The ramparts were over run, sir
In wartime, the news we broadcast to the general population is very important. It doesn’t have to be factual, but it seves to maintain good spirits. Enough said.
Well, we’ve been at awar with an unseen enemy for more than two years, anod our government has gone to great lengths to convince that we’re doing good (not well, that would be hyperbole). Several times a week, press conferences applauded our efforts. We listened and we maintained discipline. Until today, when we learned that several key measures will be discontunued. No more alerts about “exposure sites”. No more “contact tracing”. You see, we’ve crossed a new in the sand (one of our sandy beaches, I assume). Communal transmission is assumed; if you are here and you have sysmptoms, you have the disease.
So much for Fortress Potato Island. In military terms, this is code FUBAR. All we can do is watch out for ourselves, because the government admits they are powerless. Probably have been for a while, but politicians have a large level of hubris, which is better than any vaccine. Or unavailable booster shot. Speaking of which…
Tomorrow, when I head into another jurisdiction with incomplete documents, I intend to lie like a trooper about everything, while appealing to their mercy. They have better hostpitals and the navy. I’ve heard there are submarined with rebreating apparatus. That should keep my lungs away from an invisible but deadly infection (saw that in a sci-fi movie, I think).
We’re packing a suitcase, and checking it twice. Preparing food supplies for several days. Roadtrip, baby, with none of the fun and none of the normal benefits. I will get to pay a road toll or three, so there’s that.
