My wife, the venerable She Who Must Obeyed, works in the school system. Like all other rational people, we have some concerns. As a guy who has written about killer plagues and various apocalypses for a living, I’m rather focused as I watch my dire predictions come true. Rather than hash all that out with my many, many opinions, I have a suggestion: Listen to the latest episode of This American Life.
Hosted by Ira Glass, the podcast is always well-produced and thoughtful. This may be the best one yet. It’s called Long-awaited Asteroid Finally Hits Earth. Despite the ominous title, not all the news is bad (and it’s all interesting).
From an anti-mask demonstration by outraged parents to anxious teachers working the frontline of the pandemic, this is a thought-provoking story of how people are learning and coping. Students’ reactions to our new reality might leave you a little more hopeful as we tiptoe into the fall and whatever comes next.
Have a listen. You’ll be glad you did!
This American Life
https://www.thisamericanlife.org/715/long-awaited-asteroid-finally-hits-earth
I wish we didn’t do that here
As if mass casualties weren’t enough, 2020 just delivered another kick in the teeth. Chadwick Boseman, dead at 43 of colon cancer. His too-short career comprises much more than Black Panther, but for me, as a creator, a fan of the MCU and a comic book fan, his iconic role as T’Challah was so much more than the sum of its parts.
Hollywood underestimated the film’s saleability and impact, but Black Panther spoke to people. Wakanda is a utopian dream where everyone has dignity. Unlike the world we live in, powerful, intelligent women are not seen as a threat. Instead, they are respected. As many black people around the world have said, representation in a hugely successful franchise allowed them to feel seen for the first time.
Despite Wakanda’s monarchy, there is equality. This is best embodied in what could have been a throw-away scene in which Bruce Banner bows to the king. Chadwick Boseman delivers the line perfectly. “We don’t do that here.”
Imagine a world where someone holding power and authority asks anyone else not to bow. What a contrast to our current reality.
Wakanda forever.
Chadwick Boseman, Rest in Power.
My Top Five Books
Never ask a writer which is the best book they’ve written. That’s like demanding they choose their favorite child. It’s mean. However, gun to my head, here are my personal top five (and why):
This Plague of Days
The global pandemic begins with a killer flu that brings down civilization as we know it. You’re shown how our systems collapse in a very real-world scenario. (This is also my most popular series.)
It’s a slow burn as the virus continues to evolve. New species rise and things get weird. The supernatural toys with the survivors of the cull and our champion, Jaimie Spencer, is a radical departure from the usual heroes in the genre. He’s a selective mute on the spectrum whose special interest in dictionaries and Latin proverbs.
As battles between Good and Evil go, this is genre-bending. TPOD is complex and expansive. No red shirts!
The Night Man
Everyone who reads this prodigal son story loves it (but many haven’t read it). On a medical discharge from the Army, Ernest “Easy” Jack returns home to rural Michigan to train German Shepherds with his father. His high school sweetheart needs help. His dad’s on the shady side of a conspiracy involving dirty cops and a murderous real estate mogul.
The Night Man‘s plot is packed with action, but it’s Easy’s complex issues with war wounds, PTSD, and a checkered family history with his hometown which makes the story work on every level. If suspenseful thrillers are your thing, please do read this next.
Citizen Second Class
This makes my top five now because, though it’s set in a near-future dystopia, the story feels too relevant to what’s going on in the United States today. Kismet Beatriz comes from a military family but her nation has forgotten them. Democracy has collapsed and the hyper-wealthy (AKA the Select Few) have turned the Atlanta into a fortress.
Against a backdrop of food shortages, unemployment, secret police, and massive income disparity, Kismet must journey to New Atlanta. All she wants to do is feed her family, but fate has bigger plans for her.
Despite the grim premise, Citizen Second Class has funny and hopeful notes. The book I’m writing now is in the same world, earlier in the timeline. The next novel is darker, more like Crime and Punishment set at the end of the world. I’m often cynical and paranoid. Given the events of 2020, I wasn’t cynical and paranoid enough.
Amid Mortal Words
Man, this was fun to write, and it’s fun to read! A powerful book falls into the hands of an Air Force officer. Passages from the book can punish the guilty and work wonders for the innocent. This one book could set the world right. It might also condemn humanity to destruction.
