Green Light, Red Light
Frank sat on the brown plaid sofa and stared at the noisy TV. The meatloaf was finished. It was time to relax.
“Bring me a beer, will ya hon?” shouted Frank to his wife of thirty-eight years. Ethel dried her soapy hands on the pink dish cloth and reached into the Frigidaire to grab Frank his Bud.
“Ethel, sit down. You can catch up on the dishes later. We gotta watch the news. I need to listen. How else are we gonna know what’s going on?”
“Yes, dear,” murmured Ethel.
“Good evening,” the anchor smiled. “I am John Vanity. Tonight, March 6, 2020, we begin with the stock report. They were down today. All told, the Dow gave up 970 points, the S & P surrendered 106 points, and the NASDAQ lost 279 points. After the Super Tuesday primaries bounce, I’m afraid we’re looking at a rather precipitous drop.
Ethel looked with alarm at Frank. “Are we going to be okay, Frank? You know, we have that one stock. It’s our retirement.”
“Shh, let’s keep listening,” Frank replied.
John Vanity continued, “Hoping to keep people optimistic about the economy, our president is reacting to this grim financial news with some encouraging words on the corona virus, also known as covid-19. Let’s listen in.”
The president appeared, “Now, this is just my hunch, and - but based on a lot of conversations with a lot of people that do this, because a lot of people will have this, and it’s very mild. They will get better very rapidly. They don’t even see a doctor. They don’t even call a doctor. You never hear about those people. “
Ethel shuddered. “I’ve heard about this. Mabel across the street says we need to buy hand sanitizer.”
Frank shook his head, “Nah, she’s just getting all worked up about this. She’s probably watching too much TV. Listen to him. See? It’s going to be fine.”
“Shhh,” hissed Ethel. “I want to hear this.” She focused her attention on the orange- glowing image on the flickering TV.
“…because a lot of people will have this, and it’s very mild. They will get better very rapidly. They don’t even see a doctor. They don’t even call a doctor. You never hear about those people.
“…of people that get better just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work - some of them go to work, but they get better…
“I want you all to know that we have this well in hand. There is nothing to worry about. It’s all perfect. Just like the letter…”
‘I’ve heard enough,” snorted Frank. “It doesn’t sound like a big deal. I think our stock will be fine. What else is there to see tonight?“ He started flipping channels away from his beloved Pox News.
“Ah, a game show! I love those!”
A slick studio stage came into view.
“Hello! Welcome to ‘This is Your Choice, Your Life.’ I am Johnny." The host’s shiny shoes were only exceeded in gloss by his wide, bright smile “Tonight we will be talking about Corona virus, also known as covid-19. We all need to be aware of the initial symptoms of this disease, a dry cough and a fever. Listen carefully as we explore this topic.”
“Crap! This again?” Frank was about to switch off the TV. But the game show held his attention.
“You see before you two doors. The red door represents our experiences if we aggressively tackle this disease. The green door will show us what will happen if we do nothing. Which response do you think will be the best choice?
“You there, on the couch… Pick a door, any door.”
Frank eyed the garage doors on the set with a intense gaze. He would win this! Hadn’t he just gotten the official word from the prez? Had he been worried?”
“Green” Frank blurted.
“You picked green,” Johnny gave a broad grin. “We’ll see what happens if we do nothing. It’s all natural, right?”
Johnny carefully set a huge dial to 1 month.
The gre door swung open to the image of busy crowds at an amusement park. Lines for rides snaked like caterpillars.
The image switched to a typical hospital. The floors shone like mirrors. Doctors and nurses in white coats walked purposely through the hallways.
“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?" commented Johnny. "Let’s move our clock to two months.”
Again, the scene was the amusement park. This time it was empty. A discarded paper cup was blowing down the walk.
Next, the view showed the hospital, mobbed with moaning patients and frantic staff. Temporary beds were parked in the hallways. You could identify the medical professionals by the haz-mat suits they were wearing. Many were running from one patient to another.
A person dressed head to toe in a haz-mat suit could be identified as a reporter only by the microphone she was thrusting in front of the doctor she wanted to interview.
“We have here Dr. Ramirez, head of this metropolitan hospital. Dr. Ramirez, how are things going here?”
