Boston, Massachusetts, December, 2077, Tuesday…

Phillip Ross looked with surprise at his doctor.

"There's nothing left to try?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ross, but you were quite insistent that you didn't want any of the new antibiotics, only the old penicillin derivatives. We've tried them all. Your body has no ability to fight off the infection on its own, but you won't allow me to give you anything else due to your religious beliefs."

"My beliefs rule my life. My church tells me that evolution is bunk, and I believe that. I'm not descended from an ape, doctor."

"We have discussed this, Phillip. I'm not trying to attack your church or your beliefs. I just go with the science. Your infection has become resistant to the usual antibiotics. I guess that's also evolution of a sort, but it will kill you unless you let me treat you."

"Go over the treatment again."

"I'll take a sample of your resistant bacteria and send it to MGH downtown. They will bioengineer an antibiotic to specifically attack that infection. It's a well known therapy. The only problems might be some unwanted side effects, like nausea or diarrhea, but those will be short lived."

"This will be between you and me?"

"And MGH. If you want to continue believing that evolution doesn't happen, that's OK by me. I'm just here to save your life."

"It still won't mean I'm descended from an ape, will it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, the ape lines and the human lines diverged a long time ago." And the ape lines are probably better for it.