This is twisty and fun, but readers often find it thought-provoking. If you’ve ever dreamed of being king or queen for a day, Amid Mortal Words is your next binge read.
AFTER Life
Readers often identify me as a zombie writer, but I only have two zombie trilogies. This Plague of Days was the first. After TPOD, I thought I’d done everything I could do in the genre that would feel fresh. Then along came AFTER, and I received new inspiration.
Artificial Facilitation Therapy for Enhanced Response was supposed to be a medical miracle based in nanotechnology. Weaponized, we get zombies.
The twist: The AI infecting our brains is evolving and wants to understand and improve humans. The action is non-stop, but underneath it all the infected are still conscious humans, horrified at what they are forced to do.
This Plague of Days is a supernatural horror epic. AFTER Life is the journey where science fiction curves right as humanity goes awry. It ends up in a fascinating place at the end of the trilogy. Love it! I hope you will, too.
~ I am Robert Chazz Chute. I write killer crime thrillers and suspenseful apocalyptic epics. My faves might not be identical to yours and that’s okay. I’m proud of all my work.
Also, I must add that I love my children equally and that fact drives them both crazy.
Free on Amazon. Today only!
If you can’t remember your sins, are you still guilty?
A long time ago, I ran away from home. Coming back is going to be murder.
On the run from bad debts and dangerous people, petty criminal Chazz Chute tries to start over and do things right. However, his father doesn’t know him anymore and his brother wants him dead.
The mystery grows as bodies fall in this action-packed suspense thriller.Â
Free today, July 22, 2020, only!
If you go to Nova Scotia
Here’s how to blend in:
1. Don’t eat lobster at a restaurant. That’s all butter, no sea lice taste. You get lobster off the boat. You eat the whole lobster, not just the claws and tail. Suck the juice from the legs because you’re a goddamn savage and don’t want anything to go to waste.
Always comment that you ate it all except for the poison sac behind the creature’s brain.
2. Do not wince as you tear into dulce. Don’t call it seaweed if you expect to go undetected. As you chew, always comment that it’s full of iodine.
3. Acceptable banter for any dining occasion: “I’m so hungry, I’d eat the ass out of a skunk.” If in a rural area, you may call the utensils forks and knives, but call them “eatin’ irons” and they’ll never suspect you weren’t born in Caledonia.
4. Don’t say you love fish. Say halibut, trout, or smoked salmon. When someone smokes you a salmon, by law you are required to say, “Tastes like cake!” Do not ask for a Montreal bagel to put under said salmon. It’s not the same thing and you’re in Nova Scotia now.
(Note: It tastes great, but it does not, in fact, taste like cake.)
You will be attending many bean suppers to support your local volunteer fire department. The towns may be small, but they’re decked out with firefighting equipment to rival any major city. The firehall siren will go off each day at noon to (a) test it, and (b) let you know it’s noon.
5. You do not go to the store. You go down to the store or up to the store. Also, locations are not “across the street.” They are always, “right across the street.”
Nova Scotian roads wind, so however long you think any trip will take, it’ll take longer and maybe all day in the winter. In rural areas, you will be required to navigate your route by barns, as in, “Take a left at the old Seliq barn and turn right again before you see the Rawding’s place.”
Yes, getting a direction by a landmark you do *not* see is considered helpful and neighborly. Be careful about asking for directions. You live here. You should already know who everyone is and where everything is, anyway.
6. You go to the woods, not the bush. At a beach party, you will be required to comment that a campfire smells better using driftwood for fuel. If by the Bay of Fundy, you will have to mutter, “highest tides in the world.”
7. Sure is not pronounced “Shur.” It’s pronounced “shore,” with emphasis on the “ore.”
When agreeing with an Acadian, don’t say, “Oui,” as if you’re in Paris. In Acadian French, it’s pronounced more duck-like. “Wheh, wheh, wheh!” Always thrice, and sell it with enthusiasm.
To appear agreeable after any assertion, say, “Yeah,” once or twice, but rising on the in-breath. This takes practice, but you’ll hear it everywhere.
You’re trying it right now, aren’t you?
