The Decameron Project
Page 11
Harry and meghan
hary and megan Canada
new year’s resolutions
new year’s resolutions how long
They like being with their families. They like being with strangers. They work in small spaces. Crowd into boxes, push the air around. Sleep in boxes. Need each other. Touch each other. They move around the world. Everywhere in the world. Like us.
They search for things:
Harry and William
meghan and kate
Meghan and Kate feud
NFC playoff picture
They ask themselves:
should I be afraid
how afraid should I be
They ask themselves: What is coronavirus. corona virus what is it. Oscar party ideas. State of the Union. State of the Union what time. Super Bowl odds. Bean dip very spicy. Bean dip not so spicy. They ask themselves if they should be afraid but they already are.
They have patterns. Weekends. Summer plans. They have ways of doing things. They don’t see how they can give those up.
They have weaknesses. They need each other. Like being around each other. They make noises. Open their mouths and push the air around and make noises at each other. Ha ha ha is a noise. Thank you is a noise. Did you see the thing about meghan and harry is a noise.
They have systems. Systems have pressure. Pressure to grow. Make more of things. More and more and more.
They go in the air boxes and in those boxes are smaller boxes and smaller boxes and many of them crawl inside a box and sit there and share the air.
Their movements seem random at first but study their movements and it becomes clear that the systems have patterns. Sunlight brings them out of their small boxes, they move together in streams. Massive streams, sometimes traveling quite far from their home boxes to hubs or centers where they collect in large boxes. Streams on the ground. They are also capable of airborne travel. They sort themselves and divide their work up. The work is to make more. More and more and more. All day long they break off in groups, then re-form new groups. Air is pushed. There is touching. In the moonlight they stream back to their boxes or to other boxes.
When it gets warmer they spend less time in boxes. When it is colder they heat up their boxes. They follow cycles of earth and moon and sun. Most of them live for many cycles.
They search for things: First date ideas. Tapas bars. Tapas downtown. Wuhan. Wuhan where. Sushi near me. How to tell if he’s interested. How to tell if she’s interested. Good first date how to tell. Second date ideas. Italy. Lombardy Italy. Chinese virus. Trump Chinese virus. Coronavirus versus flu. Covid not that bad.
They search for things: Why do some people say coronavirus not that bad. News sources trustworthy. Fauci. Fauci credentials. Fauci facepalm gif. Fauci handsome. Fauci married.
They divide themselves into groups. They say: Some of us are them and some of us are us. They do not always tell the truth. They spread things on their own. More and more and more.
They ask themselves:
who invented coronavirus
WHO invented coronavirus
They search for things: Governor. Lockdown.
They change their patterns.
They search for:
how long is six feet
They ask themselves: Zoom what is it. How to use Zoom. School grades. Do my grades count.
They search. They look for patterns. They gather data. They look for patterns in the data and then they do something unexpected: They change their own patterns. No more streaming to large boxes. The hubs are empty. The streams are gone. The airborne migration is gone. They stay still in small boxes.
They ask themselves: Affordable Chromebooks. Does Zoom cost money. Bored kid. Activities for bored kid. Teacher thank-yous. Teacher appreciation. Green onions grow. Green onions grow how fast. Quadratic formula. Sine cosine tangent. How to be hopeful for kids. How to seem hopeful for kids. Lockdown how much longer. What to say to kids.
Their older ones sit alone in boxes. Staring at smaller boxes. Their older ones have trouble with air.
They find patterns but some of them need to find more patterns.
Showing results for: coronavirus
Search instead for: coronavirus conspiracy
They ask themselves: How to cut hair. How to fix kid’s haircut. Hats for kids.
The younger ones search: Interview with astronaut. Museum virtual tour. When does my school start again. Thing versus Hulk who wins. Hulk versus Thor no hammer who wins. Hulk and Thing versus Thor drunk who wins. Coronavirus real. Coronavirus kids. Mother’s Day ideas. Gifts for your mom. Gifts to make for your mom no money. All the Spidermans versus Hulk who wins.
They need each other, like each other. They miss each other.
They ask themselves:
can cats get depressed
They search for:
Food bank donation. Food bank near me.
What is a pandemic. What is furlough. How to keep kids safe. How to keep older people safe. How old is old. Am I old.
What is
How to
Is it OK
Can I
Numbers. Numbers up. Numbers growing.
How long before symptoms of coronavirus? Is there vaccine for coronavirus? How do I avoid coronavirus? How did coronavirus start? Is virus getting worse? What is mental health? How can I tell if I am depressed? What is safest takeout?
They search for:
Stop payment indicator.
what does stop payment indicator mean for unemployment
unemployment office number
when do we open up Lexington
when are we reopening Flint
when can we reopen Bowling Green
When it gets warmer they change their patterns again. They are temperature-sensitive and they spend less time in their boxes.
Many of them die. When they die, they stop pushing air. When they die they do not search for things anymore.
