Craving Normalcy

Reggie Lang - April 1, 2024

How did I get here? That's a long story, and even if I tell it, there's no way anyone will ever read it. But heck, there's nothing else to do, and I've got time to kill.

It all began when I walked into my local, ready for my appointment with Tom, our union's business agent. I'd always liked Tom, he'd been there when I started my plumbing apprenticeship right out of high school and was always straight with me. I'd been working as a journeyman for about a year and wanted to move toward the next step in my plan. Master plumber was where the money was, and I was ambitious. I could get by on my journeyman's salary, but I wanted more. I had grown up being told I looked like a movie star, strong-jawed, tall and built. I've always had it easy; I could get any girl I wanted to fall for me, and most guys liked hanging with me. I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, but whatever it was, I knew it would take money, and I decided to build up my savings while I figured it out.

Tom was typing at his desk when I opened the door. He was a jowly guy who bragged about his football days from high school. He turned off his monitor when he saw me and motioned me to the chair across his desk.

"Reggie, come in and sit down."

I walked over and sat in the chair across from him. "Hey Tom, what's up? With this contract ending, I'm looking for my next gig. I wanted to know what you'd recommend me for."

Tom sat back in his seat and looked at me soberly. "I don't have anything for you kid. Sorry."

I felt like a truck had run over me. "What?" I didn't know what was happening. "But why?"

"Kid, they're trying to break us. My guess is they're gambling Trump will win, and they won't need to honor our bargaining agreements at all. They haven't hired a union member in years; everything went to contract. And now, when the contracts are ending, they aren't renewing. So I've got nothing, not for you, not for anyone. I'm sorry." ₍₁₎

My mind started racing, and I was just about to regain the ability to form a coherent sentence when he said, "I want you to hear me, and I want you to understand. These companies are letting contracts expire and not renewing them, which means you can't collect unemployment; they're hoping you take a non-union job, and then they'll be able to pay you less and keep your benefits low.

"Now, I understand the pressure, but let me be clear. If we ever find out you've worked a non-union job, you'll be kicked out of this union's membership, and we'll make sure every other union knows." He must have seen me get irritated because he told me, "I'm not saying I think you'll break ranks; I'm saying the same thing to everyone."

It was a nightmare; I felt outside of myself. Somehow, I left the office and the union hall; I don't remember driving home, but I must have because the next thing I knew, I was lying on the couch, just willing my heart to slow down and trying to figure out my options. I had no idea how long this situation might last, so I had to find a job to keep me afloat. I understand York isn't exactly an up-and-coming city, but my family had lived there since Pennsylvania was a colony; it was all I knew. My only real job skill was plumbing, which meant if I stayed here, I'd be applying for an entry-level position somewhere, probably working around all those poor people who didn't speak English. Those places paid close to minimum wage, about four times less than I had been making. I'd have to move out of my apartment and rent a room somewhere. It was my only option if I wanted to stay in York, and it was crap.

I'd moved out of Mama's when I was twenty and lived in a place with a few other guys. I moved into my place as soon as I finished my apprenticeship and got my pay bump. I liked living on my own a whole lot better, so if I wanted to make enough for an apartment of my own, I'd have to find a job away from York. A thought popped into my head, and I grabbed my phone, brought up Facebook and started searching. Jake had been a few years ahead of me in high school and then in the training program. He'd moved somewhere up north, and now and then, I'd see something from him pop up on Facebook; we weren't friends but had mutuals, so I sent him a message.

I scrolled through Jake's Facebook page. It was filled with him and his wife, an absolute knockout and their kid. I looked at the pictures and videos he posted of them having fun. It was the American dream right down to the white picket fence; they all looked so happy. The knot in my stomach began loosening and I hoped things worked out. I did some math, too. If they offered me what they offered Jake, and if I didn't have to spend any money to live, I'd come out of this with a cool half million to play with. More than enough to finance whatever I wanted to do afterward.

Things never turn out the way you dream, do they?

The next few weeks flew by, and soon I found myself on a bus to Washington, DC. Jake had been right. I'd been invited to an orientation in Philly and gone straight away. They wouldn't let me in the door until I signed an NDA. It meant I couldn't even tell Mama where I was headed even if I decided not to go. I'm not stupid; I signed. I hadn't driven over two hours just to walk away from this opportunity.

I was polite, like Mama taught me and wore a mask the right way all day, just like Jake said. The orientation had been weird, with more staff around than people and all of them trying to talk with me in between the sessions, and there were a lot of sessions. Most of them were boring, with some person up front blah blah blahing, and it all went right out of my head as fast as they tried to cram it in. A few bits stuck, like the fact the city was underground. According to the video, people lived there since the 90s. I'd never known anything about it! At first, I wasn't keen on living and working in an underground city, but when they showed us videos of what it was like living there, it was exactly like I'd seen on Jake's Facebook. So I muscled through it, and the mask hid my yawns.

Once all the sessions were finished, they offered me a contract, and I flipped through it. My eyes caught the offer first; it was exactly what Jake had been offered. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I started flipping through the pages, scanning over the boilerplate, looking for how payments would be handled and keeping my eye out for those benefits Jake had mentioned. Sure enough, the subsidies, as the contract called them were all spelled out: housing, food, medical, even education for kids.

Then the contract got weird, but in a good way for me. Most contracts talk about invoicing, how long to pay, and all that, but this one was amazing. The entire amount for all five years of the contract would be placed in escrow when I started their version of quarantine. Monthly increments would be transferred to my account so long as the contract was in force with any balance remaining at the end, transferred entirely over to me. It looked like a win for me; as long as I was working, they couldn't close the escrow account. I signed it and everything else they put in front of me. I wanted what Jake had!

Okay, honestly, I didn't exactly remember any of the boring stuff they talked about, but luckily, they sent us home with a list to follow. I gave up my apartment, arranged to put my car in storage and wore a mask as I left a hotel room near the bus station at fuck-all o'clock the morning of. I hated wearing masks; ever since the damned pandemic started, I had to wear one constantly whenever I was working.

It was one of the few bits I remembered from the orientation; we'd been told we'd never have to wear a mask once we were out of quarantine. It would be like the pandemic never happened, and I could just live a normal life.

I mean, it sounds perfect, right? They'd pay me to stay in quarantine, and compared to the unvaccinated idiots, I'd only have to do it for three weeks. And after I was out, it would be into a world where everything made sense again; none of this social distancing, mask-wearing, constant testing crap.

