Influenza sprung from the swamps of the ancient Aztec capital. Sweeping aside medical screens the virus sneaks inside future human corpses from the ponds of the temple to the far corners of Earth. Carried on the comfortable wings of Airbus and Boeing birds the tiny creatures penetrate all boundaries. Undertakers turn on the crematoria furnaces with grim faces and smiling hearts. Hail the coming contagion.
Contagion rules billions of quivering mutant primates accustomed to a cushion between their world and the real. They wait in constructions. Hiding eyes. Pleading to dying ears, “I'm not sick! I'm not sick.”
Underlining this lies the consummate insult. If contagion rises in Asia, it is called Hong Kong, Shanghai or Beijing Flu. Now, it rises in the nation of Mexico and called Swine Flu.
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