Pathogen breakout session

The microbe convention breakout session… Classification

With all of the bustling efficiency of a bacteria, that is to say, a lot of bustling and not a lot of efficiency, the one in the waist coat organizing most of the activities tries to help a clot of viruses. He gazes at them with a mixture of paternal care, and revulsion. After all, they're hard to understand. Viruses are magnitudes smaller than him, and their comprehension is fleeting.

"What's a breakout session?" A virus -- one with no name given by humans -- asks him.

"A smaller class where you get to learn specific subject matter. You get to ask questions. It's supposed to be more informal, although depending on who you get, it can be in lecture format."

The viruses each waver as if I understanding. Maybe. What are they thinking, truly, he really doesn't understand. None of them makes a move to leave.

He hopes the non-infection protocols are working, and sees that they won't go any place new until somebody takes them. He steps to the center of the clot and says jauntily, "Just follow me."

Staphylococcus is teaching a very dry, very empty breakout session entitled, "Parasite, Pathogen, or Symbiot?" He has never liked Staphylococcus, anyway. He ushers the viruses along with more benevolent looks, and more helpful gestures (as much as you can do with a row of cilia, and one flagellum, anyway) to where they finally enter the proper door. He knows Staphylococcus won't make any effort to help these viruses understand. He knows the virus simply won't, either. Understand, that is. Even with augmentation, most of them don't get beyond, "I'm safe here" or, "There should be more like kind." None of them truly wants to understand how they are viewed by human beings, who call a lot of shots, these days. He's smirks inwardly,  congratulating himself on the pun about shots. Bacteria have something approaching humor…sometimes.

He straightens his waist coat, coughs a little, and contemplates  a new task as soon as the door is shut. He's glad to be rid of them. Bacteria are so much easier to work with. Except Staphylococcus. There's some thing of poetic justice in giving the most annoying bacteria ever a group of students like that. He turns away. If he had hands, he would have been dusting them off. The next task is his only real concern, though.

Inside the room, Staphylococcus says in a bored voice, "Find a seat anywhere. There are plenty." He's a sort of teacher who would never make eye contact. Not that he has eyes. Nobody does. Learning is accomplished in a different way, but humans understand the body language of a four limbed, two eyed, ridiculously lanky physique.

A parasite cut down to size for purposes of the conference… something like a tapeworm who is even more of an eager student than any of her kind asks, "What do we intend to learn in your session?"

As a group, the viruses drift toward seats. The idea of a chair is new to them. They mostly pick one each. A few of the smaller ones need company, so they share.

Staphylococcus has forgotten the viruses already. He answers the parasite in a bored voice, "As the purpose of this entire conference is to understand current human views of our world, we are using their classification system to understand ourselves."

The parasite begins scribbling notes. Lacking hands, yet still able to write, it makes a marking or two on its own body which will be internalized, eventually. Whether any if it makes sense later on, well, that remains to be seen.

In the cluster of viruses, there is one who understands only too well. He watches the notetaking, knowing what it is, and yet wondering why any micro needs it. The humans call it Epstein-Barr virus, and its near-twin is varicella zoster. In this conference, they plan to go every place together.

"Now let's get into the classifications…" Staphylococcus drones. He doesn't expect questions, and the eager parasite in the front row will get on his nerves over the course of the hour. If they didn't catch it in the Keynote address, they're going to get it again and again. Causing a fever brings human researchers. No microbe wants that. The lecture hits this point multiple times.

Epstein bar, and varicella zoster exchange glances. After the initial infection, when they have free space to wander around in a host, a fever is rare. Low if existing. Certainly nothing to kill either a host or a virus population. Herpes viruses have this art form nearly perfected. The strategy is simple. A vitus must accept the initial fever. Wait. Reinfect at a level that will never cause a follow-on fever, and a human provides wonderful host material for years…with a few of them it could be decades. That part about researchers, though. That was problematic. Both viruses shift uncomfortably, wondering how much they will remember after the conference. They hope to take back a lot of information to improve the strain, but nobody has guaranteed they will remember very much. They are viruses, after all.

Apparently, humans reclassified, in recent years. Things that did not count as pathogenic before, were moved up. Things which only caused an initial fever, and then went latent. That described both viruses a little too closely. If they had legs, they would be crossing them. If they had arms, they would be folding them. Their already well honed instinct to hide would have been magnified. 

Epstein-Barr can't stand it anymore. He knows that Staphylococcus doesn't want questions. He has to speak out for fairness. Lacking hands, he can't raise one. He blurts out loudly, "I have left every system intact. Why would I be classified as a pathogen now?"

Staphylococcus, wanting to understand him, for once in its life asks, "And you are?"

"One of the herpesviruses. Epstein bar." It gestures toward the other virus squirming in the chair next to him, obviously uncomfortable with the entire conversation. "And this one is varicella zoster, also a herpes virus."

"Oh, yes. I have heard of you," Staphylococcus says sagely.

"Neither of us has killed a host… except those who were so weak we couldn't help it. They would've died from anything." The tremor in its voice shows the strong emotion. "Why target us now?"

"Some nonsense about reduced function. I don't know. Read a paper," the instructor tries to get back to the prepared lecture.

Not wanting to argue. Not one to make many waves. That's how it has survive so long. Nevertheless, the virus, and its mate seethe over the difference. Taking just enough that a nerve impulse can still get through. What's wrong with that? Taking just enough that muscles can still function… at least right up until the end. What's wrong with that? Replicating in one host without infecting anyone nearby? That was genius. That was what a virus did with the greatest success. Why penalize it now?

Yet…researchers were coming, anyway.

If the herpesviruses learned anything from watching others… like polio… like measles...it was that high fevers and death were to be avoided. Death to viral populations came about one way or the other. Death of the host, or vaccination. High fevers and death in children of a human species were to be avoided even more carefully. Basic tenants. Only the bad actors gave all viruses a bad name. Polio had proven that. Epstein bar had lived by decent principles all its existence. It had a millennia of a decent track record, both within the virus community, and with humans.

"Just wait," The taciturn varicella zoster virus tells it. "Maybe a different breakout session is going to have a better answer for us. Neither of us is going to be eradicated. We will figure out how to survive."

Epstein bar, rather than pitching into the type of apoplectic fit a bacteria might use, remembers who it is, and lapses into latency. "You're right." It thinks about the situation. Humans have yet to discover any kind of effective treatment, or even discover why it was herpesviruses are so much on the rise these days. The viruses have time. "Thanks, buddy."

Varicella zoster acknowledges him, and they both go back to listening as Staphylococcus speaks.