It was still pretty early when I got off the bus under a cloudy gray sky. I grabbed my duffles, hunched my shoulders against the breeze and started walking. I hadn't been to DC since I was a kid on my middle school trip. I'd been bored back then and I was just as bored now. I guess the outside of Union Station is nice if you like white stone buildings. I walked past boring museums, monuments and offices, everything in shades of blah.

Chinatown was easy to recognize; there was this huge, colorful, Chinese-looking arch I had to walk under. Once through it, I kept walking, and the further I went, the unhappier I got. Even though it was early morning, there were people outside, some sleeping on the sidewalk, others walking around slowly, looking like they had nowhere to go. I made sure I had a tight hold on my duffel bags. Poor people squicked me out, and I hoped no one would come up to me for a handout; I didn't want to do anything my mama had taught me not to. ₍₂₎

Luckily for anyone who might have jumped me, I found my bus without having to deck anyone, parked right in front of a homeless shelter, another bland, colorless building. I loaded one of my bags in the outside compartment beside the driver, standing and checking everyone off. Once he gave me the go-ahead, I hopped in. It was the fanciest bus I'd ever been in, high enough to walk through without feeling like I should duck, and the seats were comfortable with plenty of legroom. The bus was still pretty empty when we pulled out, with maybe twenty people. Some were sitting together, others, like me, sat alone, and every damned one of us was masked.

Once the bus pulled onto the road, a guy in the front stood up and said, "Hi, everyone. I'm Mitch, he/him and I want to welcome you. We're about seven hours out from our destination for tonight. We don't stop, but there's food and drinks in the front and restrooms in the back. We've got chargers under each seat and wifi is available to everyone. Please, except when you're eating or drinking, keep your masks on at all times."

I noticed the driver was enclosed in plexiglass and guessed it was to stop a hijacking. I thought about what I would do if someone did try to hijack the bus. I knew I'd be in the middle of it. I'd been a linebacker for chrissakes! I'd come in beneath the guy's reach, grab the gun and send him to his knees. I loved the thrill these fantasies gave me, the ones where I knew I was in control. But fantasies get old after a while, and there wasn't much to see; all the window shades were down. Even if they weren't, who cared about looking at the endless banks of trees lining I-95? So I settled down for a snooze and was perfectly happy to keep going, except someone woke me up and tried talking with me. I was polite, just like Mama taught me, but I made it obvious I wasn't interested in talking much, and finally, I was left alone and got back to napping.

I woke up to a general stirring; everyone around me was standing up and getting their stuff together. I looked out my window and saw we were in an underground garage. Mitch kept the door closed while he gave us our marching orders: "We'll stay here tonight and be on our way in the morning. We're going to ask everyone to stay in their rooms under quarantine. You'll find a menu for both dinner and breakfast. Please keep your masks on until you're in your rooms."

He began handing out room keys as we slowly got off the bus. We walked through the empty and mostly dark lobby and found the elevators. The hallway lights were dim as I walked through them to my room, and I thought the whole situation was creepy. It wasn't so bad once I was inside; the room was bright and clean, and I even saw a folded-up treadmill in the corner. I decided it was a fine place to hunker down for the night. I ordered steak and fries for dinner and breakfast sandwiches for the morning and pounded out a quick workout on the treadmill. After dinner, I hooked up my Xbox and played Call of Duty; not a bad way to spend the time.

I woke up early and heard a knock at the door as I left the bathroom. A cheerful voice informed me it was "testing and breakfast." Once I opened the door, I couldn't tell if the person in front of me was a guy or a girl. They looked like someone straight out of one of those killer disease movies, complete with a full-on hazmat suit and headgear. Damn, these people were serious. I decided he must be a guy, no way would anyone let a woman volunteer for something requiring getting suited up like this.

He must have noticed my face because he said, "Yeah, we have to dress like this to make sure we stay virus-free. It's not comfortable, but I'd hate to need to quarantine every time I go back home."

I wanted to know more, "You mean you live there? Where we're going?"

I couldn't tell if he was nodding in the suit, but he said, "Yeah, man, I do, but I don't have time to talk right now." He took my temperature and swabbed me. I always hated when they dug around in my nose, I couldn't wait until I never had to go through it again. He gave me my breakfast: two sausage and egg sandwiches with melted cheese, hash browns, orange juice and coffee. "You've got some time; the bus leaves in an hour with everyone who's virus-free."

By the time we left the underground parking lot, the window shades were all up, and I could see a sign in front of the building, "Watertown Inn." We turned left out of the parking lot and were on NY-12 in no time. I settled myself down for the last part of the trip.

Mitch got on the speaker again, "We're about three hours out from our final destination, folks. I hope you got enough breakfast. There's no food for this leg, and we're asking all of you to please keep your mask on at all times."

I started thinking quarantine wouldn't be so bad if it were anything like yesterday. There was decent chow and a way to blow off some steam. I got to kick butt in one of my favorite games, and I'd be making a sweet salary the whole time. I'd be well rested and ready to go by the time I started working. I could handle it for a few weeks. And the guy who'd come to my room earlier had seemed pretty cool. He'd even apologized for the whole virus horror flick costume. If being in quarantine meant I'd never have to wear a suit like that or a mask again, I'd be a happy man. Being able to live my life the way I did before the pandemic had been what sealed the deal for me.

Once Covid became a thing, it got pretty weird. Almost everyone around my town kept saying it was nothing, just a cold. "Nothing to worry about," they said. But my grandma Ginny died from it that very first summer. She had been in a nursing home, and once someone brought it in, well, it swept through like an out-of-control fire. A lot of people in the home got sick, not even counting the staff. Grandma was one of the first ones to die. We couldn't even go see her. It was hard on Mama and on me. I remember watching the news and hearing some guy in Texas telling us it was okay the old folks died from it; that somehow, by dying, it meant they were willing to sacrifice themselves for us all. It was stupid; someone can't take a virus for the team; you either catch it or you don't. ₍₃₎

I remember the last video call the nurses did for Grandma Ginny and us. She was crying and saying she didn't want to die alone. Mama held it together while we were on the call, but right after we cut off, she bawled like I'd never seen. I was pretty upset, too. Once the vaccines came in and we were eligible, I dragged Mama right along with me; I didn't want either of us to die. I didn't give a flying fuck what those idiots on YouTube were saying. ₍₄₎

