I Have Played Enough

May 17,  2020

Day 57

Simple pleasures. Like doing the laundry at home. Troubleshooting the plumbing system. Finding that the leak you thought was there was caused by something else. Perhaps the rain running down the side of the container and being blown across the wonky door seal  and dripping down onto the floor where it then appeared to have been from the washer. Perhaps not. Either way, the washing machine didn’t leak during two loads I did this afternoon, so it’s an open question as to whether there is a problem with it. That’s a step forward in my book. I’ll take it.

Other simple pleasures revolve around examining the numbers for today and doing the math and thinking about the chances…

 

 

1 New case. 5 Recovered cases. Ratio of recovered cases to confirmed and probable cases is 95.5%. Two Zeroes on the board.

….the chances that we have beaten this thing. That I might not catch it. That with continued luck and work, this country may find its way through to the other side and come out stronger and better for having taken bold steps quickly and stayed the course. We shall see.

Going to try to go to Whitianga tomorrow to see what is open. It’s a shorter trip than all the way to Thames so Valerie is coming along. Sun might even be out. You never know.

 

 

An on another subject entirely, to someone with a bone of contention stuck in their throat…

 

 

Two statements, in fact.

 

And…

 

 

A fanatic is someone who can’t change their mind and won’t change the subject. What is it you are doing? If you find yourself wondering, consider this old Buddhist parable and ask yourself whose part you play.

Two monks were traveling together and came to a river where a young woman was waiting, unable to cross because of the strong current. “Will you please help me?” she asks the monks. In spite of a sacred vow he’d taken not to touch women, the senior monk picked her up, crossed the river and placed her on the opposite shore.

The junior monk followed them across the river, angry that his companion had broken his vow. They continued their journey and an hour passed, then two, then three. Finally, the younger monk could stand it no longer: “Why did you do that?” he asked heatedly. “We have vowed we never would touch women.”

The senior monk looked at his partner with patience, understanding and a  little sadness, and replied, “I set her down hours ago. Why are you still carrying her?”

 

Which leads me here…

 

 

And I have.

 

 

 

Thinking Too Much?

May 7,  2020

Day 47

 

People are back to barreling up and down the dodgy road into town even though the road maintenance crew hasn’t devoted any time to grading or spreading fresh gravel for over six weeks. It is slick when wet and dicey when dry and its back to business as usual now. Same in the grocery stores. I’m still the only person wearing a mask and social distancing lingers mostly in people’s memory. You can see them thinking about it when they get a look at me as I pause to wait for them to move or for a space to present itself so that I can go around them. The meanderthals (yes, still spelled with an ‘m’) are back in force, parking their carts on the opposite side of an aisle and then blocking the other half while they compare best values or wonder why they’re there in the first place. Only the checkers with their blue gloves and disinfectant wipes at the ready still hold the line against a complete return to the good old bad old days.

Latest buzz is that New Zealand will be moving to Level 2 some time in the near future. The news is full of stories about what that will look like for travel, the hospitality business, shops, salons, bars and bistros, but no one is saying when the move will take place. Gatherings of less than a hundred people will be okay but no more than that. Sports events will be held but without spectators. Schools will reopen but with some sort of social distancing enforced or implied, whichever turns out to be more practicable. There is still talk of opening the Tasman border so that folks from Oz can visit here and vice versa.

New Zealand has done well so far and more power to us, but I hope the powers that be are keeping a weather eye on the appearance of unexplained community transmission. There’s going to be a fine line between too much and too little control and I hope we err on the side of conservatism.

 

 

Elsewhere in the world there seems to be a deadly fatigue setting in as countries, cities and communities try to come to grips with the fact that the cure (inefficient, poorly maintained and apparently unenforceable lockdown policies) is worse than the disease, literally. In those areas where first steps were not taken quickly enough and clusters of hot spots took hold and grew unchecked, most people seem resigned to taking their chances one way or another. They need to work and shutting down the whole country for the sake of the few young who will die, the larger number of obese people and the even greater number of ‘older’ people destined to lose their lives doesn’t seem to them, at this juncture, to have been worth it. They think all the hospitals know what’s in the wind if they find themselves in a hot zone and no one seems to be thinking about walking in the shoes of the health workers at the front lines of these battles. People are bored and broke, sometimes clueless, often conscientious, tired of being under the gun of Covid-19 and under the thumb of governments telling them what they can and cannot do. Never mind that what they’re being told to do is, on average, fairly sane policy.

