the difference between being in a plague and just being human

An incident happened in C's mini today. S started to scratch her arms, suspicious of bug or mosquito invasion. One of a few things could be true. S could have gotten the bites before she went into the car, she could have gotten it in the car, or she could have gotten it ages ago but did not notice until she was in the car. But in any case, sitting next to her I saw the reaction of S, and I, having experienced itchiness before, started to feel, or maybe not, something. When C asked if anyone felt their eyes itchy, I immediately responded. Subconsciously I was already suspecting being the victim of a certain infection that was originated in the mini.

These may well all be true, but on the other hand, it may well all be psychological. People do throw up when they see other people throw up, people do get turn on when they watch porn (watch the action, feel the itch), similarly, other things like advertising, or market reactions, all work on similar patterns.

This is called being human.

Think about the alternative, what if there is indeed some sort of infection in C's mini and we are all, with different symptoms, infected. S's reaction is a healthy alarm that warns all three of us the danger, encouraging us to seek for solution, e.g. in the form of medical assistance. But having lived 20 odd years we all tend to not make a fuss about small things like these, so we bear with it, we tell our minds that it's just psychological and chemicals are generated to block our bodies' reception to the itchy signals. But the fact is that we are all infected, possibly with something serious.

The next day, when I and C feel the itch on our arms when we wake up and start scratching, we both tell ourselves that it was probably the pancakes that we ate the night before, or still, lingering psychological effects from yesterday's experience.

And then the itchiness disappeared. And without thinking about it, we all travel in the same mini again. and again. and again.

Until one day I died. Suddenly. Allegedly without warning.
The doctors were confused. There was no diagnosis, not yet. But in the mind of C and S they both well know what the hell is going on and they panicked, really really, panicked.

Some people say we have already seen the worst of the financial crisis. That is like saying that, in this little shitty story of mine, we've seen the worst after I died.


And of course, there is also the possibility that C's itchy eyes, S's itchy arms, and my death, are mutually unrelated events. What the doctors can do, as a result, are, at the best, guess work.

Good luck with our banks.