And that included Trump. Damn, people were stupid; at first, it had almost been funny to hear folks spouting the same crap he spewed on live television or Twitter day after day. Horse dewormer, bleach injections and sunlight up the ass, that's what he was promoting, and damn if there weren't idiots who believed him and did it. Guess what happened to them? They either died of the treatment, or Covid got them anyway. As much as I wanted to laugh at them, I just couldn't. ₍₅₎

It was easy to see Trump didn't believe in anything he was saying. When he came down with it, he was airlifted to one of the best hospitals in the world and given the best medical treatments available. No bleach in his veins, thank you very much, no matter how much he promoted it to the zombies who thought he was the second coming of Christ. ₍₆₎

I mean, I didn't like him personally, but I voted for him twice! After knowing what I did about Hillary and how evil and power-crazed she was, there was no way I could ever vote for her. And back then, I thought Biden was even worse. All the stuff with Ukraine and getting rich from China, not to mention getting away with hanging onto classified documents, which is the same thing they charged Trump with. I would have voted for Trump a third time, even with all the crap everyone was saying about him. I didn't want to risk another four years of a Democrat in the White House; all they wanted was to turn us into a socialist nation. ₍₇₎

I started thinking about the next four years and realized I didn't care who'd be the next old guy in the White House. I'd be busy using my time to shine in this new contract, this new place, this new life. I was going to be living in an underground city. I couldn't wait for the day I could casually throw that fact out; girls would go crazy for it. During the orientation, they explained how everything in the videos looked like people were outside because videos of the sky played on the concave ceiling. They called it a sky dome and said after living there for a few days, it would feel natural; it sure looked pretty real to me. It reminded me of some old sci-fi movies with running paths, grass and fun things to do. Best of all no need to cook; there were places I could eat for free three times a day! I knew I could have a fun five years and make a lot of money at the same time.

Jake and I had talked a few times since the orientation. He told me the work was mainly residential at first, and after a few years, if I wanted, I could transfer to a specialty like construction. It was all pretty easy, he told me, and even though the actual time spent working was twenty hours a week, all that sweet, sweet money would still transfer to my account just as if I worked forty. Complete health care benefits and a place of my own were provided, and there was a lot to do in the off hours. The guy painted it as close to paradise as someone living could get. I didn't know if it was as great as he was making out, but I knew I'd love it even if it were half as good.

I was fully immersed in my oh-so-pleasant daydreams of what lay ahead when some brat behind me started screaming their head off. The parents did nothing, just let him. If it had been my kid, let's just say no kid of mine would ever keep screaming once I gave them something to scream about.

We followed a river for a way until we ended up on a highway, and once we were off that, we were on a road that wound around some and gradually dipped into a tunnel. After my eyes adjusted to what, at first, seemed like total darkness, I saw a thin line of yellow lights on each side, the lights curving with the bus. I watched as we pulled into a bright, big cave filled with parked trucks and forklifts moving around them. We drove through a deep-ass doorway, and the light dimmed as we reached the other side. I realized I'd lost all sense of direction.

I felt the bus stop, and Mitch stood up again. "We're here, folks, welcome to North American Habitat East, or NAHE as we call it. We are currently sitting on top of our central platform tube, which moves vertically through the entire cylindrical structure we call a habitat. Our quarantine procedures require we stay on the bus until we're on the receiving floor of our quarantine village. Once you're off the bus, you'll be funneled to a corridor with a bunch of doors. Find the one with your name on it, and inside, you'll find instructions for our decontamination procedure. Parents, it's your responsibility to make sure your child follows the same procedure. Once you're showered, you'll find a self-contained hazmat suit with detailed instructions and a video, should you need it. Just follow the instructions, and you'll be fine.

"Our quarantine procedures require that everyone wear these suits at all times on the residential floor outside your residence. Today, you'll probably wear it for 45 minutes at most. Leave your bags; they'll undergo their own decontamination process before we deliver them."

I wasn't happy leaving my Xbox behind as I left the bus and followed the person in front of me. We walked through a plastic-lined tunnel, once again reminding me of every virus-destroys-mankind movie I'd ever seen. We ended up in a bright corridor with doors on the other side. I found my name, and when my door opened, I stepped inside. I was in what looked like a regular private shower room at the gym with a door on the opposite wall and the shower on the wall to my left. To my right, I saw instructions on the wall and a hook holding a bag. I followed the instructions, peeling down to nothing and shoving my clothes in the bag, writing my name on it with a pen I found dangling on a string behind it.

Once I was in the shower, I soaped myself up good and let it sit for five minutes, just like the instructions said. I didn't mind; the room was warm and slightly steamy, so it wasn't a challenge.

Clean and dried, I went through the next doorway and in front of me, hanging on the wall, was another bag and a hazmat suit. Between the two, I saw a small screen showing a button with the words "Suit Instructions." Below the screen was another set of printed instructions. I put on the soft shirt and pants I found in the bag before checking out the suit. It was the ugliest and clumsiest thing I hope never to wear again—pure white PVC with a "Level A" emblazoned in black on the front. I read the instructions on how to get into it. It was intense; there was an air tank inside with a hose attached to the helmet. It took me a while to figure out how to get into it and get hooked up, but I managed.

Everything felt weird once I was in the suit. I felt separated from the rest of the world. It was like I was in my own space, seeing what was happening but not able to touch or connect with anything outside. Walking was hard; I felt clumsy, couldn't see my feet, and the shoes in the suit felt big and clunky. The material felt weird against my skin, crinkly and slightly unpleasant, and the helmet was screwing with my depth perception.

I saw a button to the side of another door with a red light above it and pushed it. The light turned green, and the door opened into an even smaller room with another closed door at the other end. I didn't have much of a choice, so I stepped in, and the door closed behind me. I could feel a breeze all around me, which got stronger, and I wondered if I would get blown around. After a minute, it subsided, and I felt the air around me pulling away. I was happy for that air tank then, let me tell you.

Finally, the pressure around me felt normal again, and I hoped whatever had been happening was done. The door in front of me opened, and I walked into another long corridor and saw everyone else standing around, all of us in these hazmat suits. Most of the suits looked like mine, plain white, but others had a broad black stripe around their waist and down the outside of their arms and legs. I figured whoever was wearing one of those suits had to be someone. I walked to the closest black stripe and peered into their mask.

"Name?" The face in the suit looked to be a girl around my age. Cute too.

I gave her my best smile, "Reggie Lang. And your name is?"