 

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In trying to find some clarity re lockdowns versus no lockdowns I found the following Youtube video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdIOvzOfQPc on the subject. I am not buying into any of the conclusions made in it nor am I saying you should watch it. I only put it in here to show you the producers take on the two sides of this still flipping coin. I did read all 223 comments and found them to be most interesting. We are still in the early days.

Speaking of days, here are this one’s numbers…

1 New case. 16 Recovered cases. Ratio of recovered cases to active case is 89%. Two Zeroes on the board.

 

 

 

 

So what is the answer? Is it lockdown hard and make it work, as New Zealand appears to be on track for?

 

 

Or is it what some might say is the more sensible, real world, solidly pragmatic Swedish approach?

 

 

 

Which one you believe is more effective will probably depend greatly on your age and/or whether you have other traits that increase your susceptibility to the Covid-19 virus. I’ve been living the New Zealand plan and I like my odds, now and in the future. I hope for the very best for Sweden, but I have to wonder at the cost. As for the American plan(s), well, I’d rather not say.

 

 

 

(Carol, Russell? You guys okay?)

 

Darkness Falls

Some of you may have seen that Mauna Kea is in the news lately because of an ongoing attempt by protesters to stop the construction of the Thirty-Meter-Telescope. The issues in question can be found by searching the web carefully, but be careful to research thoroughly as there are many conflicting viewpoints out there. As an employee of one of the existing observatories on the summit, I have been counseled by admin to keep an open mind and be professional in the expression of my opinions. And so I have. This weeks story for Friday Fictioneers is based on my own photo prompt and speaks my mind quite clearly.

It is longer than normal by 58 words and for these I make no apology. I have been spot on for months and will be absent from the mix for some time to come so I hope you will tolerate my overage. If you do not want to read more than 100 words, you’d better stop 68 words ago.

Thanks to all who read on. See you down the road a bit. Aloha, D.

 

(Copyright Douglas MacIlroy)

A mob is coming to destroy what might have been their salvation. They listen to reply, not to understand. They want to watch the world burn.

Mauna Kea is sacred. But not for the reasons they claim. The Universe unfolds, light dances eternally and the majesty of Nature gives not a tinker’s damn about man’s gods. The mountain was here long before they arrived, guided, ironically, by their elder’s knowledge of the stars. It will endure long after they are dust.

Mauna Kea is sacred. Unlike the mob, I have learned this through direct experience over five years of glorious sunsets, cold, clear nights and solitary dawns. Cloaked in false pride and righteousness, ignorance is on the march against the inexorable tide of knowledge.

I lock the doors and wait. Someplace has to be the backwater of science and education in the world. It might as well be Hawaii. This will be their legacy.

If you listen carefully you can hear the stars laughing.

 

 

Vampires From the Sky!

 

 

Not really.

 

 

(I kept it short because stories with this subject matter tend to bite. Thanks to Kelly Sands for the other-worldly picture.)

Exodus

100 words for Friday Fictioneers, a tribe of writers wandering the desert, treading on broken tablets and trying the patience of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our navigator, cat herder and Moses of sorts (Pharaoh, too, if you think about it) based on a photo prompt below from the inimitable Ted Strutz.

 

Copyright Ted Strutz

 

I used to shake my head at believers. Ignorant fools with an unshakeable conviction in the existence of the supernatural. Eternal life, sacrament of blood, crucifixes, legions of disciples; mumbo-jumbo from people too stupid to think for themselves.

During a routine exam of a new patient, my last, I became convinced otherwise. It wasn’t the four elongated canines and a pair of exaggerated masseter muscles so much as the deep pools of his eyes that transformed me into the living embodiment of a fervent believer.

I intend to remain that way.

The next ferry leaves in a few minutes.

 

 

 

 

Two Wolves and a Sheep vote on what to have for Dinner

A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers, a restive flock of writers shepherded loosely by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, based on the photo prompt below provided by Sandra Crook.

