Page 31 of Outbreak Protocol
"Erik, I need you to see something," she says, then notices our proximity and smiles knowingly. "Unless you're busy with very important epidemiological discussions."
"We're working," I reply, but my hand doesn't move from Felix's.
"Of course you are." Sarah sets coffee cups before us. "Aleksandr told me you two have developed impressive professional synchronization. Finishes each other's sentences during briefings, anticipates research needs, operates like medical partnership."
Felix accepts his coffee gratefully. "We've found compatible working styles."
Sarah's Irish accent makes everything sound like gentle teasing. "So, is it true what Aleksandr says? That you two have developed your own language consisting entirely of shared glances and half-finished sentences?"
I feel heat creep up my neck. "We're working efficiently under pressure."
"Right. 'Efficiency.'" Sarah winks. "Which is lovely, actually. You're both more effective when you're together."
She's right, though I won't admit it. Felix's presence has made me a better epidemiologist, more attuned to human costs behind statistical projections. His emotional intelligence complements my analytical approach, creating more complete understanding of outbreak implications.
"What did you discover?" Felix asks, smoothly redirecting conversation.
Sarah spreads new lab results across the table. "Viral sequencing shows something extraordinary. The pathogen isn't just mutating—it's incorporating genetic material from infected hosts."
I study the data, immediately grasping implications. "Adaptive evolution in real-time."
"Exactly. Each generation becomes more efficient atexploiting human physiology. It's learning from every host, optimizing transmission and pathogenicity simultaneously."
Felix leans forward, reviewing clinical correlations. "That explains why second-wave patients show different symptom profiles. The virus is customizing itself."
"Which means traditional containment models are worthless," I conclude. "We're not fighting static pathogen—we're fighting an evolving adversary that improves with each infection."
The three of us sit in sobering silence, contemplating implications. Traditional epidemiological approaches assume consistent pathogen behaviour. If the virus continuously adapts, our models become obsolete before we can implement interventions.
"How do we fight something that learns faster than we can study it?" Felix asks.
"We learn faster too," Sarah says firmly. "Combine real-time genetic analysis with immediate clinical feedback. Update models continuously instead of relying on historical patterns."
I'm already pulling up new analytical frameworks, mind racing through adaptive modelling possibilities. "We'll need parallel processing—simultaneous genetic sequencing, clinical monitoring, and epidemiological projection."
"Can the hospital systems handle that computational load?" Felix asks.
"If we optimize data streams and prioritize critical variables." My fingers fly across keyboard, sketching preliminary algorithms. "But we'll need the team working around the clock."
"Already am," Yuki says from the doorway. Dark circles shadow her eyes, but her voice remains steady. "I've been monitoring data flows since yesterday. Can implement adaptive modelling within six hours."
"You need sleep," Felix says with medical authority.
"Sleep when people stop dying." Yuki moves to her usual workstation, immediately absorbed in complex calculations. Herquiet dedication anchors our efforts, providing stability when everything else shifts constantly.
Aleksandr appears next, carrying steaming bowls that smell like salvation. As he sets down the bowls, he points a spoon first at Sarah, then Yuki. "You two. Eat. Your brains are our most important equipment, and they run on calories, not just coffee and rage. Erik, make sure they eat."
His pragmatic command, delivered with military gruffness, is an undeniable act of care. We gather around the table, temporarily abandoning laptops for nourishment. The soup is surprisingly good—thick lentil with vegetables, comfort food that reminds me why meals matter beyond mere caloric intake.
"How are containment protocols progressing?" I ask Aleksandr.
"Military cooperation improving. Colonel Santos understands medical priorities better than initial commanders." Aleksandr's expression grows serious. "But quarantine zones are straining. Too many cases, not enough isolation facilities."
"Mortality projections?" Felix asks quietly.
I pull up Yuki's latest models, dreading the numbers even as I analyze them objectively. "Seventy-three percent case fatality rate. If transmission continues at current pace, Hamburg alone will see fifty thousand deaths within four days."
Felix sets down his spoon, appetite vanishing. "Fifty thousand people. Families, children, grandparents. Artists like Frau Kellner."
