The other day, I was video chatting with my walking buddy, Jo, about the history of viruses and plagues because it’s sometimes easier to talk about something intellectually than with your heart.

Did you know that human beings were unaware of viruses until nearly the twentieth century? In 1899, shortly after their discovery, a Dutch microbiologist named Martinus Beijerinck called viruses a “contagious living fluid.”

Though the origin of viruses is unclear, some theorize that viruses existed before most other stuff and may even have led to the evolution of cellular life. Therefore, viruses could be our ancient ancestors. Given all that humanity has done to wreck the earth, I imagine Covid as an angry old man hollering, “I brought you into this world, I can take you out!”

But no, coronavirus will not be our end. Though I have noticed a collective human deterioration since the onset of our resident global pandemic (ahem, fights over toilet paper), this is perhaps more a soul-level debasement brought on by stress than biological decline. And to be fair, there have also been bright spots (Italians singing together).

Neither people nor viruses are all bad. For example, if viruses suddenly disappeared, we’d all perish in less than 48 hours. Thanks, BBC, for that uplifting factoid. More evidence that you can’t judge an entire life form based on a few (COVID-19, cholera, bubonic plague, smallpox, etc) bad experiences.

We might hate them right now, but we also need viruses. Here are a few things I learned after my talk with Jo:

• One teaspoon of seawater contains like ten million viruses. When I think about swimming in the ocean now, I want to barf, but those millions in the sea aren’t actually bad for us.
• We have viruses to thank for reducing carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.
• The herpes virus makes mice less susceptible to certain bacterial infections, like bubonic plague and listeria. Possibly, added immunity isn’t worth herpes, but still.

Maybe viruses are a mixed bag. Like people, we shouldn’t make sweeping judgments about the whole lot of them. But also like humans, some are more bad than others. I still can’t get over how certain viruses torment living creatures unhurriedly, agonizingly until death.

Of course, I’m not fond of people who do that, either, but viruses are living off other life forms, just doing their symbiotic thing. Humans who torture and murder other humans are destroying their own kind. That’s worse, right?

But wait! Scientists in 2008 discovered a virus that targets other viruses and another in 2011. They called this new thing a “virophage” or “virus eater,” which makes me think of Jeffery Dahmer or that movie Soylent Green.

The scientific importance of viruses that attack other viruses is completely lost on me, but I’m weirdly comforted by the thought that our human tendencies to brutalize one another might be a thing programmed into our cells rather than manifested during evolution. What if we come by these compulsions honestly, as predispositions from our most primeval ancestors?

Perhaps we didn’t bring into being our inclinations to hurt each other, but rather they were seeded in us from our very earliest expression. Before we were even human. Like our father’s big nose or our great-aunt’s impressive ability to wiggle her ears, maybe ruin by our own hands was coded into us back when we were just contagious living fluid.

Though the idea that we are prewired appeals because it provides us a level of absolution, I still cling to the belief that despite possibly sharing ancient DNA with viruses, humans with our big brains and evolved autonomic nervous systems can do better than viruses.

We can choose not to torture living things or eat our own kind. We can live in organized societies, nurture our young, and create miraculous things—like ice cream and blockchain. Surely, we can find a way to persist on a micro and macro level without self-annihilating.

My darkest pandemic thoughts lead me to the only thing that gives me hope: Humans can love. Not just those in our families or tribal groups. Everyone.

I moved last year with my family to The Netherlands. My life before in the US was pretty insular. But as an expat and through my work with A Human Workplace, I’ve been connecting with incredible, generous people from all over the world—people who don’t look or talk or think the same way I do and whose experiences and stories have challenged my thinking and expanded my heart.

All these amazing miracle creatures full of empathy and kindness and love. I want them to keep living. I don’t want anyone to be tormented or killed by a virus.

When I’m sitting alone, listening to my own breath sounds and wondering if I’m feeling Covid-related chest pressure or if my bra is just too tight, I consider my ability to love.

What even is it? What does it look like?

Maybe love is reading a book that will help me better understand other people. Maybe it’s not saying hurtful things when I’m feeling angry. Maybe it’s wearing a mask when I don’t feel like it, giving extra space to others, or not hugging people outside my household. Maybe it’s walking with a friend in nature or meeting up online instead of in person to discuss the nature of pandemics.

Whether you think love is real or a result of chemicals or a self-serving evolutionary behavior—none of that matters. Because what we call love is a unique superpower humans have that viruses don’t.

Will humanity endure? I hope so. But if we want to improve our chances, loving each other is a good survival strategy.