Mystery Pneumonia (4): The CDC Arrives
Here in downtown Palo Alto, Rizelrote sat by the window overlooking the entire city, eating her breakfast. It was a penthouse in the heart of Palo Alto, in a high-rise owned by Baisman. Of course, they weren't the type to plaster their name in huge letters on the front of the building like some people.
A bit of a silly headline. There were plenty of doctors in Palo Alto, but few who made regular headlines with that kind of buzz. Maybe I should give him a call. Rizelrote glanced at the local paper and smiled faintly. I have a pretty good idea who it is. It's been a while—maybe invite him out for a meal?
Finally, a breakthrough. Dean Rich sat in his office, stubbed out his cigar. That resident. I told him to solve it, and he did it in just a few days. 'I'll do it...?' What? He said he couldn't, but when I ordered him, he got it done. We need to get him into the PhD program fast. Writing quarterly papers? Piece of cake for him. Bringing in that triumphant discovery of a new bacterium was something else. I'm too tired to even be surprised anymore. The dean was skimming the draft paper on that new bacterium.
It had to be right, coming from that Asian doctor. It always was. An unimaginable hypothesis. Something no doctor in California had considered. Even Rich, a veteran physician, had been debating whether it was infectious or environmental pneumonia. And that resident had isolated a brand-new bacterium in mere days.
The ash on the dean's ashtray smoldered slowly, exhaling faint smoke before dying out. And get this—it was both. Absurdly enough.
'Air conditioning,' was it? Infectious pneumonia that was also environmental. Not entirely wrong. How far ahead was he seeing? It gave me chills. The silver lining: the dozens of patients hospitalized with this pneumonia were recovering relatively well. Thanks to establishing treatment early. Otherwise, we'd have seen deaths like at other hospitals. The thought made my stomach turn. It was all thanks to that resident.
I suited up in protective gear and reentered the pneumonia isolation ward. To inform the patient I'd seen before that we'd found the treatment.
"Hello, sir."
"You're that Asian doctor, right? Good work."
Straight to it the moment our eyes met.
"Thank you." I nodded. The patient looked much better. His chart had shown him on death's door at admission.
"Thought I was a goner. Every dawn, I'd feel like I was dying, but an angel kept shaking me awake. 'Not yet—open your eyes.'
Probably the fever. Nurses came in at dawn to wake him and give antipyretics. Some patients don't remember those half-asleep moments. There's that urban legend about hospitals: around 4 a.m., someone stares at you from the hallway. Truth is, that's just routine checks.
"How's your body feeling?"
"Better, thanks to you... When can I go home? Gotta see the grandkids before I end up flat on my back again."
"Soon, very soon."
"It doesn't spread, right?"
"No, sir. Straight home."
The old man sighed in relief.
"They say this is a brand-new disease... Something never seen before."
"That's right."
"Other nurses said you figured out what bacterium it was and the treatment..."
"Yes."
I nodded. The patient struggled to sit up in bed and let out another sigh.
"Thanks to you, I might make it home. See the grandkids, maybe even write a will." He offered a handshake. He didn't look like someone on the verge of death, even after being sick. Probably unnecessary worry. I took the old man's hand.
"Focus on recovery after discharge."
"Yeah, I will."
The old man smiled kindly and gazed at the distant mountains, as if he'd gained some profound insight.
The pneumonia isolation ward I'd helped set up days ago was emptying fast. With the right antibiotics, most patients were improving. Pneumonia usually takes a week to two—right on schedule. Plus, we'd identified the bacterium and mechanism. Now, pinpointing the outbreak source would be ideal.
I was mulling this in the internal medicine lounge when—
Knock knock.
"Come in."
Four people in black suits and black ties entered. Who were they? Feds?
One in a black suit offered a handshake. UFO crash nearby? Or did they figure out I'm from the future? Silly thoughts.
"Hello. We were told we'd find Dr. Parks here. Are you him?"
"Not a doctor yet. But Parks, yes."
"U.S. Centers for Disease Control Epidemic Intelligence Service, Dr. Kessler. Pleased to meet you."
Dr. Kessler flashed his badge. I squinted. Epidemic Intelligence Service? Didn't know that existed.
He pocketed the badge. I scratched my head.
"An agency like that?"
"Yes. We got a report of a new infectious disease at Stanford Hospital."
"Ah, that."
Phew, not aliens or spies. For a second, I thought—America, after all.
The federal agents continued.
"Dean Rich said you identified the disease and transmission route. We'd appreciate an explanation."
"Sure."
Dr. Kessler sighed in relief. They came straight for me? Well, at Stanford, I'm the only one briefing-level informed on this—besides me.
"It's a type of pneumonia never reported before. We're taking samples to the CDC lab for study."
"Got it."
As expected. To prevent future outbreaks, trace the source. No surprise the feds were interested. New plague? Need the cure.
Now in the hospital seminar room. I stood at the whiteboard with a marker. The feds watched intently. No prep, but I'd studied this a hundred times.
I cleared my throat and began.
"Legionella... This new bacterium parasitizes freshwater amoebas in the wild."
Right—Legionella wasn't named yet in this era. The agents scribbled furiously. Dr. Kessler eyed me.
"Amoebas?"
"Yes. California patients likely infected at facilities with contaminated water. Hotels, probably."
"I see..."
"We're checking hotels patients visited. Source unknown, but something aerosolizing water droplets—central AC, lobby fountains."
Legionella emerged in the '70s with widespread system AC. Usually from AC. Pre-AC era, no big outbreaks.
The agents nodded.
"Thank you so much."
I waited for questions, but no pushback—just acceptance.
No one challenging me? 'Does that even make sense?' Echoes of skeptical professors.
Funny. Is the world outside university hospitals like this?
"Prevent microbial growth in public indoor water sources producing aerosols, and use proper Legionella antibiotics in hospitals—that should suffice."
Dr. Kessler raised a hand.
"What antibiotic?"
"Intracellular ones. Doxycycline, azithromycin—easy cure."
"Noted."
"Full recovery in a week. Longer for immunocompromised."
The suits and Dr. Kessler closed notebooks, sighing. He skimmed the Legionella draft I'd given the dean.
"Thought it'd take months, maybe a year. Never imagined it'd be solved on report. You isolated dust cells for observation?"
"Yes."
"Ah... Never crossed my mind. Without you, who knows how many would've died pointlessly."
Not just one or two, that's for sure.