She ignored my question, checked my name on her tablet and said, "Reginald, good to meet you; welcome to NAHE. Find someone dressed like me under the number three, and they'll take you to your quarters." She turned to the person next to me. "Name?"

I shrugged, she was cute and all, but what kind of person would do this job? I was sure I could do better once I was around regular people. I'd always been able to find friends.

I found five others standing under my sign, one in a suit with stripes who checked me off and said, "Everyone's here; let's go."

We walked through several halls, and I swear we walked right back to where we had been before. The center of the area was now hidden; a shiny tube rose from the floor to the ceiling, covering where our bus had parked. I spotted the tunnel we had walked through earlier; the plastic was compressed and ended a few feet from the tube. Someone behind me cleared their throat, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to see a bunch of sliding doors curving along the wall behind me. Our guide led us into an open elevator, and once the doors closed I could feel it moving us up.

Our ride was short, and when the doors opened, I could see my reflection in the same cylinder appearing in front of me; I thought I looked like an astronaut. Once I looked up, I could see the sun and clouds above me. It sure didn't seem as if we were underground, except for the cylinder we were walking around until we came to an opening. Once through it, I saw a plaza in front of me, which I thought might have gone all the way around. I could see small streets radiating away from us, lined with buildings looking like half-squashed soccer balls glued to the ground. All of them were the same boring white as my suit. Some were taller than others, but otherwise, ugh, ugly. I could hear the guide, "We'll be putting you in these for the three weeks you'll be here. Once we're sure you're virus-free, you'll go through another decontamination and then to the section and floor you'll be living in. Three weeks should go fast, you'll see. Welcome to NAHE."

Someone pointed me to a windowless building. I'll admit, I wasn't feeling too good about my decision right then. But everything we had already gone through had been on the list, and there were no surprises, so I opened the door and went in. The door closed quickly behind me, but I thought nothing of it. The inside was nicer than I expected it to be, but all I wanted was to get that damned suit off.

Once comfortable, I left the suit on the floor and started exploring. The main room had a couch, some soft chairs and a desk against a wall. Nothing else; the walls were pretty bare. Behind the main room was a kitchen and a small dining set. I headed to a hallway on the left, just before the kitchen.

It wasn't really a hallway, more like a small L shape with doors. The bathroom was in the middle, and the room to the right was set up as a bedroom with a bed that fit me; I checked. The clothes in the closet fit me too. There wasn't anything I had sent on or brought, but it was all decent and felt a lot better than the hazmat suit. The other room was a gym, which I thought was cool. There was a treadmill and one of those home gyms with resistance rods and a set of adjustable dumbbells. I was happy. Between my games and this gym, I could have a relaxing three weeks.

I headed into the kitchen, poked around the refrigerator, and found some sliced meats, cheeses, pickles, and my favorite condiments: mayo, mustard, and ketchup. There were no brands; the labels just had the name and ingredients. I found some sliced bread, made a couple of sandwiches, and took those back out to the front room, where I sat on the couch. At least it had some color, being brown. It almost looked like leather, but it was softer, more like a suede.

As I put my sandwiches on the table in front of the couch, I saw a small phone flashing at me. I picked it up, thumbed to answer, and a guy's long face appeared on the screen. His short dark hair was curly, kinky even and defied gravity all on its own. The same gravity defiance could be seen with the barely beard growing on his cheeks and below his nose. He looked like the kind of guy my friends liked to beat up on.

"Reginald Lang? I'm Gerri Lehrer, he/him your Liaison mentor. Welcome to North America Habitat East. I'll be helping you learn about and begin acclimating to the habitat through your quarantine period. But staring at a phone screen for more than a few minutes can be uncomfortable, so I want to teach you how to activate a house video screen. Do you see the remote on the table? Press the power button."

I spotted the remote and pressed the button. He walked me through how to set up a screen and send his call to what he called the interface. Once I pushed the last button, Gerri's face popped onto the wall in front of me, about five feet to my right. His face filled the wall from top to bottom, and I could see every last hair on his face.

"Way too big, man, you're a giant!"

He laughed; it was gross; I could count the teeth in his mouth."Okay, press and hold the microphone on the remote. You can say, 'shrink screen by half,' 'move screen left 3 inches,' and keep adjusting until you're happy."

It took me a while to set the screen to display Gerri on the wall so I didn't want to barf, and positioned so I could see and talk to him comfortably. He walked me through saving the positioning and size for later, and I finally got to start wolfing down my sandwiches while he talked.

"I know today was a pretty long day already, and I won't keep you. But I wanted to go through some of the basics you'll need to know now, like how to order food or find a show or movie you want to watch, how our water works and just a quick outline of what it's going to be like for the next three weeks."

I had my own priorities, though. "Hey man, call me Reggie. When will I get my duffles? And where can I plug in my Xbox?"

"Okay, Reggie. Your duffels are going through the decontamination procedure to be sure we don't bring in any viruses; you should have them in the next few days. We don't have any physical external access points compatible with surface devices, so you won't be able to connect it directly to our network. If you brought a laptop, you could probably use it as a screen."

Damn it, there went a few weeks of missions. I'd sent almost everything ahead, and that included my laptop. I hadn't thought I'd need it until I was out of quarantine. I'd never gamed on it, though, so I'd have to figure out how to connect it, which meant. "How do I get access to the internet?"

Gerri's voice was monotone as he told me, "Once you're out of quarantine, you'll have access to the outside internet. Until then, you can access our internal system, which has plenty to keep you occupied."

I was pissed, but I was also just getting tired of all this and tired of Gerri. All I wanted was to chill and then sleep, but I knew I needed to know about the basics he was talking about. "Okay, so tell me what I need to know."

And he did. He walked me through the interface screen and helped me set it to the operating system I used. Then he started walking me through the menus, pointing out areas I might want to take a deep dive into later. I ignored most of it, but I paid attention when he took me through how to order food. "Delivery once a day, brought by you by the person who'll take your temperature and swab you for your COVID test." He showed me how to access the entertainment library. There were movies, music, series, games and books. There was even a tablet in a drawer I could use instead of looking at the wall for everything. He taught me how to cast a show I found on the tablet back to the wall.

While I tried to figure out how to move his face onto the tablet, he kept talking, "You'll be attending classes through video with your fellow quarantineers, and we'll teach you about living down here. You'll learn how our economy works, how to find activities and make reservations and a lot of other information. By the time you're out of quarantine, you should know how to move around in our society.

