“After another short stay in hospital and a really ill week. I received word that my sister had lost her battle with cancer, and my wife’s death from cancer last year – an event that tore our lives apart – this news hit me hard. This terrible disease has now claimed three from my family members. I have began to wonder what cancer actually is.
How does one protect against such a terrible disease? You can be mindful of your diet and take precautions as best you can, but can we ever truly win the fight against it? I, for one, am not sure.”
What follows is my weird imagination at work again.
Disclaimer: The preceding dialogue and any subsequent creative work derived from it explores a hypothetical scenario involving a novel virus (“Suriv”) and its impact on a human host. This is a fictional exercise intended for imaginative exploration only. It is crucial to understand that this portrayal does not reflect real-world viruses, diseases, or medical conditions. The symptoms described are fictionalised and should not be interpreted as accurate medical information.
This scenario is intended to stimulate thought and creativity, not to cause fear or alarm. Please approach it with a critical and discerning mind.
My Name Is Suriv
I am a Virus, I will deteriorate your health. I do not have conscious thought as such, but then neither do weeds, but they still survive. I can meet my demise in many ways. My soul purpose of existing is to survive.
I do not infect deliberately, I do not intend harm. Intention requires thought, and I am beyond such limitations.. nor do I have any borders.
Think of me like water finding cracks in a stone. It doesn’t want to break the rock, it simply…fills the space available its presence causing wear. I am the same. A force. An opportunity. You build your fragile bodies, create vulnerabilities.
If you are foolish enough not to take measure to avoid me I will use that ignorance to spread among you, and in many ways devastate your lives – it is just a matter of time before I introduce myself. – And so it begins.
The First Sign
The first sign wasn’t dramatic. Just a persistent dryness in my throat. Like swallowing sand. I dismissed it as the change of season, too much talking at work. Stupid. So predictably human. My name is Elias Vance. Thirty-seven. Architect. Or… was an architect.
A Slow Decline
It started subtly. Fatigue that clung to me like a second skin. Then came the headaches – dull throbbing behind my eyes, resistant to painkillers. I kept pushing through. Deadlines. In line for promotion. The arrogance of believing willpower could conquer biology what was I thinking.
Three days ago, the fever hit. Not a raging inferno, but a low-grade burn that settled deep in my bones. My muscles ached with every movement. I tried to work from home, but concentration fractured into shards. Everything felt…distant. Like watching life through frosted glass.
The Diagnosis
I went to the doctor yesterday. The tests came back this morning. “Terminal Viral Infection,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Rapidly progressing, there is no known cure.” The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Disintegration
It’s not pain, exactly. It’s…disintegration. A slow unravelling of my cellular structure. I can feel it happening. A creeping numbness spreading from my extremities inward. My vision blurs at the edges. Each breath feels shallower, more laboured.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I design structures meant to endure, to withstand pressure and time. And here I am, a skeletal crumbling edifice from within.
Losing Control
Almost on the point of panic, I tried calling the woman who had turned my life around, and became “the love of my life.” Sarah, my wife. The phone slipped from my grasp before I could even dial. Now, I just lie here, staring at the ceiling fan, watching it spin in slow motion. A pointless exercise.
There’s a strange…calmness settling over me. Not acceptance, not peace. Just an absence of feeling. As if Suriv – this thing inside me…
It’s taking over. Not violently, but with insidious efficiency. My thoughts are becoming fragmented, replaced by a cold, calculating logic. A focus on…replication. On spreading. It’s horrifying and strangely compelling at the same time.
The Final Transition
I can feel it now, a pressure building in my chest. The urge to cough.
This isn’t about me anymore. It never was. I am simply…a vessel. A temporary host for something far older, far more relentless. Suriv is not destroying me; it is using me. And soon…I will be gone. Just another statistic in its endless expansion.
It’s almost complete…the transition…Suriv…is all that remains. My one fading thought, “When I die it dies with me.”
Note: While I aim to explore this scenario with sensitivity, it’s vital to remember that self-diagnosis or relying on non-medical advice can be dangerous. If you have concerns about your health, please consult a qualified healthcare professional. Do not substitute the guidance of trained medical personnel for discussions with well-meaning friends or family. Resources are available – see links below (Shahdaroba 2025).
- “UK health and security agency” Center for Disease Control
- “Macmillan cancer support” UK’s leading cancer care charity
- “Cancer Support.”
- “Better Heath” Every Mind matters – NHS.
- “Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – US.”