“We are overwhelmed! First, we didn’t have testing kits in the community so people got sick--but didn't feel sick-- and shared their illness with everyone. At school and at work, at church and in synagogue, at the malls and at parties. Remember, once you contract the illness, you can feel fine for as long as two weeks. People who feel good continue their regular habits, meanwhile they are exposing their families and friends.
"Then, about a week ago, patients started pouring in. We just have no more room. We have the most critically ill patients in the rooms with the ventilators. We are not even able to isolate patients anymore. Perhaps most frightening of all, we are down to fifty percent of our staff because they are all falling ill as well.
"Even our coroners are overwhelmed. We are experiencing a fifteen percent mortality rate among all the patients over eighty who are under our care. We can’t even let their families in to mourn their loved ones.”
The reporter turned to face the camera. “After just two months it is estimated that 50% of the world wide population has come down with the corona virus. Cases are spreading like wildfire.”
“Dang, this sounds terrible,” cursed Frank. “Maybe the president is unaware of this. Hey Johnny! I want to choose the red door. Isn’t there something we can do about this?”
“Ah, now you picked red,” Mr. Shiny Teeth responded. “Let’s see what’s back there. The red door represents your choice if you choose to aggressively step in to try to prevent the spread of the virus. Let’s see where that takes us.”
Johnny turned the ten-foot-wide wheel. Again, he carefully set it for one month.
This time it was the red garage door that opened further to show a large video screen. “Here we see precautionary measures being taken at every turn.”
“Hand washing is promoted from every side.
“In the airport you see that people are having their temperatures taken as they walk down the jetway to their flight. Fair enough. Probably all good efforts to minimize the chances of someone coming on board carrying the virus.”
The view changed, showing dozens of empty tennis courts surrounded by perky palm trees. “Here we see the Internationally renowned tennis championship in Indian Wells, California. Notice, no one is here to watch because tourists’ tickets were cancelled. The effort is to eliminate group events that attract masses of people.”
The view slid out to the plaza before the arena. Hundreds of tented booths were set up. A lone vendor stood forlornly in front of his empty booth.
“How are you sir? And what is your name?” A reporter stuck his microphone in front of the man.
“Hola. My name is Hector. I sell hot dogs at these events. I have no customers. Nobody is here. I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is the biggest money maker I have. I don't know how I'll manage without it. I have a big family at home.”
The last view was of the president, standing at his podium, announcing that the government was succeeding wildly at their mitigation efforts. “Things are so much worse in Asia and Europe,” he said. “We are the greatest nation on earth…”
The closing view was of a newscast for March 9, 2020. “Stocks have plummeted to new lows. The closing bell for the Dow Jones average was 23,851, an alarming 7.8% drop since February 12.
Johnny reset the wheel to three months.
“Oh no! What is this? Now we see airlines being closed down tonight. People are no longer allowed to go on their flights! Look, there is Ezme who can’t travel to her own wedding! And over there we see Bradley who can’t get to Iowa to visit with his dying father.”
The camera zoomed in on a dapper gentleman in a pin-striped suit standing in the middle of the chaotic crowds. “Hello, I am Arthur. I am the CEO of this airline. I’m afraid we will lose millions of dollars through this action.”
The screen began to scroll through several channels. On every channel a reporter was intoning “The markets fell again today. This is their greatest loss since 1929.”
Frank simply stared at the TV, his mouth agape. “Surely, this is all a hoax,” he managed to squeak out.
Then Johnny resolutely turned the dial to four months.
Hector reappeared once again. “I haven’t been paid in weeks,” he lamented. He pointed to a tiny frail woman gasping for air on a narrow bed. “My abuelita is very sick. I can’t afford to take her to the doctor. My wife and kids have all had it. How will I take care of everyone?”
The scene changed to Arthur, the CEO, selling hot dogs on the street. He grimaced and shrugged.
"At least I can eat," he said, "At least I like hotdogs. Oh, and remember to wash your hands. Sorry, I wasn’t able to get any hand sanitizer.”
Johnny stepped in front of the big dial. “How do you think this all plays out?" he posed. He set the dial one more time, this time to ‘Summary.’
