Around Masks, Don’t Relax

“Masks on in public,” is a common refrain in my household.

Oh, the subtext.  Subtext so thick you could stir it with a spoon.  Let’s stick with the surface level interpretation of that phrase for today, shall we?

The drawing of the lines around the Masked Eloi and the Maskless Morlocks has paid off in spades for the pro-atomization crowd.  Atomization, for those not in the know, is the process by which normal and healthy relationships are ripped away from normal and healthy people, leaving them isolated and alone and defenseless against the predations of the Death Cult.  The communists – particularly those of the Maoist variety – had a pretty good run of it, managing even to turn children against their parents.

Unclean! Unbeliever!

Those guys were pikers compared to the current band of globalists.  They’ve managed to create a self-identifying caste of nervous Nellies who have made a virtue out of cowardice and baseless compliance.  They’ve turned half the nation into obedient zombies, many of whom revel in the chance to schoolmarm randos on the street.   All those warnings about, “It could never happen here,” are lost like tears in the rain.  They forgot that score-settling and the dopamine hit of snitching on strangers to exercise a little power over them is damn near universal.

Which leads to a climate where every interaction on the street becomes laden with risk.  At least for those of us who eschew the requisite face-huggers at every opportunity.  Rare is the tale of a Free Face Rebel instigating a confrontation in the flesh with a member of Team Masked-Up.  It’s almost universally the other way around.  Team Free Face just wants to be left alone.

Of course, just walking about enjoying fresh air is an affront to the Masked Ones.  They resent it and consider the small act of defiance a personal affront, justifying a confrontation with the ludicrous idea that, “He started it by not wearing a mask.”

Perhaps the numbers of such mask cops are small, but the risks are great.  And regardless of the merits of either position, the result is a constant barrage of suspicious interactions with strangers.  The Masked Ones feel a frisson of delicious fear – you often see it in their unhidden eyes – and shy away.  Or they scowl with a menace that reaches their eyes.  Walking about without the Face Shackle strapped in place means keeping a constant vigil.  The threat sensors have to be up at all times, and you have to be ready for a confrontation.

It doesn’t matter who is right on this issue.

We are more suspicious of each other.  More wary.  Less trustful.

And that’s just the way the power hungry brokers want it.