The Great Depression of 2020: Real but Silly Tales Known as Reality

God seems to have a destructive and equally twisted sense of humour. In ancient books,films and propaganda, 2020 seemed to be another word for a complete utopia. The truth couldn’t be more wrong. The would-be Mars settlements and flying cars have been re-shaped by cold, stark reality into millions of dead bodies, piled up on an incinerator, ready to be forgotten. The dreams and hopes we had have been crushed by a tide of crashed economies. Twenty-twenty would have been perfect just safely locked away in just another ludicrous dystopian book written by just another ludicrous idiot with just another ludicrous idea. Only that the book happened to be real, and we find ourselves in this: a time where strange stories surface and bitter books of pure disaster are real. So people say. 

2020 seems to stink of mouldy disinfectant. One of my friends’ mum insisted on scrubbing everything that came through the front door like a madman at least three times with disinfectant wipes before considering it clean, at which point the useful ethanol inside was probably long gone and twenty useful minutes that could have been productive had flown away. Then, she insists on taking an hour-long shower, washing every square nanometer of skin at least five times before touching anything in the house, so he said. Slightly more than washing hands for twenty seconds, eh?

However, when they are asked how many people they actually know have the virus, most say that they have a friend who has a friend who has a friend who has a friend who happened to meet someone with the virus and catch it. Considering that 7.594 billion people live on Earth, and only 26 million people have ever had coronavirus, that’s hardly surprising. To visualise it, 26 million dollars packed in 100 dollar bills would only take up the size of a modest double-car garage, while 7.5 billion dollars packed in 100 dollar bills would fill up most of the garden in Buckingham Palace if stacked 7 meters high. 

It doesn’t take much for people to panic, or, more specifically, panic buy. I remember (who doesn’t?) the days where waitrose.app crashed if you tried to open it. Even if you risk “certain” death to go out to a store, you are politely greeted by empty shelves and most definitely no flour at all. I had been lucky enough to stockpile enough groceries for a month and still remember how crammed the fridge was after all the shopping. 

In conclusion, Twenty-Twenty could, after all, be not that far away from Twenty-Twenty, or at least not that bad.