Fill all the tanks with the necessary water and food until the end of their days. Horada ventilation tunnels protected with mechanical, chemical, electrostatic filters. Seal doors, tunnel gates and set traps against any intrusion.
Store tools and clothes without regard to modesty or aesthetics. Cuts antenna cables. Install screens against electromagnetic radiation from televisions and cell phones. Break selfies and mirrors that once reflected you. It is the contaminated of the haughty pandemic of hatred of humanity. You suspect that you can infect everyone. He does not want to share it with anyone.
Avoid contagion. Each neighbor that comes our way is a repertoire of viruses, microbes and bacteria. Also, an anthology of polluting gestures and beliefs. It is enough for a celebrity to adopt a mannered accent when speaking to unleash the copycat pandemic. I do not know which was the first contaminated that unleashed this overwhelming uniformity of clothes, thoughts, attitudes. It is enough for a writer to gesticulate for imitators to dilute at best and plagiarists at worst. Especially pestiferous are bad taste and kitsch, which multiply in geometric progression once infected. All vices catch on by way of imitation; crimes against humanity likewise and also indifference. The conviction of being superior without having done anything to prove it is also contagious. World, you don't deserve me, shout the infected. The authorities reinforce the quarantine, but loneliness makes chronic a contagion that could otherwise be swept away by so many new fashions that swarm in drops of saliva.
Spaces. Each conception of death corresponds to another of space. The unexpected prolongation of the pandemic creates a new architecture. All accesses to the natural environments where viruses float anarchically are closed. Omitted or restricted are meeting spaces: theaters, stadiums, dancing, cinemas, assemblies, churches. Even in the individual mansion the impregnable cubicle predominates and the social areas, living room, dining room, balconies, are prohibited. Before each cabin, waiting rooms where food items and gifts remain for the necessary eternity so that viruses and pathogens are deactivated. All clothing, footwear, or makeup is left behind after the decontamination hall. Also any object brought from outside where the transmitters lurk. Everything is reduced to smooth surfaces that do not harbor viral strains: inert plastic or burnished metal. It brings in all the fresh air and there are therefore no vents or windows. Once the final outcome has arrived, there is no need for more ceremony than to close the cubicle.
It costs nothing. Here comes the total pathology. From so much that it gives to everyone it is no longer considered a disease, although it puts us in bed, immobilizes us and drives us crazy to tie wandering in delusional worlds. There is a great loss of production during that third part of our lives that we spend there. During it, perfect loves and thoughts could have occurred. Although from Calderón we do not know if life is a dream, and dreams are dreams. If they were insignificant they would not irretrievably surrender us every eighteen hours. Those of us who cannot draw faces or cities create hundreds that seem real in our dreams. We do not know how to fly or conquer captivating women, and we achieve it with every snore. Eternal life may be a dream, death may be too. How delightful and imaginative our laziness would be if we didn't lose it sleeping.
Contagion. Aggressive agents have become so diversified and immunities are so fleeting that no one accepts anyone anymore and there is no organism that is not contagious. Some adventure because of climate change, others because of the End of Times, each one is a pathogenic variant that can contaminate whoever looks at it. The most beneficial bacteria have become toxic; most ideas and arts are foul. The only remedy will be the appearance of the total infectious agent, which kills everyone and then itself.
Transmission. With eagerness the disease that infects in an unknown way but that is impossible to infect at will is studied. How many contaminated people led a normal life, until the morbidity leads them to another of sufferings, anxiety and dependencies. Almost everyone suffers from it, has suffered from it or will suffer from it. The afflicted usually do not have the strength of character to suffer it alone: they scream, they verse, they implore trying to transmit the plague but nothing. It is the only disease that nobody wants to be cured. Its duration and intensity is variable. It devours sanity, fortune and social position. In many cases when it is transmitted there is rapid remission of symptoms; in others, even with death they do not vanish. The more doctors study it, the less it is known how it originates or desorigines. Boredom is the most effective therapy, but only in cases where mutual contagion has worked. If you think you know how Love arises or is cured, contribute your knowledge to the development of the vaccine.
Social distance. I don't recall ever being alone in the midst of the greatest tumult. Neither doing good nor evil did I feel close to my victims. That hubbub called intimacy has not touched me. I do not know what infections I have avoided receiving. I've hardly pretended. There is a necessary social distance for the Being: until it is established, nobody is nobody.
Pyramid. Pharaoh faced two possibilities: that the servants whom he had built the Pyramid would rebel against him, or that the Pyramid would rebel. Today the servants have become too meek, and the Pyramid has rebelled, despite the fact that it was nothing more than a resource for the servants to spend all their energy on it without rebelling.
Closing. The worst pathogen is declared to be the neighbor. Humanity is organized in quarantine against humanity. I have infected myself.