones. With Marmalade, we don’t want to kill her and she has no vaccines. She legitimately might die from them--she is part feline and part wight and it can complicate Elfhame vaccines anyway, and if she has a bad reaction to them, the hospitals might not be able to treat her. Halidom vaccines are way too dangerous for her. The Shelter does not have enough vaccines for everybody and she has a lower chance of catching a severe illness than the other kids. Being preemies, Lad, Lassie, and Half-Pint were very vulnerable to infection (Half-Pint still is; I will fight you if you try to hug and kiss on her; I have a pocket knife and a gun and I’m not afraid to use them). Theoretically, they were closer to Humans than Marmalade was, and possibly, diseases that affect wights are the same strains that affect Humans. They could have died anyway. Their chances of contracting historical diseases was pretty slim (except for measles, apparently), but they were weak enough they probably would die if infected, so they were vaccinated.

But not to smallpox, because the CDC and WHO had to save millions of Humans from dying of one of the worst illnesses in history, and now, babies aren’t vaccinated because the vials are in high-security labs where only somebody bent on a pandemic could access them, and if somebody could, smallpox might be low on the list of bothers. The CDC and Who probably didn’t know Elfhame existed, and it is extremely difficult to vaccinate Fae.

Or smallpox could spread if a Human interacts with an infected Fae, contracts it, and accidentally spreads it through spit before showing symptoms. If we did contract it, we would have to burn down the homestead to prevent spreading the infection. Remember the Velveteen Rabbit? Like that, except it might cause a forest fire and alarm the fire department. Somebody would probably die, and it would probably be the kids.

Also, “smallpox” isn’t a rational reason to stop going to church or work. I can get away with it, but Mark can’t. We don’t know what to tell our bosses yet, and we don’t want to be a root of a pandemic. For one thing, millions of people would die. For another thing, and, please remember I’m not an ambassador and I’m just using common sense and basic decency here, spreading germs isn’t a polite way to reintroduce massive cultural groups to each other. It will happen, but ideally, some strain of strep throat or something relatively easy to recover from.

Because the vaccine can cause smallpox and it could easily spread to Halidom, and the citizens have limited contact with Roanoke and most supplies come from Halidom, the Shelter does not allow smallpox vaccinations. It might have been a bad idea and vaccinations will begin as soon as possible. We are already screwed, but maybe we can lessen the spread.

If several soldiers show signs of smallpox over the next 2-3 days, it probably came from the Army--maybe in supplies, transfers, or being in Roanoke long enough to contract it and return, such as from an inn or pub. If the Shelter citizens show signs of smallpox over the next 2-3 days, it probably came from them--maybe from markets, family members, or pubs. It might have been from the prisoners. We don’t know much about their diseases, burning their bodies was easier than burying them, medical records were terrible, the prisoners killed the guards, and probably, any prisoner who had smallpox while a prisoner died, and the others would be infected because of awful living conditions and weakened bodies, and it would be noticeable. They escaped long enough ago if they had smallpox, we almost definitely would know by now. The Roanoke Army and the Shelter citizens rarely interact, and they might not infect each other. However, with the flooding, both of them live in less than hygienic conditions.

Smallpox and the infection risk are bad enough the persons might be hung. If they are dead and burned, they can’t infect anybody. Anything of theirs or anything that touched them would be burned. Anybody they came into contact with would be quarantined. In the meantime, the others will deep clean everything, and the persons are quarantined.

It can be difficult to diagnose smallpox without fluids from a sore. Growing a sample takes long enough the sores will form. If the sores and pustules are the most infectious stages, killing an infected person before it reaches that stage will prevent infection.

We can burn and clean anything non-living with no problems except whether or not slaves should respond to a disease like that. Quarantine is a problem because the people can’t fend for themselves.

So who wants to guess if the sick persons without the sores have colds, flues, stomach bugs, or smallpox and have whoever might have smallpox hung? Who wants to hang a man, woman, child, or baby because of fever, muscle pain, malaise, headache, prostration, nausea, and vomiting? Who wants to hang  pregnant woman when there is no way to tell if the baby has smallpox without puncturing the amniotic sac and possibly causing a miscarriage? Who wants to test everybody’s blood and hang everybody who carries a smallpox virus and might not have spread it to anybody else? Who wants to hang a person with a 70% survival chance who might not spread it to anybody else?