It's no surprise, of course. Lots of stories are set during or after such things--I even started a novel with that premise long ago. I've no idea where the files are; I'm pretty sure I backed them up to a floppy disk, one of the smaller newfangled ones. Of course, I have no way to read floppy disks any more, and the last time I looked at it, I decided to pursue other projects.
It's a lot less troubling to contemplate fictional characters having to live (or die) of a flu-like disease that changes everything, either for a little while or forever. I watch the news, hoping for better news, even though I know better.
I've had allergies and asthma since puberty; every time someone I shared office space with got sick, I did too. I've been railing against the social rules that people should work when they're sick instead of staying home and not sharing their germs my whole life, and predicting that a severe virus would be a worldwide personal and economic cataclysm for just as long.
Now, I'm amazed that I'm not among the first sick. And yet, here I am, taking my asthma medicine religiously, and having trouble focusing on, well, everything. And sewing face masks for me and my partner. When I find the sewing machine, I'll make some to donate. A friend of mine linked me to a local hospital's preferred pattern and materials, and where to drop them off once I've made them.
But in the meantime, I pray you all are well and have enough money to survive through this disaster.
And look online for live music. There's an amazing lot of it, live filking on zoom, artists doing concerts or a handful of songs, often via Facebook Live. I always feel so much better after seeing smiling faces at the open filks. It's led me to give big smiles to neighbors when I see them at a distance, hoping to lift their spirits in a like manner.
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