Note: While always acceptable to appear agreeable, new information is to be treated with suspicion. A good rule is, if you haven’t heard something many times, don’t introduce a new thought. You’ll blow your cover.
8. To throw minor shade: “He’s come from away.” This means, “not a Maritimer for two generations.” You could be born in Toronto and live in the Annapolis Valley for 20 years and you’ll still be “that Tronna fella.”
More shade: Call someone an S.O.B. (*not* son of a bitch). This is never to be said to someone’s face, always behind the back. That would be considered impolite unless they’re family, in which case you can be as cruel as you want and call it “just teasin’.”
Highest compliment, “He did well.” “Did well,” means somebody is an S.O.B., but with money.
9. Speak quickly from the back of your throat. Acceptable topics: The weather and town gossip. Until you die, throw in, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” (This is the height of hilarity.)
That’s about it for topics, though knowing the names of several varieties of apples not commonly found in stores is good. Talk about grafting and you’ll end up marrying someone from Nova Scotia who wears tall rubber boots every day.
10. To really fit in, memorize “Farewell to Nova Scotia.” Sound wistful. Call it God’s Country a lot and enthuse about foghorns. They’re also suckers for Stan Rogers singing “Barret’s Privateers.”
Okay…*everybody* should be a sucker for this song. It’s great!
Solutions to the Mess We’re In
AKA Better Safe Than Sorry, Part III
If the mortal threat is not real until the pandemic affects you personally, that’s a failure of empathy and foresight. I don’t know if empathy can be taught. Leading by example is good (wear a mask!) but we must fine selfish assholes who refuse to comply for no other reason than performative belligerence.
Feel no urge to protect the herd? Pow! Here’s a ticket. Still no mask? Pow! Here’s another ticket. How’s your wallet feel now? Still nothing? We’re impounding your car. Ready to participate in society, be a hero and save lives yet? No? I’m taking your phone and you’re grounded. Go to your room.
What else can we do when science is not believed? I have some ideas.
Appeal 1: Patriotism
This is a war. We’ve suffered casualties. For this conflict, rifles and Blackhawk helicopters won’t help. We’re all drafted and on the line, saving lives. Your mask is your armor. Gear up, Citizen Soldier!
Appeal 2: Self-interest
The life you save might be your own. Do you care for somebody? Anybody? You could spare them pain, suffering or death, too.
Appeal 3: Vanity
New Zealanders can do something you can’t? Wimp.Â
Appeal 4: Religion
You may not want to wear a mask because if you die, you’ll just get to heaven sooner. Cool, but wouldn’t Jesus want us to look out for each other? Do unto others, etc.? If someone dies before they know Jesus because you found a mask too inconvenient… Well, do selfish assholes go directly to heaven? Or do they have to wait in shame for a while at the back of the line?
Appeal 5: Shunning
You broke the social contract. We are enforcing our mask policy. No, you cannot enter the store. No goods or services for you.
Make the crisis personal. Shun them until they feel enough social pressure to save lives.
Appeal 6: Conspiracy theory
“Don’t wear masks to defeat Bill Gates’ contagion and tracking vaccine. Wear the mask to defeat facial recognition technology.” And/or: “The globalists don’t really want you to wear a face covering. It’s a fake out. They created and released the virus to kill you so they can steal your vote. Besides, masks destroy the effects of 5G. It’s been documented.”
Note: A conspiracy theory doesn’t have to make sense. You don’t have to science it up. Just tap into the sap’s need to feel targeted and victimized. “They’re out to get you so you have to do X, Y, Z,” is a reliable formula.”
Appeal 7: Economics
I get that you want to get back to normal and get the economy going again. Me, too!
Mass death and the looming threat thereof seems bad for the economy, though, right? It’s not enough to declare it’s safe for everybody to go back to work. It has to actually be and feel safe. Put a ref on the field and get the rabid tigers back in their cages or we aren’t playing.
Appeal 8: Civility
We wear masks here because we care for each other. Pretty please?
Appeal 9: Sexiness
Damn! You’re lookin’ like a snack in that mask! Those eyes! And looking so mysterious and alluring! When the pandemic is over and the borders open, I want to make sweet love to you in Paris.