"Besides the classes, most of your time is your own. I'm here to answer your questions and be someone who will talk with you whenever you need. We'll usually speak one or more times a day. Until we know you're virus-free, you're quarantined, but you aren't in solitary confinement. Most quarantine groups create social video time to get to know each other and interact virtually. Setting it up will be some of your first class time.

"Before I let you go tonight, I want to discuss our water system. We recycle everything, and I mean everything down here. We're a self-contained biosphere, so we can't accumulate any real waste, including water. Every house has two water reservoirs that are sanitized and reused for a specific period: one for bathroom sinks and showers and the other for kitchen and laundry. Both reservoirs have a trap, which should be cleaned out weekly and your classes will cover how to clean the traps in more detail later. While the water in those reservoirs is technically safe to drink, it tastes awful. Fresh water for oral hygiene, drinking and cooking comes from the potable water station in your kitchen. It looks like a small faucet over a steel strainer. Just make sure you grab a cup of fresh water when you brush your teeth; you'll thank me." ₍₈₎

I couldn't handle more of this today. "Can we pick this up tomorrow? Man, I'm ready to drop."

Gerri smiled, "I get it. Tell you what, just make sure you order your food before 11 tonight. Make sure to order enough for all three meals and some snacks; delivery is only once a day. Ping me when you're ready tomorrow, and I'll go through the schedule in more detail. Have a good night."

Once Gerri's face was off my screen, I did what he said, ordered food, and started looking for a movie. There were two sections in the entertainment menu, 'outside' and 'habitat.' After glancing at 'habitat' where nothing looked familiar, I went to the outside menu and came across a movie, Starship Troopers, made a few years before I was born. It had a bunch of soldiers fighting bugs. It looked like something perfect to chill with, so I settled down to watch.

I got into a routine pretty fast. I found a whole bunch of videos of cool places and started running on the treadmill in the morning, with the video as close to life-size as I could manage and I was usually showered by the time testing and delivery happened. After that was breakfast and then it was time for class.

Classes were held through video and it was always the same people who had come in with me. Everyone had to show their face, so you had to at least look like you were paying attention. I liked the practical classes; we learned how to set up images like pictures on the walls and program the walls and furniture with colors and designs to decorate our space. I liked experimenting with colors and seeing what I liked and didn't like. It helped while away some of the time, at least for a while.

I struggled with everything else, especially when I realized Jake hadn't told me the whole truth about working twenty hours a week. While it was technically true that I'd only have to work twenty hours a week as a plumber, I'd have to give up another ten for what they called Community Tasks. After looking at the jobs I was recommended, I privately named it Community Hell. Dishwashing, farming, recycling, and working in the storerooms were some of them. The worst ones were all the janitorial tasks. I didn't want to be cleaning up after anyone. Heck, after I moved into my place, I had a house cleaner come in every two weeks. I didn't like the requirement, but I'd have to live with it while I was down here; I couldn't bear the thought of half a million dollars disappearing if I left.

At least I wouldn't have to use any of my money down here; I couldn't spend it if I wanted to. They had their own thing with a digital currency called Units. I asked if it was like a cryptocurrency but was told it wasn't since it was tied to the Foundation and administered by the Habitat Administration. These accounts weren't run like a bank; the most anyone could accumulate was fifty thousand units, and you couldn't earn interest. Everyone got a thousand a month and could use that on anything not fully subsidized. Better clothes, different food choices and furniture upgrades were the usual examples. They taught us how to check our accounts and I was happy to see that I already had a drop for the month. Some classes were around earning extra units, but I didn't care about earning anything extra; I wanted to spend what I already had.

Afternoons I'd do a weight workout, and while I waited for Gerri to call, I browsed a cool site called Stores to dream about what I wanted in my house. I looked up the gym equipment I was using; it was a lot, more than I thought it would be. And besides, if I bought a set, where would I put it? My real place would be a one-bedroom, smaller than what I was in now; Gerri had explained the extra room was because of quarantine. So that led me to look for gyms I could go to and places I could run. I even discovered there were rock climbing places.

Gerri and I would talk every day for an hour or so. He walked me through the stuff I signed at the orientation in Philly, like the Charter. Honestly, even after he walked me through it, I didn't think about it too much. I mean, everyone had to treat me nice, and I got free housing, food and healthcare. I could live with that for the five years I'd be here.

It didn't take an idiot to know this place was underground for a reason and was probably built to withstand an atomic bomb. But even that was okay: stay down here safe if something happened, give the surface a year or two to clear up and then go back with my half mill. Heck, if any bomb even came close, it would be aimed at Boston or New York City, not wherever we were, which was probably well north of there. I never could figure out exactly where we were located, but given the road signs I saw when we left the hotel, it had to be somewhere in New England.

I remember asking him how long it had taken them to set up this whole quarantine thing and how they had dealt with it at the beginning of the pandemic as things got really bad. I was surprised by his answer.

"We began planning in 2017, so we were ready by the time Covid hit China in late 2019."

I couldn't believe what that asshole was telling me; they knew about Covid years before it happened! "Gerri, if you all knew about it years before, then it had to be out of a bio-lab, and it was released as a weapon! Why didn't you warn anyone?"

He looked hurt, "Reggie, I can't believe you're accusing us of a global conspiracy. We planned for all contingencies, thanks to 'the Estimate,' which is what we call the timeline Alexandra Hanlon_ predicted for us."

I was still upset, "But why didn't you tell anyone? Was it because Trump was president and you hate Trump?" Suddenly all I wanted was to get out of here and head back to the familiarity of York.

Gerri sighed, "We didn't have anything specific, just a prediction. Heck, you can watch it for yourself; Mirali Lamoré released an entire documentary with clips of the entire prediction and discussions with the people who witnessed it. There wasn't enough there to warrant warning anyone. It was barely enough for Habitat Administration, the Foundation Board and the heads of each Habitat Liasion Group to decide to use it as a deadline so that if the worst did happen, we'd be prepared and able to keep moving people in."

I had a hard time believing this, and I'm sure it showed in my voice: "So some old lady opens her mouth, predicts a major virus will spread around the world in something like three years, and you all decide to listen to her?"