Both the red and the green garage doors were open. Somewhat oddly, Hector appeared in both scenes.
From the green garage, Hector spoke, “When society was relaxed about their approach, people continued to gather at events. I was able to sell hot dogs at the tennis tournament and made a lot of money. But after the huge crowds there and other places, people quickly became sick in droves. My abuela died anyway. She couldn’t avoid being exposed. But then I also got sick and I ended up having a heart attack.”
Arthur stepped in. “My airline lost a lot of money anyway. Too many people were too sick to travel. We ended up declaring bankruptcy. This happened to so many companies, that a new depression was declared. The only businesses that seemed to thrive was the hand sanitizer business and the toilet paper industry. Go figure.
“After that, everyone blamed the economic slump on the president and he was not re-elected.”
Hector from the red garage then spoke up. “With stringent anti-viral mitigation actions, life was very different for months. All large gatherings were cancelled, even schools. Most people became hyper-fastidious about hand washing. My grandma came down with something serious but she was able to get into the hospital and get the treatment she needed. Now she’s back home and back to nagging me.
“The stock market tanked anyways. Government bailed a number of industries out after their losses. So, the country’s is not as rich as it used to be, but we’re slowly improving. I think I’ll invest in that new vaccine they say is coming out.
“Here’s the weird thing. With everyone going nuts washing their hands all the time, world-wide illness actually dropped for all other infectious diseases. Cases of measles went down, common colds diminished, strep throat was cut in half.
“People began to enjoy outdoor activities they could do in small groups, like biking and hiking.
The numbers of people working from home skyrocketed. They discovered they liked it. They also appreciated spending less on gas for commuting.
“With that, plus the avoidance of air travel, the domestic oil industry became much less dependent upon foreign oil suppliers.
“In short, life is different now. The pace has slowed, but people are happier.“
Frank was mesmerized by the undulating image on the TV.
Ethel broke through his reverie, “Would you like dessert, dear?” she asked.
.
"Oh, yeah. But let me wash my hands first."
"Are you OK, dear? That's not like you." Ethel raised the back of her hand up to feel Frank's forehead.
"You don't have a fever, do you?".
“Bring me a beer, will ya hon?” shouted Frank to his wife of thirty-eight years. Ethel dried her soapy hands on the pink dish cloth and reached into the Frigidaire to grab Frank his Bud.
“Ethel, sit down. You can catch up on the dishes later. We gotta watch the news. I need to listen. How else are we gonna know what’s going on?”
“Yes, dear,” murmured Ethel.
“Good evening,” the anchor smiled. “I am John Vanity. Tonight, March 6, 2020, we begin with the stock report. They were down today. All told, the Dow gave up 970 points, the S & P surrendered 106 points, and the NASDAQ lost 279 points. After the Super Tuesday primaries bounce, I’m afraid we’re looking at a rather precipitous drop.
Ethel looked with alarm at Frank. “Are we going to be okay, Frank? You know, we have that one stock. It’s our retirement.”
“Shh, let’s keep listening,” Frank replied.
John Vanity continued, “Hoping to keep people optimistic about the economy, our president is reacting to this grim financial news with some encouraging words on the corona virus, also known as covid-19. Let’s listen in.”
The president appeared, “Now, this is just my hunch, and - but based on a lot of conversations with a lot of people that do this, because a lot of people will have this, and it’s very mild. They will get better very rapidly. They don’t even see a doctor. They don’t even call a doctor. You never hear about those people. “
Ethel shuddered. “I’ve heard about this. Mabel across the street says we need to buy hand sanitizer.”
Frank shook his head, “Nah, she’s just getting all worked up about this. She’s probably watching too much TV. Listen to him. See? It’s going to be fine.”
“Shhh,” hissed Ethel. “I want to hear this.” She focused her attention on the orange- glowing image on the flickering TV.
“…because a lot of people will have this, and it’s very mild. They will get better very rapidly. They don’t even see a doctor. They don’t even call a doctor. You never hear about those people.
