"This is the new normal," they cry. "This is now our brave new world. Do not venture from your square, for you will certainly be beaten down and placed in jail."

The "new normal" seems a very weird and disturbing brave new world. "For your own safety, sir and madam, please don these funny hats when entering our establishment."

The "new normal" has progressed to the point where sex dolls are able to attend soccer games without fear of being accosted. No word on how loudly they moaned for the home team.

In this "new normal" world of ours, nurses come to work in lingerie underneath see-through protective gear. Alas, it is not because they are playing the role of a sexy nurse in an adult film, but rather because no one gives them scrubs to wear underneath.

Citizens are allotted one circle per social distancing team and one tab of Soma® each, according to the strict new guidelines of our brave new world. Much like in sumo wrestling, if they step out of the circle, it's game over.

"We love plastic so much now!" exclaimed Suzie. "Before, we thought it was killing the planet, but it turns out to be the only thing keeping us alive!"

It was a standoff, but in this "new normal" of the wild, wild west, it was one like the world had never seen before. An intercom mumbled vaguely in the distance. The elevator pinged the arrival to the desired floor. And then someone coughed.

In the "new normal" of this brave new world, some of the worst casualties were the animals at the zoo. Stuck inside their enclosures, all they could do day after day was to sit, panting in the hot sun, watching as people stared at them in wonder.

"Five minutes," she was told. Five minutes was it. Five minutes to visit Inmate #8675309, the one formerly known as her mother. She'd committed no actual crime, but the mask police had come for her anyway. Now, bonding was just five minutes at a time behind a wall of glass.

The date had started normal enough. The standard "air five" across the street upon meeting. Separate cab rides to the restaurant. Prison visitation style seating. But Andrew seemed distant. Kim wondered if it was more than just the fact he couldn't hear what she was saying.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Say again?"

"Sorry, one more time!"

The new social distancing rules of our "new normal" were especially cruel to the hard of hearing.

In the "new normal" of our brave new world, neon space suits will become mandatory for going out to a club. Your suit may be rented from entertainment venues where you can be assured they are mostly cleaned and sterilized prior to use.

In our brave new world, the "new normal" of mask-wearing requires all women to be dressed entirely in masks. This may cause certain issues in the winter months such as frostbite and hypothermia, but those are consequences we are forced to accept.

The "new normal" in our brave new world requires newly-produced children to participate in a mock gun fight to prepare them for the battles over toilet paper in Costco and Walmart during the coming years.

Mask wearing shall be enforced across the board, to anyone and anything outside of residences during this "new normal" in our brave new world.

She sat in solitude. She needed another drink and some more napkins, but the serving staff would not hear her. Not with the cone of shame around her the way it was. Dining in public in this "new normal" was sometimes problematic. One always had to be prepared for the loneliness.

One bonus that we're seeing with the "new normal" in our brave new world is gold crowns given out for those who successfully demonstrate they are social distancing as an appropriate response to government demands. Silver crowns to be given out to those who dox the non-compliant.

She'd been on bad dates before, but none like this. She couldn't hear a thing the guy was saying and she couldn't excuse herself to powder her nose. She was trapped inside a cloud of her own carbon dioxide. And the waiter refused to come within six feet to refill her wine glass.

In the "new normal" of our brave new world, law enforcement was suddenly deemed problematic. A new, more enlightened law enforcement was quickly established, much to the delight of job-seeking LARPers everywhere.

While the Betas in our political sphere have not been replaced or retired, the "new normal" now requires them to pander only in uniform Kente attire from Ashanti slave traders who they have just discovered for the first time via a quick internet search.

In our "new normal," small factions splintered off from mainstream society to form their own autonomous zones, many governed by benevolent beatings and arbitrary decision-making of warlords fervently trying to appear more "Bad Santa" than "Mad Max."

In our brave new world, gardens, once a thing of the past, sprang up again in cities and communes across the land. Alas, they would bear no fruit and would soon die, as the cardboard base limited the depth of the soil they grew in.

Sleeping quarters are redefined in the "new normal" of our brave new world. As enlightenment grows, more citizens are eschewing the traditional comfort of a walled and roofed bedroom for more open air, free space zen zones. 4 AM calls of nature, however, have proven problematic.

In our "new normal," denizens may no longer venture out into the brave new world unless securely inside portable "safe zones." These "safe zones" provide a barrier from unwanted speech, give the user a sense of equality with others, and are color-coded by the user's ethnicity.