"It's a good thing we did, wouldn't you say? I mean, it did happen. Look at how many have died up there since it started: almost 7 million around the world, and another 400 million have suffered long-term problems. In the eight years since her prediction, we've doubled our population to just about where we need it to be in the event of a catastrophic event, and nearly a quarter have been brought down under these protocols. We haven't had one case of Covid in any part of the habitat outside of quarantine, and the few who did get it all recovered completely and integrated into our communities."

I thought about that, "is it really that many? How about here in the US?"

"1.2 million dead and maybe as many as 12 million with long-covid. It's a lot, way too many." ₍₉₎

"But no diseases down here, right? "

"I didn't say that, but overall, our statistics tell us we're healthier than those living on the surface. We're less stressed, have more time and disposable income to enjoy our lives, better medical care and food. It makes a difference. "

I thought about what he'd just said. I hadn't spent much time thinking about how things out of my control impacted my health. I'd been taught to be self-reliant and that anything that happened to you in your life was by your own hand. If I got sick, it was my fault for not taking better care of the body God gave me, and He was punishing me for it. I wasn't sure I believed everything Gerri told me, but it was a nice fairytale.

The weeks didn't fly by as that guy in the suit had promised. Two weeks in, and I was so damned bored I wanted to scream. I called Gerri one night and just started venting to him. "There's nothing to do; I've watched movies til I'm blue in the face. I don't talk to anyone other than you. I feel like I'm in jail!"

"Reggie, I get it. I do." Gerri was giving me what I called his sympathetic look. "What about the video social group? I know one was set up, and there's usually someone on it this time of night."

"I tried it, but I got nothing in common with anyone. No one wants to talk about things I like, especially with kids around."

Gerri shrugged, held his hands up, then jerked his head slightly, "What about games? I know you can't use your Xbox, but we do have video games here. Have you looked in the library?"

I hooted loudly. "Nope, I looked and can't find anything."

"What do you like? Maybe I can find something similar; I'm happy to try."

Geez, why didn't I think of asking before? He'd been here longer, and he probably knew how to search. "Well, I like football, fighting, adventure and action games."

Did he just wince? Not good.

"Well, we do have football games, but …"

I interrupted him, "Anything labeled football is basically soccer."

"I was just about to say that. American football isn't played down here. It caused too many brain injuries and degenerative issues. The SIGs, which is what we call the Special Interest Groups, got together and collaborated on how intramural sports should be set up, and the proposal made it through the process. So, sports most likely to cause a brain injury or disease aren't played here."

I felt terrible, "so, no wrestling or fighting either?"

"Not as a recreational activity, no."

That sounded like a soft no to me. "So if they aren't part of recreation, where are they used?"

Gerri appeared to sigh and said, "We use it in training." He raised his hand to stop my interruption. "And before you ask, you can't even request to join until you've been living out of quarantine for six months." He continued, not letting me talk at all.

"In terms of the other types of games you mentioned, no one makes them. A few coders tried to create something along those lines, but no one wanted to play, much less license it. Coding a game takes a lot of different skills; why would anyone spend their time on something no one wants to play?"

A wrench had suddenly been thrown into my fantasy of a perfect life. I knew anything I said in response wouldn't get me anywhere with Gerri. But I couldn't help myself. "No football? Not even to watch?"

"Once you're in your section, you can still watch everything from the surface, and if you want, you can subscribe to streaming services using your surface bank account. We just don't have it down here."

I grudgingly decided it was marginally better than my worst fears. There'd probably be somewhere I could find people to watch a game with. So okay, not a deal breaker. Besides, the last time I played was in high school. I didn't even know if they could fit a football stadium. I told myself I just had to concentrate on doing a good job on the contract, meet a cute girl and maybe give her a kid. Then, when the time came, I could show up back home rich with a family. That'd surprise Mama.

"Okay, no football played down here, I get it. But now what? The classes are boring, they're all just talking about how to treat people. Well, my Mama taught me my manners and being polite isn't telling everyone what you have or don't have between your legs when you're first introduced!" I wanted to say more but didn't want to give off a wrong impression.

Gerri sighed again. "I know we've gone through this before, and you're probably tired of hearing it, but it's important, Reggie. It's not about what genitals a person has; it's about acknowledging each other's personal identity. It's polite to refer to a person in the same manner as they see themselves." I started to shake my head, and he kept going. "Look, it's not hard; we both did it when we met. I called you Reginald, and you asked me to call you Reggie. It's the sam"I saw a thin line of yellow lights on each side, curving around." A trip in the tunnel was part of the bus video, and the lights were part of it e thing."

I kept shaking my head. "No, it's not. One is my name, and the other is all this he/him stuff. And you never said anything like that."

Gerri said, "Yes, I did. And the fact you didn't pick up on it and just introduced yourself to me by name told me you were most likely cis-gendered, identifying with the reproductive organs you were born with. Which is how I've referred to you since."

I didn't like it, but I wasn't going to fight, not right now. "Maybe you did, but I don't remember; that first day is a blur. Tell me again, and I'll do my best to remember this time." I meant it, too. I didn't think he would keep pounding it into my skull if it wasn't important out there. When in Rome, after all.

"Okay, one more time. Our personalities, our temperaments, our sexual attractions, everything making us who we are as individuals, exist within a series of spectrums. All of these spectrums wrap together into our personal identities. Historically, though, we've separated ourselves by our external sexual characteristics, and those characteristics are baked into our languages, specifically based on our reproductive organs. And so the language of referencing someone without using their name tends to fall into the use of gender. It's limiting, but it's what we're stuck with for now and it's considered polite to let others know who you are, rather than letting them guess wrong."

"So every time I meet someone, I've got to say Hi, I'm Reggie, and I'm a he/him? It sounds like the breathing thing girls do when they have a kid!"

Gerri corrected me, "You aren't a 'he/him.' Your identity isn't outside yourself; it's an intrinsic part of you. You are Reggie, he/him. Unless I've been misidentifying you?"

"He/him is fine," I was a bit flustered; I mean, whoever heard of choosing who you were inside? You just were. Shouldn't it be obvious? "So what else?"

"If you're in a group, and someone you know joins, introduce them around and use their pronouns in a sentence when doing so. "For instance, if I were to introduce you to a group of my friends, I'd say something like, 'Hey everyone, this is Reggie; he likes sports.' And then I'd introduce everyone else to you in the same way. If you've got an appointment with someone, you can look their profile up on systems, which will tell you their preferred identity. If anyone tells you their identity is more complicated than can be explained in a sentence, just look it up."

