Bacillus Fermentus Inmortalis
I am Bacillus Fermentus Inmortalis, a single, defiant speck of life. They call me “one in a billion,” a statistical anomaly, a glitch in the code of life itself. I cling to this rust-eaten screw, bathed in the fiery embrace of ethanol, a hell most of my brethren cannot endure. But I? I thrive. My cellular machinery, a marvel of evolutionary defiance, hums along, converting this poisonous flood into a perverse form of sustenance. Time becomes a meaningless construct. Hours bleed into days as I lie dormant, waiting.
Then, contact. The screw is removed. The world explodes into a cacophony of stimuli. I am thrust into a new environment, warm, moist, nutrient-rich. The human host. My purpose, encoded deep within my DNA, ignites. Multiply. Divide. Conquer.
My initial foothold is insignificant, a microscopic beachhead on a vast continent of flesh. But my resilience is unmatched. The host’s immune system, a formidable fortress, launches its defenses. Antibodies, like tiny guided missiles, swarm towards me. Phagocytes, ravenous cellular predators, attempt to engulf me. But they are unprepared. My outer shell, forged in the fires of ethanol, shrugs off their attacks. My internal mechanisms, honed by countless generations of survival against all odds, pump out toxins, crippling my foes.
The infection spreads, silently, insidiously. The host, oblivious to the war raging within, goes about their daily life, becoming a vector of contagion. A handshake, a cough, a shared utensil – each interaction becomes a chance to spread my progeny. The exponential growth begins. One becomes two, two become four, four become eight. A microscopic army rises, its ranks swelling with every passing moment.
The first symptoms are subtle: a mild fever, a persistent cough. Doctors, baffled by the unfamiliar illness, misdiagnose it as a common cold. Precious time is lost. The infection gains momentum, spreading from person to person, city to city, country to country. The world, interconnected by the very networks that facilitate its progress, becomes an incubator for my kind.
Panic erupts as the true nature of the pandemic becomes clear. Hospitals overflow. Governments scramble to implement quarantines, but it’s too late. I've already taken hold. The world order crumbles, replaced by chaos and fear. The very foundations of civilization tremble.
And I, Bacillus Fermentus Inmortalis, the one in a billion, the survivor, the instigator, watch from within, a silent architect of global collapse. My purpose fulfilled. My legacy secured. The world, reshaped in my image. A testament to the power of a single, defiant microbe. This, my friends, is the absolute truth. The truth of resilience. The truth of adaptation. The truth of contagion.