"That should pay for not just the first night, but also the second."
"Will it?" I smile gratefully. "I never know. Some places gold is more plentiful than copper, but owning two wells makes you close to a lord." I'd even seen a village in the swamps some years ago where malaria was so ubiquitous an entire economy had sprung up around the cinchona tree, from which various cures could be derived.
A truly fascinating place, and a tragic exercise in human futility. The disease could not be eliminated for as long as they continued to live in the infested region, since they were a vital part of the life cycle of the parasite and its carrier. If they were removed from the infected region, or if they all succumbed, the disease could be eliminated in short order.
It was simple mathematics, but even I have to admit, there was a certain tragic poetry to it. The parasite who cannot survive without the host, the host who struggles to survive even knowing that his success means not a hope of a cure, but the affliction of all future generations...
I did collect the seeds the night I burned the trees. One day they will need to be replanted.
"As for permanent arrangements, a friend of my wife owns a little apartment building - I can give you her details if you like."
"I'd be most grateful, sir." He gathers the keys and asks for my signature. I sign my name in precise, angular strokes. It has never been my way to assume another name. I put on so many faces for so many people that a name is just about the only continuity I can grasp. Without it I might well evaporate.
I catch movement from around the corner, a wan face and childlike voice, though I'm not sure I caught all the words... "Burning?" My eyebrows raise in alarm, but by then the face is withdrawn.
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Date: 2012-01-18 04:33 pm (UTC)"Will it?" I smile gratefully. "I never know. Some places gold is more plentiful than copper, but owning two wells makes you close to a lord." I'd even seen a village in the swamps some years ago where malaria was so ubiquitous an entire economy had sprung up around the cinchona tree, from which various cures could be derived.
A truly fascinating place, and a tragic exercise in human futility. The disease could not be eliminated for as long as they continued to live in the infested region, since they were a vital part of the life cycle of the parasite and its carrier. If they were removed from the infected region, or if they all succumbed, the disease could be eliminated in short order.
It was simple mathematics, but even I have to admit, there was a certain tragic poetry to it. The parasite who cannot survive without the host, the host who struggles to survive even knowing that his success means not a hope of a cure, but the affliction of all future generations...
I did collect the seeds the night I burned the trees. One day they will need to be replanted.
"As for permanent arrangements, a friend of my wife owns a little apartment building - I can give you her details if you like."
"I'd be most grateful, sir." He gathers the keys and asks for my signature. I sign my name in precise, angular strokes. It has never been my way to assume another name. I put on so many faces for so many people that a name is just about the only continuity I can grasp. Without it I might well evaporate.
I catch movement from around the corner, a wan face and childlike voice, though I'm not sure I caught all the words... "Burning?" My eyebrows raise in alarm, but by then the face is withdrawn.