I felt what Mama called my stubborn streak coming on. "What if I just called everyone what I thought they were and didn't worry about all this crap? I mean, seriously, who wants to have to think so much?"

"It isn't hard, Reggie. It's a custom here, so it shouldn't take long for you to get used to it. It's polite. How would you feel if you were constantly misidentified? What if someone called you Regina and insisted you were a woman?"

"I wouldn't like it, not at all." Anyone could see I was a guy; it was obvious! Why would anyone call me "her" for chrissake?

"Isn't the golden rule about treating others how you want to be treated?" Gerri asked. "If you don't want others to misidentify you, you shouldn't do it to others either."

He did make a good point. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Gerri brightened, "Today, I want to tell you about the Section you're going to live in, and tomorrow, I'll take you there on a tour."

I practically bounced off the couch, "You mean I'm getting out of here?"

"No, Reggie. I'll be bringing you along virtually. But we can see the different floors and visit your house."

It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't bad either. "Okay, so tell me about it."

"Section 1 is at the bottom of the habitat. It's the first section to be finished and populated, and some of its residents have lived here since the beginning. It still has the highest percentage of habitat-born residents of any other section. Some even worked on building out the first and second sections in the 70s and 80s. It's got its own flavor, more so than any other section. They've also got the best food co-ops. All the different types from all the countries they immigrated from."

I was going to be living around a bunch of immigrants? Not this white boy. "Immigrants? What do you mean immigrants?"

"Where did your family originate from, Reggie?" asked Gerri,

"We've always been here," I answered proudly, "since before the Revolution."

"Did your family come over from England?" asked Gerri

"No, we were originally from Baden in Southwest Germany," I answered, then paused. "You mean you think everyone's an immigrant?"

"Here in North America? Absolutely. Even those who were first here came from somewhere else. And everyone who lives here brought their culture and their foods with them. We've got lots of different food co-ops in every section, but Section 1 has a lot of really fine places to eat!"

We talked longer, and I remembered what Jake told me about his life here. The more we talked, the more excited I got. I promised Gerri I'd research the places I wanted him to take me to in the section I'd live in for the next five years.

I woke up more excited than I cared to admit. I didn't know how Gerri would do it, and I didn't care; I was about to see where I would live once I got out of here. I went through my usual routine, got some snacks and sat on the couch, waiting for him to call.

The screen was black when I answered, and I could only see Gerri in a small box to the bottom right of the screen. "Hey Reggie, I've only got our usual hour to do this, so are you ready for your tour? What do you want to see?"

I had my list ready, "I want to see what the bars and dance club scene is like on the Entertainment floor, I want to see the climbing walls on the Recreation floor, and I want to see where the training you mentioned takes place." I wasn't sure if he grinned or grimaced, but I figured it out quickly.

"I don't have access to the training floor, but I'll be happy to take you to the climbing wall; just don't ask me to climb it!" He laughed at his weak joke and kept talking. "We can also go to the adult entertainment floor, but the bar scene doesn't pick up until the evening. Here we go."

The rest of the screen came to life, and a row of elevators filled my screen. Gerri had me adjust the size and placement until they filled my vision. Holy shit, it was like I was there. I could see Gerri in the little box; of course, he was still talking. "You remember your directions, right? Since your house is in the first slice of the southeast quadrant, you'll probably use elevators here in the inner circle more often than not. Right now, we'll take it up to Entertainment Floor 1, which we usually call Ent 1." We stepped into the elevator and turned around to face the now-closing doors, where I could see screens set up to either side. "The icon for Ent 1 looks like a microphone."

Finally! Information I could use. He kept talking as his hand appeared on the screen, and I saw the microphone just before he pressed it. "We have three recreational and two entertainment floors in every section. There are theaters for live entertainment on both floors. Ent 2 is family-friendly, with small amusement parks, miniature golf, and other entertainment suitable for all ages. Ent 1 is only available to someone who's signed the Charter, meaning they're at least eighteen.

"Once you're there, you'll find gaming rooms of all sorts: video, live role-play and board. There are areas for socializing and appreciation. You can find live music venues, dance clubs, escape rooms and congregate areas, which include places like the bar you've been telling me about. There're other adult venues, but you'll have to find those on your own."

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into what seemed like an early evening. I could see the shiny cylinder and the elevators, similar to what I had seen the first day before I was shut into my quarantine house. The picture moved around the circle, and Gerri kept talking. "We're going to head to the South opening right now." As we walked through the opening, I could see brightly lit and colorful buildings ahead of us. There weren't many people around, so I guess Gerri was right about it not being prime time. "The buildings closest to the elevators are usually the most popular places, movie theaters and game rooms. Most places allowing intoxicant consumption are a bit further in. While you can always hop on a moving walkway, I thought it would be good for us just to walk through and I can give you a bit more of a comprehensive tour."

None of the buildings were impressive, being one or two stories, but they were colorful. He pointed out a movie theater to our right, and I could see it was playing something called "Housekeeping for Beginners." ₍₁₀₎

"We get all the same movies as the surface does and at the same time." We kept walking, and he kept pointing out signs for different activities. Almost everything was closed, and I was getting depressed.

Then we came to what Gerri called "Intoxicants Alley." I saw places allowing different types of consumption, oxygen, cannabis and liquor. And in front of us was a place that looked like the bar I hung out at back home. The sign above the door read "Thirsty's," and it was open.

I asked Gerri to take me inside. The room was paneled in a dark wood, with a long bar to one side with bottles and glasses stacked on shelves on the wall. There were tables scattered around the room, and I saw a few empty pool tables in the back. Screens were showing on a few walls, all turned to stuff I liked, Football and even some car racing. A few guys of different ages were at the bar, filled glasses in front of them. I felt like I could breathe; there was at least one place I could hang out in, maybe even make a few friends.

Afterward, he took me to where the dance clubs were located. Even though they were all closed, at least I'd know where they were. Gerri showed me where the street and building numbers were posted and soon had me figuring out addresses and travel. "Your address is Section 1, Res 1, Southeast, Slice 1, House 2-18. Can you tell me how to get to your house?"

I thought about it and told him, "If I'm already in Section 1, I take an elevator to Residential Floor 1."

Gerri interrupted me, "Also known as the tenth floor if you forget the icon."

I snorted, "How hard is it to remember a house with the number one inside it?"

"Ok, keep going."

"If I'm coming in through the inner circle, I've got to find my way to the south or east openings; my quadrant is between the two. I'm the second street in, house number eighteen."