Or:
I pledge to never bless anyone with my fine naked self if they refused to be a decent person during a global pandemic. I’ve got too much self-respect to even deal with anyone so careless.
No glove, no love. No mask? Don’t even ask.
Appeal 10: Fear
As the Facebook meme goes, if you don’t like wearing a mask, you’re really going to hate the ventilator. Drowning on land is a horrible way to die. And even if you survive, COVID-19 is a nasty, cold-hearted bitch. The painful effects can last a long time, maybe for the rest of your miserable life.
And if I survive, I’ll be your Meals on Wheels angel every day. I’ll bring you soup at noon and with every goddamn sip and dribbling slurp I spoon feed you, I’ll utter those same dreadful words, “I told you so.” Scared yet?
Last-ditch attempt:
It’s okay to be ignorant. Just don’t stay wrong.Â
If you refuse to believe in science and continue to look for ways to deny the obvious, that’s a human failing. You don’t want to be told what to do. You don’t want to be wrong. Nobody likes to admit they were wrong about anything.
Me included!
In 2010, when I wrote This Plague of Days, I believed that the protective barrier masks provide would be made useless after 20 minutes of respiration. That was generally believed right up to early this year! The science changed because more research was done. Findings change as the science improves.
Wearing masks dramatically decreases transmission of coronavirus. We have to improve alongside the science. The willfully ignorant use motivated reasoning to condemn Dr. Fauci and the CDC on this point. Yes, he was wrong about something in the past. That doesn’t mean he’s wrong now.
Rather than changing and admitting a past mistake, some double down on being wrong in the present. That’s a formula for more grieving and loss.
The way things are going, particularly in the US and Brazil now, we will all know someone who has died of COVID-19. We’ve already had too much unnecessary death and pain. Let’s stop making more. Please, wear a mask.
The most tragic last words I’ve heard were reported this week.
A young woman about to be put on a ventilator gasped her last with, “I think I made a mistake. I thought it was a hoax.”
She had not acted on better safe than sorry. Then she was sorry too late.Â
~ This concludes the Better Safe Than Sorry series of three posts I had to get off my chest. If you missed the first two, here are the links:
Better Safe Than Sorry Part I
Better Safe Than Sorry Part II
People are often lousy at assessing risks
Have you noticed how many people get visibly angry and defensive when they’re asked to wear a mask? In most cases, false excuses or conspiracy theories are dragged out. I’ve tried to make sense of the conspiracy theories. If it were a hoax, damn, it’s a good one. All those crisis actors buried in coffins worldwide have really committed to the bit!
There’s no sense to be made of it. If it’s all “a liberal plot to bring down the economy,” how’s that work? Nobody has their own economy that’s exempt from the effects of the crisis. We all want to go back to the movies and eat overpriced popcorn, dude. I’ve already given that nonsense too much space here, so…
Numbers versus Celebrity DeathÂ
In the past few days, three well-loved celebrities have died. An actress succumbed to breast cancer. A young actress who performed on Glee drowned. A former co-host of Mythbusters passed away unexpectedly. You’ve seen the news stories. You can probably name at least one of these high-profile people. We say any death is a loss, and it is. My purpose is not to cast aspersions on grieving fans, friends, or the families of dead performers.
The point is that humans are lousy at conceiving of large numbers like 138,000 dead in the United States (and climbing).Â
But each of those who’ve fallen to COVID-19 have names. They loved their children, fought with their parents, adored sandwiches, and watched baseball. They had dreams. They will be missed by their loved ones. They’re all real, but to too many people, “I don’t know them so it doesn’t count.”
2,977 people died on 9/11 and people lost their minds. Dennis Miller’s sense and sense of humor vanished. Wars began. Many more innocents lost their lives as a result of that one day. We saw the tragedy on our TV screens on repeat. We saw the reactions of the witnesses on the ground. We heard the last phone calls from hostages on the planes about to crash. That made the attack real and the horror of it touched everyone.
Up the numbers some more. Medical personnel see the horror, but due to strict regulations about privacy, you aren’t seeing what it’s like to go on a ventilator day after day. Amp up the human suffering behind closed door and…numbness.
We’re numb. It’s understandable. Big numbers are hard. We can’t picture infinity, either.Â