“…of people that get better just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work - some of them go to work, but they get better…
“I want you all to know that we have this well in hand. There is nothing to worry about. It’s all perfect. Just like the letter…”
‘I’ve heard enough,” snorted Frank. “It doesn’t sound like a big deal. I think our stock will be fine. What else is there to see tonight?“ He started flipping channels away from his beloved Pox News.
“Ah, a game show! I love those!”
A slick studio stage came into view.
“Hello! Welcome to ‘This is Your Choice, Your Life.’ I am Johnny." The host’s shiny shoes were only exceeded in gloss by his wide, bright smile “Tonight we will be talking about Corona virus, also known as covid-19. We all need to be aware of the initial symptoms of this disease, a dry cough and a fever. Listen carefully as we explore this topic.”
“Crap! This again?” Frank was about to switch off the TV. But the game show held his attention.
“You see before you two doors. The red door represents our experiences if we aggressively tackle this disease. The green door will show us what will happen if we do nothing. Which response do you think will be the best choice?
“You there, on the couch… Pick a door, any door.”
Frank eyed the garage doors on the set with a intense gaze. He would win this! Hadn’t he just gotten the official word from the prez? Had he been worried?”
“Green” Frank blurted.
“You picked green,” Johnny gave a broad grin. “We’ll see what happens if we do nothing. It’s all natural, right?”
Johnny carefully set a huge dial to 1 month.
The gre door swung open to the image of busy crowds at an amusement park. Lines for rides snaked like caterpillars.
The image switched to a typical hospital. The floors shone like mirrors. Doctors and nurses in white coats walked purposely through the hallways.
“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?" commented Johnny. "Let’s move our clock to two months.”
Again, the scene was the amusement park. This time it was empty. A discarded paper cup was blowing down the walk.
Next, the view showed the hospital, mobbed with moaning patients and frantic staff. Temporary beds were parked in the hallways. You could identify the medical professionals by the haz-mat suits they were wearing. Many were running from one patient to another.
A person dressed head to toe in a haz-mat suit could be identified as a reporter only by the microphone she was thrusting in front of the doctor she wanted to interview.
“We have here Dr. Ramirez, head of this metropolitan hospital. Dr. Ramirez, how are things going here?”
“We are overwhelmed! First, we didn’t have testing kits in the community so people got sick--but didn't feel sick-- and shared their illness with everyone. At school and at work, at church and in synagogue, at the malls and at parties. Remember, once you contract the illness, you can feel fine for as long as two weeks. People who feel good continue their regular habits, meanwhile they are exposing their families and friends.
"Then, about a week ago, patients started pouring in. We just have no more room. We have the most critically ill patients in the rooms with the ventilators. We are not even able to isolate patients anymore. Perhaps most frightening of all, we are down to fifty percent of our staff because they are all falling ill as well.
"Even our coroners are overwhelmed. We are experiencing a fifteen percent mortality rate among all the patients over eighty who are under our care. We can’t even let their families in to mourn their loved ones.”
The reporter turned to face the camera. “After just two months it is estimated that 50% of the world wide population has come down with the corona virus. Cases are spreading like wildfire.”
“Dang, this sounds terrible,” cursed Frank. “Maybe the president is unaware of this. Hey Johnny! I want to choose the red door. Isn’t there something we can do about this?”
“Ah, now you picked red,” Mr. Shiny Teeth responded. “Let’s see what’s back there. The red door represents your choice if you choose to aggressively step in to try to prevent the spread of the virus. Let’s see where that takes us.”
Johnny turned the ten-foot-wide wheel. Again, he carefully set it for one month.
This time it was the red garage door that opened further to show a large video screen. “Here we see precautionary measures being taken at every turn.”
“Hand washing is promoted from every side.
“In the airport you see that people are having their temperatures taken as they walk down the jetway to their flight. Fair enough. Probably all good efforts to minimize the chances of someone coming on board carrying the virus.”
The view changed, showing dozens of empty tennis courts surrounded by perky palm trees. “Here we see the Internationally renowned tennis championship in Indian Wells, California. Notice, no one is here to watch because tourists’ tickets were cancelled. The effort is to eliminate group events that attract masses of people.”
The view slid out to the plaza before the arena. Hundreds of tented booths were set up. A lone vendor stood forlornly in front of his empty booth.