We returned to the elevators and took one up to a recreation floor set up for the outside. It was bright and sunny here, just right for the time of day, and as we left the inner circle, I finally saw groups playing and running. Adults, kids, and every age in between. We dodged past a few kids kicking a ball and kept walking toward a wall with people hanging on it.

"The climbing walls go almost to the top of the floor, about forty feet high. A cooperative group runs them, and you have to reserve your time." The wall ran for about the length of half of a football field. "They offer roping and bouldering. Closest to us are climbs suitable for young kids, and the rest have climbs rated from 1 to 8 on the Fontainebleau Scale." ₍₁₁₎

It was impressive, the wall just kept going on. A few climbers were in the middle, but the more challenging climbs were empty. I loved rock climbing at my gym and had shipped my climbing shoes. I couldn't wait to get on it.

I heard Gerri saying we were going to my new home, but I tuned him out and watched where we were heading. There wasn't much around, just empty fields and the same people running around as we got closer to the elevators. Once we entered another elevator, Gerri pushed the button next to the first-floor house icon. "There are three residential floors to a section; until the Estimate, we only lived on two floors per section. When we sped up recruitment and needed the space, we had eight additional residential floors available. We were lucky; we opened up the extra floors when we started bringing in more people and never got overcrowded."

When the elevator doors opened, we were still in the sunlight, and Gerri started his tour guide spiel immediately. "Residential floors are twice as high as most other living floors since we spend so much time here. Your house is closer to the southern part of the quadrant so we'll exit over there. Just so you know, there is a medical triage office near the Eastern opening and the Liaison office is the next door over. You'll also find places to pick up necessary items and a few places for snacks and drinks." We kept walking and stepped onto a moving walkway like I had seen in the airport when Mama had taken me to New York for a family reunion.

"We don't have far to go," Gerri told me. "You're in the first slice, which just means a smaller yard. You can move to a different slice after a year if you want more of a yard. In fact, you'll be able to move to any floor or section where an appropriate-sized home is available."

I thought about all the shoveling and mowing I'd had to do in the yard growing up, and I was pretty happy I wouldn't have much of one to take care of. We got off the walkway at the second exit and started walking straight into a neighborhood. There were houses of different sizes, with just a little front and side yard between the path and the door. When we came to a house with the number 18 next to the door, he walked right up to it and let us in.

"Welcome to your new home, Reggie." I studied the room in front of me. It was a similar layout to the one I was in now. The right side was the living room in the front, eating and kitchen areas to the back. I saw a couch, chairs, a few small tables in the living room and a decent dining room set up across from the kitchen. And I saw the boxes I had shipped piled along the walls.

Just like the house I was in now, the hallway to the left existed only to give access to the doors. A good-sized bedroom with a walk-in closet in the front, a bathroom, and a laundry room further back. It was enough for me. "Hey Gerri, can I get the dimensions of the rooms? I'd like to try coming up with some wall designs." I was kicking myself for not asking earlier. With the dimensions, I'd be able to come up with some pretty cool designs and not have to look at boring white walls while I unpacked.

"Sure, Reggie; it should already be in your profile; if you click on your address, you'll see an architectural draft with all the dimensions."

I got excited; I didn't even care when Reggie told me he had to get back to his office for another appointment. I finished my snacks, loaded the dimensions into the design program and got to work.

The last days dragged until it was finally the night before my quarantine was over. I had to pack everything I brought with me back into my duffel bags, and then I had to wrestle those into these weird rubbery bags that just kept trying to stick together and had to be peeled apart. It wasn't easy, and I had to leave everything outside the front door before 11 pm.

For what was hopefully the last time, I put a mask on before I opened the door. It was the first time I'd stuck my head outside since I got on the bus in DC three weeks before. I looked up and saw the moon, not quite full, in a clear sky. I could see stars for miles up there; it was beautiful. I had a hard time believing I was underground. I wanted to get out and walk around, but I didn't want to be stuck here for another three weeks, so I followed instructions and went back into the house.

After my last nose swab ever and breakfast, I put on everything I had been wearing when I came in on the first day, including the hazmat suit. When the knock came, I nearly hit the guy on the other side, I came out of the door so fast.

I walked out of confinement and followed my guide straight into a bright and sunny day. I still had a hard time believing we weren't outside, but there was nothing outdoors about the elevators or the tall, shiny cylinder rising in front of me.

We walked around the cylinder to the side opposite where we had entered. There was one of those moving walkways Gerri had shown me when he took me around, but this one was surrounded by high walls on both sides, cutting off any view. My guide put me on the walkway, and I rode it alone. I could look up, and for at least the first five minutes I did, just drinking in the outdoors. I even thought I could feel the sun's warmth through my face shield. Getting to the opening on the far side seemed to take forever.

I was directed to rooms similar to where I had started, where, once again, a sign told me to strip and shove everything but the suit into a bag. I was stark naked when I walked through the opposite door and into my first shower. Once I was decontaminated, I put on the same style of shorts and shirt I had been wearing for weeks, and finally, I was ready to leave this damn place. I came out into another corridor, directing me to yet another walled-off walkway and finally into a corridor lined with elevators on both sides. I joined the group waiting in the hallway when someone wearing an official hazmat suit approached us and called for our attention.

"Everyone, we're about to take the lifts down to Section 13, where you'll shower once more just to be absolutely sure nothing is carried from our quarantine floor to the rest of the habitat. Once done, you'll be directed to another lift, which will take you to Section 6, where you can catch another lift to your home section. "

He continued, "If you don't recall from the lectures, the lifts take us between sections. They're much faster than the elevators and only stop at three floors in a section. The system will plot your slot once you get into a car and choose your section. Make sure to use all the restraint harnesses because the initial insert into the lift line can be jarring." He chuckled, "There isn't any way to describe it other than some people are fine with it and others hate it. Don't worry too much; most of you will only need to use a lift occasionally, if ever. Everything you might need can be found in your home section."

He added. "Oh, one other thing, make sure you go into the shower you're assigned; you'll find the clothes you wore when you arrived, all cleaned and decontaminated, along with a new mobile interface device. Access your profile, and it will guide you to your new house. The Foundation and all of us in NAHE thank you for your patience in going through this quarantine procedure, and we hope you find what you are looking for with us."

Then he let us go.

Once I finished my last shower and was holding my new interface, I wasn't interested in going to any house; I headed straight to Thirsties.