“Tiny spots in his brain are liquefying. The higher functions of consciousness are winking out first, leaving the deeper parts of the brain stem (the primitive rat brain, the lizard brain) still alive and functioning. It could be said that the who of Charles Monet has already died while the what of Charles Monet continues to live.”

This description of the Marburg virus’s impact on Charles Monet emphasizes the vulnerability of human beings in the face of deadly viruses. Preston describes the physical impacts of the virus and, more chillingly, the depersonalizing impacts of those physical changes. It is worth noting, however, that, although quite impacted, Charles Monet is still able to walk, speak, and order a taxi to the hospital at this point in his disease progression. The recovery of patients like Dr. Musoke from similarly suppressed mental states cuts against the idea that Monet is already dead at this moment; Preston is dramatizing significantly.

“This is really serious. We don‘t know much about Marburg.”

In this passage, a researcher informs Dr. Silverstein that his patient, Dr. Musoke, is infected with Marburg virus. The phrases haunt him as he ponders the implications of Musoke’s infection with the serious and nearly unknown disease. It emphasizes that Silverstein is practicing medicine—and this book is unveiling information—on the frontiers of science.

“With so many sick monkeys running around it, the island could have become a focus for monkey viruses. It could have been a hot island, an isle of plagues.”

In this passage, Preston mixes the language of disease containment (“a hot island”) with archaic and poetic language (“an isle of plagues”). The layering of synonyms both ensures reader comprehension and allows for dramatic fancy. The passage also emphasizes the perils of the monkey trade and its role in creating conditions for novel disease jumps between species.