Geoff Dyer, brillanter Autor und Reiseschriftsteller, begibt sich in diesem Text auf einen Trip in seinen Alltag im Angesicht der Pandemie. Er beschreibt die an Wahn erinnernde stete Überprüfung des eigenen Verhaltens:

And what a minefield of anxiety the simple act of washing has become. Wash your hands every time you come in the house, they say. But, having got in and washed your hands, you then touch stuff you had with you in the viral swamp of the outdoors. And although we turned on the tap with a knuckle-nudge, those same knuckles were used to touch the keypad on our way into the apartment complex. Can flawed washing become a form of spreading? And how about the keys used to unlock our door? Should we be washing them as well? Once you become conscious of the tactile chain of potential infection, the ground rapidly gives way beneath your feet.

Diese Gedanken sind nun unsere. Sie kannten bisher nur Menschen, die unter einer Zwangsstörung leiden. Und sie erweitern sich auf jeden Bereich des Lebens:

My tennis partner and I have abandoned shaking hands at the end of a match—but, since I’ve touched the tennis balls that he has touched, what’s the point? Also, like many men of my generation, I have a fondness for paying with that filthy, contaminated stuff called cash. (Speaking of which, does anyone, even in London, a city of proud and determined caners, still snort coke through shared banknotes?)

Dyers Text, wie immer bei ihm amüsant und präzise, schenkt uns bei aller uns umgebenden Dramatik Trost. Denn: Es geht uns allen gleich. Der Panikmodus ist nur das neue Normal.