Star Trekking across the coronaverse

8 Apr

April 8, 2020

I could swear my boots look sad, sensing that the lockdown’s extension until the end of April means our seasonal affair was cut short this year. As I telepathically reassure them and myself that our time will come again, I steal a glance at the shoes which patiently await their turn to strut their heels around Vienna’s famed café society, upon our conditional liberation, and start imagining the outfits to accompany them.

Random thoughts about footwear and fashion, which may also change as we gradually migrate our work to a digital environment, are some of the mundane things getting my mind off our anxiety-inducing reality. When I scroll (or rather, to borrow a perfect expression I read somewhere, when I terror scroll) various platforms aimlessly from one piece of depressing news to another, I cling to the confidence that our scientists will find a vaccine, and that adapting our habits is a positive necessity.

For me, most of the guidance to contain the spread of this damn virus is welcome. I’ve always hated having to lend anyone a pen. When I use the restroom at my place of work, I touch nothing (think Sheldon Cooper level, really) and use paper towels to open doors, mentally judging people I don’t even know for not washing their hands well or long enough. I’ve taught my daughter since she was little that we don’t sit on our beds with clothes we’ve worn outside, and I love that our winter gloves protect us from a lot more than the cold. I was never enthusiastic about shaking hands or kissing random people. My air travel and public transportation modus operandi, whenever possible, revolves around the mantra of “touch only when necessary.”

So while I wholeheartedly hug and kiss people I care for and conveniently forget about germs when I’m book or clothes shopping, I do like this sudden global fixation with hygiene and the reassessment of the need for endless and pointless meetings.

Of course, that doesn’t take the current stress away, and watching sitcoms – one of my tried and tested methods of decompressing – hasn’t appealed to me in these circumstances. However, over the past few weeks, it is my eternal, internal Trekkie which has helped me hang on to notions of a better future as I re-watch, for the umpteenth time, all the seasons of one of my favorite shows ever.

My brothers and I grew up watching Star Trek reruns in the US, with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock becoming a big part of our ideal world. Years later, they were joined by Captain Picard, Commander Riker and Lt. Data as I became (and still am) seriously hooked on Star Trek “The Next Generation.” In each episode, the endearing characters would face dilemmas and ponder moral and ethical questions over which I would obsess for days on end. This appealing world was a universe where character defines people, where poverty is eradicated and money is meaningless, where there is mutual respect for “the other” and the other’s way of life, where greed and hatred are rejected, where the sense of right and wrong is a guiding light, where the pursuit of knowledge and meaning drives humans and most other races, and where logic and empathy cohabit comfortably.

I’ve often advocated that watching Star Trek should be mandatory at schools and universities everywhere, and I think it can rekindle an aspiration for ideals at any age. Star Trek does make you dream, but above all it makes you think, and we all need to rethink so much about our lives.

Which brings me back to our worldly greeting problems, to which Star Trek offers the best solution even for non-Trekkies. Instead of handshakes, kisses and bearhugs with people you don’t necessarily want to touch, instead of namaste which necessitates two free hands and might be misinterpreted as purely faith-based by some, instead of a hand on the heart or chest which I would reserve to convey appreciation or respect to someone, it’s only logical that we adopt the Vulcan salute and all it stands for.

Live long and prosper.

Originally published here: https://everythingafter50.com/2020/04/08/post-25-coronavirus-and-a-global-perspective/