By Maya Shamari
“Let’s just wait a few minutes for those still in the waiting room to join us. Come on in everyone! Hello! Welcome! ... alright. Numbers are looking good. Well then, hello, all! Thank you for attending your very own 20-year Weston high school reunion! How are we?? Raise your hand if you are excited!
“After two decades, we are on our 73rd variant, finally beating the count of the newest iPhone 70S+, and we are able to look back and recall how we managed to defend ourselves from 73 variants of the same sickness: our great protocols! Without them, we’d be dead!
“A lot has changed since we graduated in 2022. No more buses, as there are no dividers between the seats, no more switching classrooms during the day, as only the teachers switch rooms to help with tracing protocols, and no more masks, as they were not glued to our faces and had minuscule air pockets. Instead, students gained a new mandatory uniform: hazmat suits!
“Just recently in 2039, we upgraded hallways to make the most of our one-way rules. They have been transformed into the only thing better than the TSA line at the airport: flat escalators. Filling every crevice of every inch of every antique wooden floor beam became walkable-stationary treadmills. We have also continued the strength of our one-way walkways. As far as other coughing creatures are concerned, the birds outside only fly South now—thankfully obliging the laws of transverse lanes. The fish in the pond only swim East on the right side and West on the left side as well. Nice job to all who remotely tutored their gills to do so! Let’s give our AP Environment alumni a round of applause.”
Cheers roared through the speakers of everyone’s MacNovel desktops computers.
“We prayed for the tables that once only had plastic dividers on the tables. Senior year, let’s remember how the administration brought in the plastic boxes that encompass the seats as well. When we graduated college, they brought in the chairs that divided each of a student’s legs to decrease the risk of the Nomicron variant spreading to one’s entire body. When I graduated from medical school, President Crow Shlidon repeated once again for new set ups that separated each finger and toe from another. Plastic dividers later separated individual pieces of hair and pages in a notebook. As a doctor, I am very thankful for our globe’s medical advancements that allow us to virtually practice surgeries, provide radiation therapy, and supply just about anyone who wants to be a doctor the ability to quickly and easily get their certifications!”
“Thank you for your service as a frontline essential worker!” a participant shouted.
“It is my honor. How is everyone? Anyone finally received their car chip? It feels like we’re in Cuba right now! Old-school, retro, vintage 2019 cars! I’d love to see your new cars, if you have one, although I don’t think anyone uses the streets anyways. Too rough for our vehicle's soft, baby-smooth tire skin. I would not want your car to catch COVID either—now the CDC has discovered that non-living things can as well, including those textbooks we used to draw in. Yikes! But hey, it also brings in some good. With the books banned, at least we are saving trees.
“Alright. That’s all! I don’t want to take any more of your busy time! Call your mom and let her know that she is safe to hang that painting back up that usually sits on the wall above your head in your background and that she can stop mouthing her reactions back to you, even though you’re on mute. That is if she’s still alive of course. Erhhhh, this is so swell. Even though quarantine is only 5 minutes now, it is still respectful to wear a mask for 5 extra minutes, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. Up to you! Land of the free! Let’s just reminisce about pre-pandemic memories that haunt us. I still cannot believe there was a time when we had to shop for our own groceries, drink beer in person, and try on shoes before buying them. I hope you all have a wonderful evening and stay safe!”
The Zoom screen was clicked off. I could finally take off this hideous collared shirt that just covered the bands of my plaid-print pajama pants. I swear no one understands the horror of these calls. I mean a whole 4 minutes?? Time is truly running out.
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