“How are you sir? And what is your name?” A reporter stuck his microphone in front of the man.
“Hola. My name is Hector. I sell hot dogs at these events. I have no customers. Nobody is here. I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is the biggest money maker I have. I don't know how I'll manage without it. I have a big family at home.”
The last view was of the president, standing at his podium, announcing that the government was succeeding wildly at their mitigation efforts. “Things are so much worse in Asia and Europe,” he said. “We are the greatest nation on earth…”
The closing view was of a newscast for March 9, 2020. “Stocks have plummeted to new lows. The closing bell for the Dow Jones average was 23,851, an alarming 7.8% drop since February 12.
Johnny reset the wheel to three months.
“Oh no! What is this? Now we see airlines being closed down tonight. People are no longer allowed to go on their flights! Look, there is Ezme who can’t travel to her own wedding! And over there we see Bradley who can’t get to Iowa to visit with his dying father.”
The camera zoomed in on a dapper gentleman in a pin-striped suit standing in the middle of the chaotic crowds. “Hello, I am Arthur. I am the CEO of this airline. I’m afraid we will lose millions of dollars through this action.”
The screen began to scroll through several channels. On every channel a reporter was intoning “The markets fell again today. This is their greatest loss since 1929.”
Frank simply stared at the TV, his mouth agape. “Surely, this is all a hoax,” he managed to squeak out.
Then Johnny resolutely turned the dial to four months.
Hector reappeared once again. “I haven’t been paid in weeks,” he lamented. He pointed to a tiny frail woman gasping for air on a narrow bed. “My abuelita is very sick. I can’t afford to take her to the doctor. My wife and kids have all had it. How will I take care of everyone?”
The scene changed to Arthur, the CEO, selling hot dogs on the street. He grimaced and shrugged.
"At least I can eat," he said, "At least I like hotdogs. Oh, and remember to wash your hands. Sorry, I wasn’t able to get any hand sanitizer.”
Johnny stepped in front of the big dial. “How do you think this all plays out?" he posed. He set the dial one more time, this time to ‘Summary.’
Both the red and the green garage doors were open. Somewhat oddly, Hector appeared in both scenes.
From the green garage, Hector spoke, “When society was relaxed about their approach, people continued to gather at events. I was able to sell hot dogs at the tennis tournament and made a lot of money. But after the huge crowds there and other places, people quickly became sick in droves. My abuela died anyway. She couldn’t avoid being exposed. But then I also got sick and I ended up having a heart attack.”
Arthur stepped in. “My airline lost a lot of money anyway. Too many people were too sick to travel. We ended up declaring bankruptcy. This happened to so many companies, that a new depression was declared. The only businesses that seemed to thrive was the hand sanitizer business and the toilet paper industry. Go figure.
“After that, everyone blamed the economic slump on the president and he was not re-elected.”
Hector from the red garage then spoke up. “With stringent anti-viral mitigation actions, life was very different for months. All large gatherings were cancelled, even schools. Most people became hyper-fastidious about hand washing. My grandma came down with something serious but she was able to get into the hospital and get the treatment she needed. Now she’s back home and back to nagging me.
“The stock market tanked anyways. Government bailed a number of industries out after their losses. So, the country’s is not as rich as it used to be, but we’re slowly improving. I think I’ll invest in that new vaccine they say is coming out.
“Here’s the weird thing. With everyone going nuts washing their hands all the time, world-wide illness actually dropped for all other infectious diseases. Cases of measles went down, common colds diminished, strep throat was cut in half.
“People began to enjoy outdoor activities they could do in small groups, like biking and hiking.
The numbers of people working from home skyrocketed. They discovered they liked it. They also appreciated spending less on gas for commuting.
“With that, plus the avoidance of air travel, the domestic oil industry became much less dependent upon foreign oil suppliers.
“In short, life is different now. The pace has slowed, but people are happier.“
Frank was mesmerized by the undulating image on the TV.
Ethel broke through his reverie, “Would you like dessert, dear?” she asked.
.
"Oh, yeah. But let me wash my hands first."
"Are you OK, dear? That's not like you." Ethel raised the back of her hand up to feel Frank's forehead.
"You don't have a fever, do you?".