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In a way, AIDS suits the style of the late 20th century. In possibly overheated fears, it becomes a death-dealing absolute loose in the world. Westerners for some years have consolidated their dreads, reposing them (if that is the word) in the Bomb, in the one overriding horror of nuclear holocaust. A fat and prosperous West is lounging next door to its great kaboom. It is both smug and edgy at the same time. Now comes another agent of doomsday, this one actually killing people and doubling the number of its victims every ten months as if to reverse the logic of Thomas Malthus. The prospect of nuclear holocaust may be terrible, but the mind takes certain perverse psychological comforts from it. It has not happened, for one thing. And if it does happen, it will be over in a flash. AIDS is much slower and smaller, and may not add up ultimately to a world-historical monster. But the bug has ambitions, and is already proceeding with its arithmetic. Meantime, science, which dreamed up the totalitarian nuke, now labors desperately to eradicate its sinister young friend.