Dooms Day Book

“How can he have a viral infection?” Gilchrist said, still glaring at Dunworthy. “I suppose Mr. Dunworthy didn’t bother to check for that either.”

“Badri’s an employee of the University,” Mary said. “He should have had the usual start-of-term physical and antivirals.”

“You don’t know?” Gilchrist said.

“The Registrar’s office is closed for Christmas,” she said. “I haven’t been able to reach the Registrar, and I can’t call up Badri’s files without his NHS number.”

“I’ve sent my secretary to our bursar’s office to see if we have hardcopies of the University’s files,” Dunworthy said. “We should at the least have his number.”

“Good,” Mary said. “We’ll be able to tell a good deal more about the sort of virus we’re dealing with when we know what antivirals Badri’s had and how recently. He may have a history of anomalous reactions, and there’s also a chance he’s missed a seasonal. Do you happen to know his religion, Mr. Dunworthy? Is he New Hindu?”

Dunworthy shook his head. “He’s Church of England,” he said, knowing what Mary was getting at. The New Hindus believed that all life was sacred, including killed viruses, if killed was the right word. They refused to have any inoculations or vaccines. The University gave them waivers on religious grounds but didn’t allow them to live in college. “Badri’s had his start-of-term clearance. He’d never have been allowed to work the net without it.”

Mary nodded as if she had already come to that conclusion. “As I said, this is very likely an anomaly.”

Gilchrist started to say something, but stopped when the door opened. The nurse who had been guarding the door came in, wearing a mask and gown and carrying pencils and a sheaf of papers in her imperm-gloved hands.

“As a precaution, we need to test those people who have been in contact with the patient for antibodies. We’ll need bloods and temps, and we need each of you to list all of your contacts and those of Mr. Chaudhuri.”

The nurse handed several sheets of paper and a pencil to Dunworthy. The top sheet was a hospital admissions form. The one underneath was headed “Primaries” and divided into columns marked “Name, location, time.” The bottom sheet was just the same except that it was headed “Secondaries.”

“Since Badri is our only case,” Mary said, “we are considering him the index case. We do not have a positive mode of transmission yet, so you must list anyone who’s had any contact with Badri, however momentary. Anyone he spoke to, touched, has had any contact with.”

Dunworthy had a sudden image of Badri leaning over Kivrin, adjusting her sleeve, moving her arm.

“Anyone at all who may have been exposed,” Mary said.

“Including all of us,” the medic said.

“Yes,” Mary said.

“And Kivrin,” Dunworthy said.

For a moment she looked like she had no idea at all who Kivrin was.

“Ms. Engle has had full-spectrum antivirals and T-cell enhancement,” Gilchrist said. “She would not be at risk, would she?”

Dr. Ahrens hesitated only a second. “No. She didn’t have any contact with Badri before this morning, did she?”

“Mr. Dunworthy only offered me the use of his tech two days ago,” Gilchrist said, practically snatching the papers and pencil the nurse was offering him out of her hands. “I, of course, assumed that Mr. Dunworthy had taken the same precautions with his techs which Mediaeval had. It has become apparent, however, that he didn’t, and you may be sure I will inform Basingame of your negligence, Mr. Dunworthy.”

“If Kivrin’s first contact with Badri was this morning, she was fully protected,” Mary said. “Mr. Gilchrist, if you’d be so good.” She indicated the chair, and he came and sat down.

Mary took one of the sets of papers from the nurse and held up the sheet marked “Primaries.” “Any person Badri had contact with is a primary contact. Any person you have had contact with is a secondary. On this sheet I would like you to list all contacts you have had with Badri Chaudhuri over the last three days, and any contacts of his that you know of. On this sheet,” she held up the sheet marked “Secondaries”, “list all your contacts with the time you had them. Begin with the present and work backward.”

She popped a temp into Gilchrist’s mouth, peeled a portable monitor off its paper strip, and stuck it on his wrist. The nurse passed the papers out to Latimer and the medic. Dunworthy sat down and began filling out his own.

The Infirmary form asked for his name, National Health Service number, and a complete medical history, which the NHS number could no doubt call up in better detail than he could remember it. Illnesses. Surgeries. Inoculations. If Mary didn’t have Badri’s NHS number that meant he was still unconscious.