Introduction to the Series

The "Science Fictioned" series combines science fiction and fantasy narratives inspired by scientific research. Each piece begins with a simplified explanation of the underlying science, followed by a fictional story that illustrates these concepts. The current discussion is based on research by Hoover et al. (2011) on genetic influences in behavior.

The Fictional Narrative

"Congratulations, Susan!" Mark exclaimed, waving the school newspaper in front of me. I didn't need to look up; I knew the headline by heart: Record-breaking victory for Susan Mitchell, Carter Middle School's Newest Student Body President.

A few students passing by waved at me, and I returned the gesture, all while trying to organize my backpack. Mark, ever the eager supporter, began reading our campaign promises from the article.

"Ms. President," he teased, "what's your first act of leadership?"

"I'm thinking of banishing my annoying vice-president before he blinds me with that paper."

Mark chuckled and continued suggesting our campaign promises, his enthusiasm infectious. However, I felt a pang of guilt when he asked about plans for the vending machines.

"Are you listening?" he pressed.

"Uh—" I hesitated, "we can discuss it when I return."

"When are you leaving?" he asked, confused. "Your family isn't going on vacation, are they? We just got elected!"

I felt uneasy. "Principal Whittaker announced a special lunch for eighth-grade Class Presidents with the governor."

Mark's face fell. "So, vice presidents are left behind?"

"I'm really sorry, Mark," I said, looking at him. "I had no idea until this morning. I asked Principal Whittaker, but he said only one student can attend."

"Fine," he said coolly. "I'll just work on posters."

"Don't be like that," I replied, trying to lighten the mood. "Pick something from our list, and we can work on it together."

As the icy wind swirled around us, I noticed Principal Whittaker glancing at his watch, anxiously awaiting our ride. The crowd gathered, buzzing with excitement for the arrival of the limousine.

Then it appeared—a long, black car crawling up the driveway.

"Ready, Miss Mitchell?" Principal Whittaker asked, beaming.

I waved, and cheers erupted from the crowd. But my eyes searched for Mark, who was staring at the limo with an intensity that made me uneasy.

"Ow! Mark, you're hurting me," I protested as he gripped my shoulder tightly.

Mark made a strange sound, struggling against the principal and teachers trying to pull him back.

"What's happening?" I cried, feeling tears welling up.

"It's alright, dear," Mrs. Newell, the school nurse, appeared beside me. "Let's go inside to warm up."

But I resisted. "What's wrong with him?"

"He'll be fine. Let's just go inside," she urged.

As I glanced back at Mark, I saw him desperately fighting to get to the limo.

I stood in Mark's hospital room, feeling the weight of his unconsciousness. The monitors beeped steadily, a sound Mark would have found comforting.

Dr. Patterson entered, followed by unfamiliar doctors in masks and gloves.

"Miss…Mitchell, correct?" one doctor asked. "I'm Dr. Williams from the CDC. We need to ask you about Mark."

"Mark has some kind of disease?" I stammered.

"Not exactly," Dr. Williams clarified. "We think he may be infected by a virus."

I was bewildered. "A virus? Like the flu?"

"We need to know when you first noticed Mark's odd behavior," he continued.

Sighing, I recounted how his strange actions began when he saw the limo. Dr. Patterson interjected, asking if Mark had exhibited obsessive tendencies prior to that moment.

"Mark is always intense; it’s just who he is," I explained.

"Have you met Mark's father?" Dr. Williams inquired.

I shook my head. "He never talks about him."

"We'd like to take a blood sample from you to ensure you're not infected," Dr. Williams proposed.

Dr. Patterson protested, demanding parental consent. Just then, my mom appeared, looking concerned.

"We need permission to take a sample from all three of you," Dr. Williams stated.

"What’s wrong with Susan?" my mother asked.

"We're still understanding this virus and its effects," Dr. Williams replied. "Mark's immune response has been promising, but this virus appears to target those with specific genetic traits—traits Mark may have inherited from his father."

Mrs. Callahan gasped at the implication.

Dr. Williams explained how the virus influences behavior, compelling hosts to seek social elevation—much like climbing a tree for a virus-spreading advantage.

"Like trying to meet the governor in a limo?" I suggested, stunned.

"Exactly," he affirmed. "It seems to drive individuals to seek popularity."

As I gazed out my kitchen window, watching snow fall, I couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty. Mark sat across from me, fiddling with a button.

"I can't stay long," he said. "Mom's in full protection mode since I got out."

"Can you blame her?" I asked, smiling.

"I guess not," he sighed, "but it’s annoying. The doctors say I'm virus-free."

"It's surreal to think about," I admitted.

"I remember wanting to get into that limo. It felt like I needed to be more popular," he confessed.

I pondered how much of Mark's ambition was genuine and how much was influenced by the virus.

Principal Whittaker stepped out of his office for the last time, feeling deserving of his new role as Superintendent—an ambition he couldn't quite explain.

It was clear he, too, felt the pull of popularity.

In this brief video, researchers explain how the fungus manipulates ants into climbing trees and the implications of this behavior.