Pandemic
BY J. F. BONE
Generally, human beings don’t do totally useless things consistently and widely. So—maybe there is something to it—
“We call it Thurston’s Disease for two perfectly good reasons,” Dr. Walter Kramer said. “He discovered it—and he was the first to die of it.” The doctor fumbled fruitlessly through the pockets of his lab coat. “Now where the devil did I put those matches?”
“Are these what you’re looking for?” the trim blonde in the gray seersucker uniform asked. She picked a small box of wooden safety matches from the littered lab table beside her and handed them to him.
“Ah,” Kramer said. “Thanks. Things have a habit of getting lost around here.”
“I can believe that,” she said as she eyed the frenzied disorder around her. Her boss wasn’t much better than his labo
