by Glenn Thaxton, Written August 2020

In the seventh month of COVID-19, during the reign of our 45^th Resident of the White House, Dongle T Rump, in the year 2020, I woke up in a small hamlet – Lockdownia. The residents of Lockdownia, of which there are two, pay tribute to three governmental bodies: the nearest township, Dallas, the province of Texas, and the country of the United States of America. Other than the tribute and the incompetence it supports, life is otherwise good within its walls.

Lockdownia is one of the remaining places where science is valued. We watch the stars not to determine our astrological future, but to track satellites, eclipses, and the occasional comet. We believe the earth is round. We do not believe there is a conspiracy by aliens to infect our medicines with their DNA. We do not believe that vaccines are chips read by 5G to know our thoughts. We get vaccinations and tend to our health under the advice of doctors, not witch doctors or politicians but those with the proper credentials.  Further, we prefer ‘farm to table’ food over ‘can to table’.

Views of scientists at the peak of their field and those with current publications carry weight in Lockdownia.  Politicians who were doctors or who have an uncle who was a doctor are lumped together as sources of fake news and treated as irrelevant.

We do believe in witches, the kind that refuse to wear face masks and throw things when asked to do so. Although we have never burned witches in Lockdownia, we have sympathy for anyone who would like to do so.

Lockdownia is composed of several localities. One, known for its cuisine, is called “Isla de Cocina”. A noticeably quiet district is a short walk from Isla De Cocina and is known for its excellent sleeping conditions. It is called “La Chamber de Sommeil”. When I am feeling academic, I visit the Bibliotheca it houses books of every kind. I occasionally walk to the region of “Salle d’Exercise” to work off a day of frustration.

One corner of Lockdownia is where people congregate virtually to meet their minimally required social interactions, and another area is where one can contribute labor hours in support of the community.

Human interaction is not a rarity in Lockdownia’s despite its isolated condition. However, those social interactions lack touch and proximity – two things I failed to value appropriately before moving to Lockdownia.

The entertainment district is the most often visited. This is where governmental information is communicated to the citizens of the hamlet. This neighborhood is responsible for the most rage. It stands as a miracle each day that it continues to exist.

Lockdownia is made of other lessor, yet important, localities. These are not listed in the interest of concision.

There are no beauty parlors or barbershops in Lockdownia. At the beginning of the pandemic, this was an aggravation. However, now that I have hair to my shoulders, I am rethinking hearing aids as they can no longer be seen. Eventually, there will be something to hear.

The entire hamlet of Lockdownia is solar-powered while getting its water and gas from the township of Dallas. The hamlet has attempted its own water supply, but the surrounding municipality would not allow it to do so.

Lockdownia is surrounded on one side with half-tended gardens and a pool of water occasionally used by its citizens to escape the summer heat and to float in its tepid waters while gazing into the canopy of trees above. The gardens have the obligatory number of butterflies and bumblebees and are occasionally graced by lightning bugs. Squirrels, rabbits, and a variety of birds also provide entertainment while eating the garden tomatoes to the aggravation of the residents.

I frequently remind myself how lucky I am to be debt-free and have no financial requirements that force me outside of the hamlet. On occasion, that gratitude carries me through the boredom I experience.

Governance of the hamlet is documented as a shared responsibility, yet evidence is to the contrary. The female member of the hamlet appears to wield the most power due to the blasé mindset of the male.

In Lockdownia, time is irrelevant. There is only pre-now, now, and post-now. Days of the week have lost relevance for one of the residents requiring him to lookup month and day periodically (sometimes to the aggravation of the other village habitant).

Stress of living in Lockdownia comes more from processing news from outside its walls than it does in coping with daily activities.  Broadcasts arrive daily announcing the number of deaths due to the pandemic and Dongle T. Rump’s assurance that it will soon be over, while the science community says otherwise.

Lockdownia is a pleasant and safe hamlet. Yet, for those of a more adventurous spirit, it is often haunted by boredom. Days are much the same, and some have considered tree climbing and shopping in the neighboring community to add an element of risk.

My job in Lockdownia requires me to travel from locality to locality throughout the day, tending the needs of the hamlet. Thankfully, all the districts are within walking distance. As I move from location to location, I pick up mail and distribute it to the appropriate parties. I also pick up the occasional popcorn and renegade chip to ensure they are processed appropriately. When time permits, I handle the logistics, making sure food and other required household products are delivered within a reasonable time frame. There is no pay for this job. It is done as a contribution to the greater good of Lockdownia.

Even with the responsibilities outlined and the harmonious atmosphere found in Lockdownia, I long for the freedom to hop on a plane and fly to a beach in the Caribbean, or a sunny village in Southern France, or maybe just go to a neighborhood restaurant and eat inside.

This week I’ll wash the sheets on Wednesday instead of Thursday. Then I’ll put on my tie-dye t-shirt and stage a protest in the middle of the hamlet. Afterwards, I’ll go to the garden area and run through the sprinkler with chilly water landing on my sweaty body. While there, I’ll catch a butterfly and let it go. I’ll…

RING! RING! RING!

“Hello.”

“Hello, how are you today?”

“Surviving on daydreams.”

“I am a representative of the Senior Life Insurance Company. I’ve tried calling several times with no answer. I just want to take a moment of your time. Can I interest you in life insurance?”

“What life?”

Click.

Why did he hang up? I was just getting started.

Oh yes. I remember, I live on Mars in virtual reality. A place where every day seems the same…