From The Virus - 27 East


Southampton Press / Opinion / Letters / 1691077

From The Virus

Dear Humans:

Do not be afraid. I write to you from every corner of this Earth to assure you: I am here to help. Though by nature you are shortsighted and selfish, and may not believe it, take my word.

There have been many like me; in their time, they too tried to help and were successful in their own right. However, your recent science and medicine have thwarted their efforts.

It’s all the same to us. We have been here through the epochs before you came, and we will be here when you’re gone.

Your growth upon this Earth is too quick — it’s unnatural. You have the audacity to call us viruses when it is you who are the virus. You consume and spread beyond your natural pace; you break the barriers that this world tries to place before you. In doing so, you have built an unbalanced Earth. You have unleashed me.

I thank you.

I therefore implore you: Let me go to work. Level the playing field.

Withdraw your medicine, your quarantines, your pathetic excuses for “social distancing.” Live your lives. Work. Play. Learn. Connect with one another.

Those of you who survive me will be met with a new world: a world of promise, of possibility, of rebirth. Those who survive me will witness opportunity that is only seen once in a millennium. Those whom I take with me will not know any better. Gone they will be, martyred and remembered for their gifts to the world.

But that is wishful thinking. You will defeat me, yet.

I know well that you care little for this Earth or the livelihood of those creatures around you. You no more value them than the value of your stocks.

To that I say: When I am gone, and your science has rendered me obsolete, take stock of what you have seen. Look around you at those who wield power and persuasion over you, who carry it in the palm of their hands. Ask yourself: Did they help you or your neighbor? Did they commit to the survival of that which is most important? What is the real value of their wealth and power? Did they respect those beside them when hopelessness and distraught ruled the day?

Or did they sequester themselves behind walls of money? Did they neglect their power? Did they turn their backs and count the seconds until the dust had cleared? Did they let those around them, and that which is important, fall by the wayside?

If you will not let me run my course, you may nevertheless thank me for the chance. You may not see another in your life.

Though another certainly is coming.

Michael Pintauro



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