The weather changes and their patterns change again. Staying still in boxes for many cycles, they begin to emerge. Some of them are hungry.
Some of them are hungry. They restart the system. Slowly, the streams resume. The pressure builds. More and more and more. They make food. Some of them have too much food. Some of them share food with others. Some of them line up for food.
They search for things: cat still depressed
are we in a bear market
what is a bear market
what is a payroll tax cut
what is martial law
how do I shelter in place
safest cities to live
What is considered a fever. What is considered a dry cough. What is considered essential.
What is open right now. What is Marshall law. How to make hand sanitizer. How to sew a face mask. Shirt as mask. Underwear as mask. What is N95. How to break a fever. Living alone. What if I’m alone
They have subgroups. The subgroups are virtually indistinguishable. Genetically. They have invisible signals that help members of one subgroup identify fellow members. They divide themselves. They say: Some of us are us, and some of us are them.
They have weaknesses.
Some of them are aggressive. Some of them are confused. Some of them have short memories. Some of them cannot change their patterns. They have systems. Systems of air. Of information. Of ideas.
Some of them enjoy breathing as their right.
Some of them can’t breathe.
Some of them send signals with incorrect information about the environment.
Misinformation spreads quickly through the population.
Misinformation can be transmitted through the mouth or eyes.
These signals confuse some of them.
Others of them study us.
They know what we are: Not quite alive. Invisible. Information.
They have invisible signals.
They talk to each other. They push air. They need each other, like each other. Miss each other. Think about each othe
r.
They harness invisible forces. Electromagnetism. Light. They are like us. They have codes. Codes of symbolic sequences. They encode information and spread it.
They can be in small boxes and signal to each other in codes and coordinate their actions. They can be one and many and one somehow. They have particles, they have transmission, they have magical powers. They can communicate across time and space.
They have science.
They know:
Approximately 8 percent of the human genome is viral DNA.
They know we will never be apart. There are no subgroups. There is no us and them.
They search for things:
where is protest
safe to protest
how to protest
They realize:
Community is how it spreads.
Community is how it is solved.
They will keep going. Emerge from their boxes in boxes in boxes into sunlight. Cycles resuming. They will transmit messages to each other. Some of them will be confused. Some of them will share food. They will make more and more and more. Some of them will die. Some of them will be hungry. Some of them will be alone.
The systems will be the systems. But some of them may change the systems. Rebuild them. Make new patterns. They will fly again, collect again in hubs, gather by the thousands and push air at each other, ha ha ha and other noises they make to each other to signal invisible things.
Some things will not change. They will need each other. Like each other. Miss each other. They will have weaknesses. And strengths. They ask themselves: Harry and Meghan what now. Harry and Meghan what next.
Translated by Alex Valente from the Italian
he abstinence started with Michele’s arrival.
Michele is my wife’s son. We haven’t lived together for four years now, since he moved to Milan for college and Mavi and I moved into a smaller place, tailor-made for two.
When things started getting real bad in the north, Michele called me. I’m coming over tonight, he said.
Why?
Milan isn’t safe.
But the trains must be full. And really expensive.
Trains aren’t safe, either. I’m carpooling.
I objected that an infected train was still preferable to six hours in some stranger’s car.
The driver has a really good rating, he said.
A couple of hours before I was supposed to pick him up, I lay down next to Mavi. I told her: I fear I’ve forgotten how to live with the three of us together.
I haven’t, unfortunately, she replied. Can you get the lights?
But I was nervous. I couldn’t let her be. We had sex, and it was over almost immediately. The air in the house had a different density. I felt a kind of pressure.
Must be the anxiety, I said on my way back from the bathroom.
Mavi seemed to have fallen asleep.
Yeah, must be the anxiety, I said again. Because of the epidemic and all.
Her hand moved gently onto my forearm. I kept it there for a while, then I got ready to leave.
* * *
I waited for Michele at the spot we’d agreed on, an empty lot outside Rome, way over the bypass. Weeds in the cracks in the asphalt and glares from people at a local bar, probably because I’d been sitting in the car for the last 30 minutes. At 3:00 a.m.
I was thinking back to other similar moments, from when Michele was 9, 10, 11. Mavi and her ex-husband always chose unhappy places like this one for their hostage exchanges. Mall parking lots, intersections. I would sit in my car pretending I wasn’t there. Mavi and Michele would get in, and no one would say anything until we got home. I’d choose music carefully, not too sad but not too happy either. It never really fit.
I watched Michele take an enormous bag out of the trunk. Was he planning on staying that long? The driver stepped out, as did a young woman holding a small dog. They said their friendly goodbyes.
A couple of minutes later, now in the car, Michele was venting about her, she’d forced them to take a pointless detour around Bologna and hadn’t told anyone about the dog. What if he’d been allergic?
But Michele isn’t allergic to dogs. He’s allergic to cats. When I took him to meet my parents he refused to step inside, insisting that the cat hair would give him an asthma attack.
