A short history of nearly everything - Bill Bryson [157]
Since then further research has shown that there is or may well be a bacterial component in all kinds of other disorders—heart disease, asthma, arthritis, multiple sclerosis, several types of mental disorders, many cancers, even, it has been suggested (in Science no less), obesity. The day may not be far off when we desperately require an effective antibiotic and haven't got one to call on.
It may come as a slight comfort to know that bacteria can themselves get sick. They are sometimes infected by bacteriophages (or simply phages), a type of virus. A virus is a strange and unlovely entity—“a piece of nucleic acid surrounded by bad news” in the memorable phrase of the Nobel laureate Peter Medawar. Smaller and simpler than bacteria, viruses aren't themselves alive. In isolation they are inert and harmless. But introduce them into a suitable host and they burst into busyness—into life. About five thousand types of virus are known, and between them they afflict us with many hundreds of diseases, ranging from the flu and common cold to those that are most invidious to human well-being: smallpox, rabies, yellow fever, ebola, polio, and the human immunodeficiency virus, the source of AIDS.
Viruses prosper by hijacking the genetic material of a living cell and using it to produce more virus. They reproduce in a fanatical manner, then burst out in search of more cells to invade. Not being living organisms themselves, they can afford to be very simple. Many, including HIV, have ten genes or fewer, whereas even the simplest bacteria require several thousand. They are also very tiny, much too small to be seen with a conventional microscope. It wasn't until 1943 and the invention of the electron microscope that science got its first look at them. But they can do immense damage. Smallpox in the twentieth century alone killed an estimated 300 million people.
They also have an unnerving capacity to burst upon the world in some new and startling form and then to vanish again as quickly as they came. In 1916, in one such case, people in Europe and America began to come down with a strange sleeping sickness, which became known as encephalitis lethargica. Victims would go to sleep and not wake up. They could be roused without great difficulty to take food or go to the lavatory, and would answer questions sensibly—they knew who and where they were—though their manner was always apathetic.
However, the moment they were permitted to rest, they would sink at once back into deepest slumber and remain in that state for as long as they were left. Some went on in this manner for months before dying. A very few survived and regained consciousness but not their former liveliness. They existed in a state of profound apathy, “like extinct volcanoes,” in the words of one doctor. In ten years the disease killed some five million people and then quietly went away. It didn't get much lasting attention because in the meantime an even worse epidemic—indeed, the worst in history—swept across the world.
It is sometimes called the Great Swine Flu epidemic and sometimes the Great Spanish Flu epidemic, but in either case it was ferocious. World War I killed twenty-one million people in four years; swine flu did the same in its first four months. Almost 80 percent of American casualties in the First World War came not from enemy fire, but from flu. In some units the mortality rate was as high as 80 percent.
Swine flu arose as a normal, nonlethal flu in the spring of 1918, but somehow over the following months—no one knows how or where—it mutated into something more severe. A fifth of victims suffered only mild symptoms, but