The mechanical arm holding the laser emitted a low buzz as the targeting marker was aligned.
I - Lockdown
With a sudden crack, the townhouse momentarily reflected bright blue light from every corner before turning dark from the oncoming storm. The flash and crack startled Don back to his present reality, on the blue corduroy chair placed squarely in front of the television: his usual place to stay since the company closed down the restaurant.
Don remained unmarried, turning his attention to his career, not as a mere line cook as some may precociously assume when casual American conversation demanded to know his occupation. He was, in fact, the general manager of his location, a long-time company employee. He started in high school as that line cook, but proved himself, seeing the opportunity to take management courses, paid for by the restaurant of course, as a fine alternative to college. He did better than most of his peers, anyway. That was before.
Now nearly everyone he knew was out of work, wasting away in front of their televisions. A few of his friends were able to keep on working from home, if you could call it work. His best friend, Sam, complained that working from home was a distraction, especially after all the schools closed down. The balance to learn to work while perpetually distracted by the joys of family life is a daunting task, but at least Sam still had a paycheck coming in to ward off the mortgage bill.
Most of Don’s friends used the opportunity to clean up their house. Don remembered the last days of freedom, had it only been a month? His restaurant was overrun with customers, to and fro preparing for a variety of choirs, stocking up on previously unsoughtitems…who really needed that much toilet paper anyway? Other items were the paint to finally refresh that old room, or shelves, to organize the garage. Even Don got into this action. The government-mandated break would certainly hurt the pocketbook, but at least he was out of excuses for the laundry list of household choirs. But like all of his friends and neighbors, cabin fever set in within about a week, after the projects were completed. Now he was perched in front of the television with nothing to do. The thunder outside was a welcome change to the regular dreary clouds.
He looked back up, fixing his eyes on the television. The reporter had another update:
The virus is still spreading. It would appear from the continued spread that people are not maintaining the required social distancing, so the government has now issued a new order. Everyone is to remain indoors unless there is an emergency requiring you to leave your house. All essential employees will be given a license to leave their residence. Checkpoints will be established at key positions throughout the state. Do not leave your residence without a license. In the event of an emergency, call your local health department to receive a temporary license number. This new curfew will be in effect starting at 8:00 PM tonight.
Don reached for the newspaper. More news about the virus spreading in the big cities. A few confirmed cases have been reported in Jefferson County, but they were all confirmed and sent home to recover peacefully there. Still, the paper indicated that Jefferson would be the test county for a new ‘early warning’ experimental protocol. The authorities opted to use Jefferson because the virus had not yet spread far into the community including a small city, several country towns and houses. Lacking interest in the next sitcom rerun, he muted the television to focus on the new early warning system as presented in the newspaper press release:
The Mandrake Virus has been spreading across the United States, and other countries, at an unprecedented rate. Scientists around the globe have been working tirelessly to control the spread of the infection. Social distancing appears to be helping the spread in some cases, but nevertheless, the virus continues to spread. One key measure for control is to determine who has been infected by the virus. Jefferson County is pleased to be selected as the first test of a novel product that hopes to identify infected persons so better quarantine measures can be taken.
The new device is a ring which constantly measures your temperature and other vital signs. The Bluetooth connection to your device will connect with the app and notify you if your vital signs indicate you are likely to be infected with the Mandrake Virus. From the app, you can alert the authorities and they will deliver a home kit to prepare an official test.
Each resident’s ring will be delivered directly to their house. The National Guard will help everyone setup the device, so please have your phone ready when they arrive at your door between 9:00 and 6:00 daily. In the event you are an essential employee, you will receive your ring at your place of work.
Don read the article a few times. He focused on the second and third paragraphs the most. He did not need an education on the Mandrake Virus. He, along with every other citizen of Jefferson County, and the state, and the country, and the world, had been receiving a daily crash course in the virus for two months now. It had surpassed education; it was now indoctrination.
A new device that always measures vitals. That might be useful information. Perhaps this would not be a bad thing. But Don caught a problem: He did not have a smart phone. He knew for sure this thing would not connect to an app on his old landline. Yes, Don was not specifically anti-technology, but his formerly regular routine placed him at home, at work, or at church. All making a triangle of travel less that a few miles.
Not that he never traveled. When he did go on vacation, or to visit the folks, or on the short trips to just get out of town, he would borrow an extra phone from Sam. As simple as Don made his life, Sam’s was equally not simple. He worked in technology. He knew about computers, and phones, and teleconferencing. He was a techno-guru. Perhaps the contrast between their two lifestyles was the reason they remained friends for so long. They could share their experiences with each other, giving one another just a taste of the differences between their worlds. For one day a week, every Friday, they would play cards, shoot the breeze, and laugh the day away. He had not seen Sam in a month since the first lockdown was established. At least phone calls still worked, so he picked up his old cordless telephone and dialed Sam from memory.
“Hi Sam. Got a minute?”
“Sure, Don,” his friend replied, “what’s up?”
“I’m reading the newspaper about this new device they want to give out to everyone. Have you seen anything about it?”
“Just what was on the front page of the local news this morning,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair.
“Well, it says here that it needs to connect to a phone app of some kind. What happens if I don’t have a phone to connect to?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, “I am not sure. I really do not want to put another app on my phone. Actually, company policy: I can’t put anything on my phone anyway! The IT department for work needs to approve applications. I am worried about this thing, though. Apps can connect to the Internet. I wonder if this app shares data…I would expect it to if this is a test.”
“Did you see anything about rejecting the test? Isn’t there something in the law about requiring consent to take part in a study?” Don asked.
Sam had not thought about that, but his college ethics courses did indeed teach about human review boards, the application and consent forms, and the rest of the red tape needed for a human trial.
“That’s a good question,” he said inquisitively.
Don heard the click-clack of a keyboard as Sam hammered a question into a search engine. Don heard this sound before, he knew Sam was looking something up, so he let the air remain dead for a period of time, knowing his computerphile-on-call was likely reading an article.
“I found some info here,” Sam finally voiced. He started to read.
In light of the global pandemic, the Ring Relief Project, RRP, was granted emergency status to be deployed across Jefferson County. The project does not require consent because it is a non-invasive device that is worn on the finger. All citizens much comply with the order, exceptions will only be granted by special permit of the research office.
“And there is more here about whom to contact for more information and how the device works,” Sam concluded.
“Is this a little weird to you?” Don asked, still trying to process this whole idea of being part of an experiment for which he did not want to participate.
“Yes, it is,” Sam echoed his own concerns back, “I specifically wonder how it will work when I can’t install their app on my phone.”
“Or the fact that I do not have a phone to install an app on at all!” Don replied back.
“There is that. I guess the best you can do is ask whoever drops this thing off,” Sam said, sounding distracted in the last part of the sentence.
Sam’s office had just been invaded by his two kids, Mike and Alice, playing some kind of tag. Don heard the muffled laughs through the headset as they expended the pent up energy on a rainy day. Don heard the laughing yells of ‘I got you’ and ‘no you didn’t’.
“Ha, ha, ha, sorry about that. The kids are taking a break from the assignments. It looks like I need to go do the dad thing for a while.”
“Alight,” Don said, “Great to talk to you,” and he hung up the phone. He studied the newspaper again, this time with a brick in the pit of his stomach, unable to shake of the malaise of being forced into a county-wide research project without a say.
