He became the first physician in history to inoculate a patient through his bright observations and confidence to believe in his knowledge allowing him to save millions of lives throughout the centuries. I didn't become a doctor to lose lives. But as I walk through the streets and pass countless - lifeless - bodies. I can't help but feel like I've failed. Victims - they come in. They report flu symptoms, fevers, nausea, rashes that turn their skin to scales, and by the end of the week, 3/10 of our visitors never make it home to see their families. And those who do are left with scars for the rest of their lives. Some don't lose their life, but lose their sight. It's smallpox. This wasn't the first outbreak and it wouldn't be our last. For hundreds of years, we've tried to fight smallpox. Its a losing battle. We have no solution.So far our responses have been...controversial to say the least. Some tried smoking. Others prayed. My fellow doctors - believing that our vessels housed diseases - even tried draining bodes of fluids in an attempt to "cure" smallpox. Medicine was tricky in the 18th century. But I had a hunch. I'd gotten word from across the pond - from Asia - of a potential answer... Here's the idea: when fighting an unknown invader, sometimes the winning strategy comes from capturing a member of the enemy and interrogating them so we know what we're up against; so we can reinforce our defences and carry out a counterattack. That's it. Use the enemy - smallpox - to mount a response. The only way for that to work though was to let the human body do the interrogating. And in order to achieve that, we needed to inject a sample of the virus into a living body; the virus that had taken hundreds of millions of lives and has no cure. It was too dangerous. My only test subject was James, a boy no older than 8. I took an oath. I couldn't expose this boy to smallpox based on a hunch... And as I delivered him home and entered the country side, I noticed something. Where the city streets were littered with bodies, the fields and farms were full of life. I saw healthy farmers, field-hands, and animals. And when we finally arrived at James' house, I couldn't help but ask one of the farmers if he had any idea what was going on in the city. "Of course, we know. But we're not worried. Why, we're immune." "Immune? How?!" There was no cure, no secret treatment. "Everyone here's gotten cowpox before! And once you get that, your body's set for all kinds of poxes I 'spose - even smallpox!" I couldn't believe it. Cowpox: the milder, more manageable cousin of smallpox. That was the answer. It wasn't nearly as dangerous and we figured James would've caught it eventually. So we set out to test my new hunch. So, with care and consent, we took borrowed the pus from cowpox blisters on the hands of my milkmaid, injected into James' arms, and hoped for the best. At first, Little James' temperature rose. He said he felt cold; his head felt heavy. I was with him the entire time, holding my breath. But after 9 long days, he got better; recovered. Thank God. No lasting effects, no scars, and no blindness. Then came step 2. We needed to expose him, carefully, to a small sample of... smallpox. If was I right, and I prayed that I was, he would show no signs of sickness. He'd be, as the farmers suggested, immune. And nothing. A few days pass, and no symptoms emerge. No fevers, nausea, rashes, nothing. So, after a week, we try again; offer his body some smallpox.. Nothing! My hunch was seemingly confirmed and - more importantly - James stayed healthy! Armed with these findings, I am able to perform more tests - on subjects from the city that were already at risk of fighting and losing to smallpox. This was my opportunity to save them before they went to battle, alert their bodily defenses, keep my promise as a doctor. So I inject in them a small sample of cowpox. I can't help but worry that their age, their diets, their bodies, might change the outcome; that James was a one-in-a-million. But to delight, they develop mild symptoms, develop defenses, recover, and move on with life, now seemingly immune to a disease that continued to take lives all around them. So in the midst of an epidemic, I hastily publish my findings. I tell this story. The farmers, cowpox, James. I prepare what is basically a booklet on how we might finally win against smallpox for the first time in centuries. Like everything else, however, its met with controversy. Medicine is tricky in the 18 century. But sooner or later, it catches on because...it works. People start using cowpox against smallpox. And finally, I reckon this new procedure needs a name. So, after the Latin word for "cowpox", I decide to name this treatment "vaccinia", or vaccine - the world's first. Today, thanks to this vaccine, smallpox has been eradicated. My name is Edward Jenner, and I pioneered the first vaccine.

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