This is a story that has been written many times. To prove my point there are at least four clues in this version that point to a previous incarnation. If you find them all I challenge you to then examine the events of the last fifteen years with the same attention to detail. Then return to your grazing.

 

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Heinrich Luitpold, head of the DHS Border and Transportation Security Directorate sat in the back of his bullet-proof BMW and smiled as his driver fumed. The conference recently held in headquarters suite 1-C had yielded an action plan that would lead at last to a final solution.

In 2019 increased fees charged by TSA to travelers would finance new uniforms and prominent, respect worthy badges. By 2022 agents would be given arrest powers and weapons. In 2025 the mandatory registration and RFID chipping of all citizens would commence.

“Relax, Franz,” said Heinrich, “We are no longer concerned with the sheep.”

 

 

The Department of Homeland Security Border and Transportation Security Directorate is the actual name of a department of our government.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” – Edmund Burke

“Don’t rejoice in his defeat, you men. For though the world stood up and stopped the Bastard, the Bitch that bore him is in heat again.” – Bertold Brecht

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Admiralty Law

Here is a sea story of 100 words for Friday Fictioneers, a loose confederation of Raftbuilders, be they Captains or landlubbers, from around the world, who each week build a raft, inspired by the picture below, to carry us for a few minutes upon Oblivion’s shimmering tides.

(I once had an off duty policeman try to order me to do thus and such while I was Master of a passenger vessel in near coastal waters. I told him to take a seat and keep quiet or I would take him to the pier and arrange for him to have an opportunity to speak with his on-duty brethren about his conduct aboard my vessel. I also threatened to have him married to the guy sitting next to him unless he settled down. Admiralty Law. A powerful tool in the right hands.)

“Six hours and we haven’t caught a thing!”

“It’s a hard life,” replied Salvattore Testa, Master of the Loon Asea, out of Sandy Hook, New Jersey.

“I want my money back.”

“How’s it feel to want?”

“You can’t…”

“Every charter there’s someone who thinks he’s God’s gift to the ocean. Drinks, pukes, talks too much and wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do if he found himself suddenly swimming out here.”

“…..um….”

“Couple of things. There’s a reason it’s called fishing instead of catching. Your money pays for safe passage and I’m still earning it. Don’t tempt me otherwise.”

 

 

 

 

Garden Party

Here is a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneeers based on the photo prompt supplied by our bus driver, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The picture has a box for everyone. I’m in the one with the little green note asking; Please, must you laugh incessantly? Or perhaps I live one down to the left, forever being told to not spit on the sidewalk. Depends on your POV. This prompt is a writer’s paradise. Enjoy.

“Mom, are there such things as Zombies?” I asked.

“Only in books and movies, dear.”

“If they’re not real then why do people write about them?”

“I don’t know, dear. I think it has something to do with confronting one’s fears.”

“Is there a Santa Claus?”

“No, my love.”

“Easter Bunny?”

“No.”

“God?”

“Of course not, sweetheart, but never say so in mixed company.”

“What about all the people that go to church?”

“It is enough that you know that they believe it with all their hearts.”

“Mommy, are there Vampires?

“Hush up and eat your soup before it clots.”

Because Freedom is Dangerous

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, a gathering of writers from around the world who meet each week in Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s cyber garage  to share their 100 word inspirations based on photo prompts such as the one shown below from Dawn.

This week’s picture is of Union Station in Washington, D.C., a city created by Congress to keep the nation’s Capitol distinct from the states and to provide for its own protection. (Seems they were doing then what they do so well now. Go figure.) It  is also famous for harboring a disproportionate population of vermin whose actions are the subject of my story. (I’ll let you know my cell number as soon as I’ve settled in.)

“Destination, sir?” the TSA agent asked.

The elderly man standing trackside looked his interrogator up and down, taking in the blue and gray uniform rife with none too subtle bells, buttons, whistles and decals.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m a Visible Intermodal Prevention and Response team member. We’re authorized to….”

“Visible Intermodal what?”

“VIPER Team, sir.”

“Has it crossed your mind how ridiculous that sounds?”

“The Department of Homeland Security chose the name.”

“Ever wonder who chose theirs?”

“Your destination?”

“My ticket says Denver, but it’s looking more and more like Lubyanka Square, Moscow. ”

“Please come with me, sir.”