the MESSAGE. Beginning

Prologue

The flat-screen television hung on the wall in our tiny yet cozy twelfth-floor living room displayed the news. On the screen, around a dozen people bustled around three astronauts in white spacesuits. They had just landed in the scorched daughter capsule, lying nearby like an empty beer can. The wind persistently toyed with the white parachute fabric that had brought the capsule from space, straight from the orbiting International Space Station.

One of the astronauts reclined on his back and wearily smiled into the camera. He removed his helmet and undercap, relishing the cool air of the surrounding steppe. His sweat-drenched face filled the entire screen. Suddenly, the smile gave way to a grimace of strain. The man began to cough heavily. People around him waved their hands in concern. A team of medics rushed to his aid. In the lower corner of the television screen, I noticed the date of the news broadcast: May 15, 2020.

The scene changed to another news report. I saw a journalist, a young and businesslike woman donning a white lab coat. She reported from the reception hospital.

"... the condition of our astronaut remains stable. Doctors at the central clinical hospital are doing everything possible to clarify the diagnosis of the illness. According to preliminary information we received from the hospital representatives, the astronaut may be suffering from acute bronchitis caused by temperature fluctuations in space and a weakened immune system due to solar radiation exposure. We will keep you informed..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the date: May 17, 2020.

The next news report featured the same young woman as a reporter. Beside her stood a tall, lanky man in a white lab coat. He repeatedly wiped his sweaty forehead with his hand, displaying evident nervousness.

"Please, inform the channel's viewers if there have been any changes in the patient's condition? And has the final diagnosis been made?" the woman asked.

"Mmm... the patient's condition is a cause for concern. New symptoms have been identified, which require further examination and analysis..." the man responded, visibly flustered.

"What symptoms are you referring to?" the woman interjected.

"Mmm..." the man hesitated, looking uncertainly into the camera. He removed his glasses and rubbed his reddened nose. "The uncontrollable cough, fever, sweating, and headaches have subsided in the patient. Now we are dealing with a different set of symptoms: rash, diarrhea, and vomiting, which are highly atypical for the presumed diagnosis. We have sent samples for analysis to the dermatologists and allergologists at the Republican Clinical Hospital in the capital. They have the necessary equipment to conduct their investigations and will inform us of their findings in due course. Until the results are ready, it's difficult for me to speak definitively..."

"In society, there exists the belief that a cosmonaut might have contracted a new type of virus brought to Earth from outer space, one yet unknown to science. What is your stance on such rumors?"

"Highly unlikely," the man chuckles nervously, "nonsense and speculations. We need more time to thoroughly grasp the situation. I am confident that very soon we will have a complete understanding of the illness, putting an end to these rumors. We are also in communication with doctors in Houston and Beijing, where two other cosmonauts were sent after exhibiting similar symptoms. They have pledged to share their research findings as soon as they are ready..."

His speech falters. The man touches his lips, slightly coughs, clears his throat. Then he coughs again and again until the coughing fits double him over. The doctor's face reddens from the strain, and his eyes become bloodshot. Before the transmission is cut off, I notice the date of the news broadcast: May 30, 2020.