Future generations, if there are any, will not understand how this could have happened. As I stood in my university lab at dawn with a gun pointed at my chest, I didn’t either.

 

A few weeks before, an unfamiliar man in a tailored suit approached me while I read research papers on the quad at Johns Hopkins.

 

“Hello, Sun Jié,” he said.

 

It took a few seconds to register who he was. Finally, I answered, “Father? It’s been a long time.”

 

My father abandoned us when my brother and I were young, leaving our little family to fend for ourselves. Over the years, he reappeared at random times and places, stayed a few hours, then dissolved into the ether. Mother never knew about these unexpected visits. She forbade us to speak of him, so we began calling him Guǐ, The Ghost.

 

His most recent visit was typical. He never spoke about himself or his new life, and he never tried to justify why he’d left us so abruptly.

“How is the post-doc assignment going, Jié?”

 

I was unsurprised he knew about that, though his presumptuous familiarity with my life still annoyed me. “Did you even know I’d finished the doctorate?” I sniped.

 

Father smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’re my eldest son, Jié. Of course I knew.” As always, my resentment of the man instantly melted away. He had that power over me.

 

Guǐ showed up nearly every day for the next two weeks. We lunched together, drank beer, laughed sometimes, and talked about my research.

 

“Epidemiology, isn’t it?” he asked.

 

“I’m working with one of the top researchers in the field,” I replied. “Though I can’t tell you much about the work in Dr. Ripley’s lab. You don’t have the clearance for it, I’m afraid.”

 

“You might be surprised,” he said cryptically. “And anyway, I’m your father. It’s not like I plan to steal your ideas and sell them to Pfizer.” Again, his warm laugh reassured me so I told him more than I should have.

 

“After the COVID-19 pandemic, Dr. Ripley noticed something interesting. There were a number of patients who recovered from the disease quickly but with damaged hypothalamus glands in their brains. For some male subjects, this resulted in the loss of libido and impotence — they no longer experienced sexual desire and they were unable to conceive children.

 

“Almost no research has been done on hypothalamic involvement with sex drive or the neurological origins of desire. So, we’re blazing new trails with our work!” I said proudly (and a bit drunkenly) one night at the pub.

 

Father beamed with pride and replied, “I want to see it.”

 

“See what?”

 

“Your laboratory, Jié. I want to see where you work.”

 

I checked my phone. “It’s 2 am. Nobody’s there now.”

 

“Exactly! So we won’t bother anyone.” He rose from his chair, dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table, and left. For some reason, I followed.

 

When we entered the anteroom of Dr. Ripley’s lab at the university, Charlie, the night security officer, greeted me cheerfully. “Hello, Dr. Sun! You’re here early today. Or is it late?”

 

“Hi, Charlie,” I said. “I’m just here to give my dad a quick tour of the lab.”

 

Charlie was suddenly all business. “This is a restricted area, Dr. Sun. You know that. I can’t let anyone in without sufficient clearance.”

 

As I started to formulate some reason why Charlie should break the rules for me, Father removed a wallet from his suit coat and flipped it open. Charlie’s eyes grew wide and for a moment they darted between the credentials and my father’s face.

 

“Top Secret SAP is certainly sufficient clearance. Sorry for the trouble, Agent Sun,” Charlie said as he nervously unlocked the lab door. I was briefly shocked by the exchange, but I decided to let it pass until later.

 

I gave Father a tour of the small lab, bypassing a ton of rules and containment protocols in my zeal to show off to him. He pointed to a row of metal bottles in a locked cage and asked, “What are those?”

 

I scanned my badge and entered a code to unlock the cabinet. “These are Dewar flasks. They hold liquid nitrogen and samples of the viruses we’re testing.”

 

“So, thermos bottles, huh? With all the viral strains you think might cause impotence.”

 

“Pretty much, yeah. Except they’re all just one strain of SARS coronavirus. We induce mutations to make new variants. The one labeled LR428, is the most promising. It causes mild flu-like symptoms but induces nearly total loss of libido in males. We’d like to know how.”

 

To my horror, Father picked up the flask to examine it. “Father, be careful with that! The virus is highly transmissible, even more contagious than Covid-19.”

 

“That’s great,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Think about it, Jié. Wars are won by the people who survive them.”

 

Baffled, I stared at my father as he continued.

 

“This is a weapon,” he said, holding the thermos in front of him. “The most effective and humane weapon ever invented. With it, we can decimate enemy populations over time without shedding a drop of blood, with barely a sniffle. That’s why I must take this flask from you.”

 

“Are you mad? I… I can’t let you do that.”

 

“Do it for our country!” he ordered.

 

“Which country, Father?”

 

“We’re running out of time. You have no choice.” He removed a pistol from his coat.

 

“Step aside, Jié. I’m going to make you famous.”

 

The laboratory door opened suddenly, and Charlie stepped in. “Everything okay in here?” he asked.

 

Startled, Father fired two shots into Charlie’s chest, then strode toward the door, stepping over his lifeless body. Father’s tortured expression as he looked back at me was the only apology I’d ever get from him.

 

For the last time, Guǐ disappeared into the ether. And with him the thermos labeled SARS-CoV-2/LR428.