After the rant he fell silent for a while. He was studying the darkness of the city outside the car window.
You don’t see them outside anymore, huh? he said, eventually.
Who?
The Chinese.
When he was 9, 10, 11, Michele would refuse Ikea cutlery because, he said, they were made in China. We had never been able to remove that association between China and Ikea. We’d given up in the end; Mavi did, anyway. She’d bought him a set for his personal use, a set that said “Made in Italy.”
Maybe they’re not outside because it’s the middle of the night, I said.
But he insisted: You have to admit I was right about them. Admit it.
I did not. I kept glancing at his hands instead, keeping track of all the parts of the car he was touching.
I ended up blurting: Have you sanitized your hands?
Of course.
Then, as if in response to my inner protest against his presence, he added: I have the highest rating on the carpooling app. As a passenger. Apparently I’m the perfect travel buddy.
* * *
A few days later, Italy was one giant red zone. No more traveling between regions, no more than 600 feet outside your own home. Everyone, no matter where they currently found themselves, had to shelter in place, including Michele. We were trapped.
As I got back from the store, I told Mavi: I could smell my breath inside the mask; it reeks a little.
She kept leafing through her magazine.
Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight, I said. Not enough vitamin D, you know?
Michele walked across the kitchen shirtless. I wanted to tell him to cover up, that I didn’t like him walking around like that, but it was never a good idea to talk to him just after he got up, so I didn’t.
He looked heavier than me. His body seemed to take up a lot of space. Then I remembered having the same thought several years earlier, when he was a third of the size and hated me in that clear, straightforward way in which every child must hate his or her stepfather.
As soon as the bathroom door closed, I turned to Mavi: You see that? He’s wearing my socks.
I gave them to him. He doesn’t have any light ones.
But I care about those socks.
She looked at me oddly: You care about those socks?
I do. A little.
Don’t worry, they’re still washable.
Despite my efforts, I was annoyed. Because of my breath and because of my socks, though I wasn’t sure which one I cared about the most. Or maybe because Mavi and I hadn’t touched each other since Michele’s arrival. I wasn’t even sure which was the biggest factor in our drifting apart: Michele, the epidemic, or that last, disastrous attempt the evening of his arrival. At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb.
In those moments, I’d often think back to an interview with a music star; I think I read it in Rolling Stone magazine, just after 9/11. The singer talked about how, confronted with the images of the towers and the smoke, he and his partner had started fucking furiously. Hours and hours on end, he said. Sex in the face of fear. An act of creation to ward off the destruction. Cosmic forces, Eros and Thanatos. That sort of stuff.
And here we were, Mavi and I. Stuck. Apart. As the world outside kept growing darker.
* * *
The socks were only the beginning. Michele’s conquest would expand on multiple fronts, I knew it.
He quickly requisitioned the only Ethernet cable in the house that ensured a stable connection. For his online classes, he said. Then he took my headphones.
Earbuds are bad for him after a while, Mavi said, sid
ing with him.
The only balcony in the apartment became his break room. Every day he’d line up white cigarette butts on the railing; I wouldn’t refrain from counting them before throwing them in the trash. When I pointed out to him that the wind could blow them onto the downstairs balconies, he told me that was an unlikely scenario.
Finally, he asked me if he could use my home office. Before I could come up with a feasible defense, he added: It’s not like you work in the evening anyway.
That was the first Friday of the lockdown. I took the time to chew my mouthful of chicken.
What do you need it for?
Houseparty.
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I said nothing. It would weaken my position.
It’s quieter in your spot, Michele added.
I know. That’s why it’s my office.
Mavi gave me a disappointed look, so I stood up and opened the fridge, looking for nothing in particular. There was a six-pack of Tennent’s Super, his supplies for the evening.
Houseparty, I mumbled.
I later turned up the volume on the TV to cover Michele’s laughter and the music blaring out of his laptop’s speakers. The more he enjoyed himself, the lower my mood sank.
Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable to be listening in on his party? I said to Mavi.
He’s letting off steam with his friends. They’re all so far away, he misses them.
He could do it quietly! I almost said.
What I actually said was: It reminds me of all the nights I spent in the car waiting for him to leave a club.
Because suddenly all my years with Mavi and Michele were reduced to that: endless waiting. Waiting in front of a club, or in a parking lot; waiting in the bedroom in total silence; waiting for him to come of age so that Mavi and I could actually start living our life as a couple. Waiting to grow older so we could be young lovers. How had everything happened backward? And how had we ended up back at square one just as we thought we’d made it? I let myself wallow in that comforting wave of self-pity.
That was maybe four times, Mavi said.
I turned the volume up some more.
No, I mumbled. It was way more than four.
* * *
The following morning I carefully studied the desk’s white top. The amber halos of the empty beers were still visible. I took the cleaning cloth out of the closet, making a show of it, making sure Mavi saw me.