Now, at the sight of his face, with its deep furrows and crazy eyebrows, I’m flooded with affection. Even the reconstituted Molestache is a welcome sight. I’ve missed him so much. He’s watching me attentively, smiling at my mention of dimwitted but hot female sidekicks. I owe it to him to make this speech a good one.

“Here’s where the superhero trope breaks down,” I say. “When mass destruction did actually threaten the world, it wasn’t some muscle-bound dipshit who saved us, but our scientists and doctors. Chief among them plenty of women.” Lots of nodding: plenty of people in this crowd are familiar with the female-led group of immunologists at the Vaccine Research Center at the NIH who partnered with a pharmaceutical company to develop and mass-produce the first vaccine.

“There are too many people to thank by name. Our vaccine developers. The scientists in Spain and Morocco—the index countries—who worked together to share the first genetic sequencing with the world, kicking off an unparalleled degree of international collaboration. The developers and producers of billions of rapid tests. President Corbett, for her brilliant, capable early response. And most of all, always, the physicians and nurses who battled around the clock to save our lives at great personal risk to themselves. This last group tends to wear scrubs, not skintight camo pants, and I’d guess most aren’t built like Hollywood action stars. But they are the true heroes.”

Light applause. They’re digging it now. Before I lose them, I speak again.

Time to make it personal.

“Before ART became global,” I say, “I went on a trip to southern Europe, where I was one of the first people from North America to contract CARS-ArV-01. A bit ironic, because, as our hostess informed you, I’ve spent the majority of my professional life at the CDC studying this family of viruses, waiting, I suppose, for something like this pandemic to occur. I had a mild case and recovered without incident. My traveling companions and I isolated or quarantined ourselves for the requisite amount of time, concerned about the disruption to our health and our jobs and our families but innocent at the time of the massive upheaval our society would be facing in a matter of weeks. Personally, we felt we’d dodged the bullet, assuming that surviving an infection would confer some degree of immunity to reinfection—which we now know is largely correct. Although this is not the case for all viruses, infection with both variants of CARS-ArV does protect you from getting the same illness again.”

I hazard a glance at Green Blazer and see an avid stare replacing his detachment; there’s no doubt he’s interested. I don’t look at Hannah.