(Editor's note: apparently my general disinterest in the machinations of the crypto 'scene' have left me stranded in Steem, while everyone else was partying it up over here in Hive. I've got myself transferred, but looks like my last post didn't - so here 'tis - with small additions near the end)
As I stepped outside to make the short walk from my doorstep to the bus stop, I couldn't help but notice things were different. At 10am, I usually expect to see traffic busy - not bumper to bumper like peak hour - but at least busy enough to warrant using the pedestrian traffic island to safely make my way across one half of the road, then the second. I could cleanly cross the whole road without even having to think about traffic.
The bus arrived on time, not hindered by traffic - or by a glut of passengers, it seems. One woman sat near the front, surgical mask on her face, used and dirty medical gloves on her hands, and a lone man sat further back staring at his phone.
I took a seat and settled in for the short 10 minute bus ride, when a small cough made its way out of my throat. The air electrified instantly; the man didn't seem to care, but the woman with the mask immediately stared in my direction and demanded to know who coughed. She moved further away, adjusted her well used mask with her well used gloves, and started shouting that I shouldn't be on the bus if I had corona. That she was calling the police on me. That it was illegal to be outside.
It wasn't illegal. It was strongly recommended. Moreso, I was fairly certain I didn't have corona since I didn't have any other symptoms, ties to known carriers, hadn't travelled, and my recent blood test for viral infections didn't show any concerns.
She carried on for as long as it took me to enable noise cancellation on my headphones. Just because I'm a bastard, I didn't hold back on further small coughs - always into my elbow, of course - and may have slightly revelled in her discomfort.
Arriving at the city, the woman couldn't get off of the bus fast enough. Like my home street, the streets in the city were eerily abandoned. Busy enough to warrant care, of course, but far more deserted than usual. My bus to work was similarly empty, and thankfully lacking in paranoid people, and the major transport interchange - usually a bustling metropolis of travellers - contained only a handful of people.
Everywhere I walked, there were masks. Some medical, some cloth, some industrial, and many makeshift from scarves. People wore gloves as well, to avoid contact with surfaces. I wryly noted a few still touching their faces, reusing masks and gloves freely, not realising that they all held a false sense of security in the use of protective gear by misusing it.
Arriving at work, we were each scanned by a manager to check our temperature. People used paper to open doors, sanitised their hands, wiped their headsets and keyboards with wipes. Signs everywhere limited the number of staff able to be in a given meeting room, and promoted physical distancing. Some staff used masks, others sprayed their surrounds with Glen 20.
Heading home, I stopped by the supermarket. It was nearly empty - an uncommon sight for a central, major hub. The toilet paper aisle was empty as always, and the streets, similarly, were barren. I hoped I'd be able to find toilet paper soon - my pack was running low.
Since posting this on Steem a week ago, we've been issued government papers - a letter that advises that we, the bearer, are deemed essential employees and therefore authorised to leave home and travel for employment. A gloriously dystopian place to be; having to carry papers authorising our right to be outside.
GLORY TO ARSTOTZKA!
It's an odd sensation to see all your friends without work. Hundreds of thousands of people now unable to afford the basic necessities of life, all in the blink of an eye and the stroke of a parliamentary pen, while your life - as an essential worker - moves on like nothing changed, in the midst of everything changing.