In the "new normal" of this brave new world, it took a bit to get used to the hyperbaric chamber rather than open-air dining. She had gotten the bends on several dates, and once a date passed gas so violently oxygen couldn't be pumped in fast enough and they had to be evacuated.

The chemical cleaners didn't mix well with protein supplements and if he used heavier weights the smell made him vomit, but this was the "new normal" of his brave new world. Still, the plastic safe spaces muffled the agonized grunts of the lady power-lifting next to him.

The "new normal" felt lonely in this brave new world, being assigned to a small circle of trust without the chance for close human companionship. Still, it could be worse. The empty chairs were stark reminders of what would happen if someone violated their circle of trust.

Going from "Upward Facing Dog" into the "Take Me, Instructor" pose wan't nearly as exciting as it had been prior to the new normal of this brave new world. She could feel his hands grip her thighs, but it was only her imagination; the Plexiglas yoga domes prevented that now.

In this "new normal" of our brave new world, dining out had all the perks of before—tables, chairs, napkins—but with the added refinements of asphalt flooring, dank concrete ambiance, and the smell of carbon monoxide exhaust fumes. Perfect for a family outing.

Just when she thought the "new normal" couldn't get worse, it got better. Gone were the masks, the face shields, the bandannas. In their place was a simple dog cone. It was so much more comfortable. The only downside was that she couldn't lick her own ass anymore.

The air inside the small plastic enclosures was stifling. It smelled strongly of Yellow Number Two and baby powder-covered sweat. The math problems jumped around on the page. At least the mask hides most of my crying, he thought, glancing at the clock. It seemed to tick backward.

Gone were the rows of seating. Gone was the mosh pit, the roped off section just below the stage the groupies used to press against. Now the groupies were assigned to separate enclosures. They sat, like pens of cattle, waiting for the auction to begin.

In the "new normal" of our brave new world, citizens are quick to demand all individuals have the right to believe and act exactly as they are told they should. Anyone who violates that right will be assimilated.

Stay in your squares. Do not leave the boundaries. Do not sit or lay down. Do not remove your masks and face shields. Anyone who violates these orders must report to the table in the rear of the classroom for reeducation.

They were not doctors, or nurses, or hazmat specialists, but in this brave new world, they could all play dress up and pretend that they were. And the moral superiority it afforded them was so, so nice.

Judd sensed on some level that the new uniform accoutrements weren't all they professed to be, but he understood they provided more than ample protection from the most dangerous threat: Karen, who would most definitely notice if he failed to don them.

Maria had never been camping. All she wanted was a good chicken parm and a side salad, but in this brave new world, that came with the full camping experience. All that lacked was bug spray, but with Chad's Anarchy-scented Axe Body Spray™ permeating the tent, they had that too.

Flatulence hung heavy in the icy air, like a Tupperware container of eggs left too long in a picnic basket, trapped inside the makeshift outdoor-indoor dining tent. And her sweater didn't cut much of the subzero chill. Still, in this brave new world, you took what they allowed.

Lei had had just about enough dating via social dating apps. She was tired of seeing men only on the tiny screen of her phone. So when Lu asked her out on a date, she was delighted. Little did she know they'd have to converse via their phones the whole time.

Ray had been looking forward to going out drinking with the boys for months, but barely halfway through the appetizers, the boys were already drunk enough to start playing bumper cars with the tables. Shattered glass and sticky rum drinks were everywhere, even in his underwear.

Jackie was careful. The virus was invisible, but as long as he kept it on his left and away from the breathing hole on the right side of his mask, he was safe. The only problem was that it kept fogging whenever a hot girl walked by.

This brave new world scared Linn more than she wanted to admit, and far more than she was willing to let others see. She needed to blend in, to act like all the others around her, even if it meant wearing two masks and a sawed-off two-liter bottle of Moxie over her head.

Feng hated feeding the mutants. They were horrifying, ghastly. But in this brave new world, Arie did as he was told lest "feeding the mutants" take on a whole different meaning. Still, the sight of them curdled his blood. They were hungry, and almost ready to be released.

"Let's go to Band Camp!" they had told her, but this was far from what Michelle had imagined. Sure, there were musical instruments, and there were tents, but the air was stifling and she could barely hear the other band members. She hadn't heard from the flute player in days.

Prisoner #69040 didn't know her fellow inmate's name, if she even had one. For the last year (or was it two?) she'd been trapped in a blur of color, accosted constantly by the glare of florescent lights reflecting off cheap plastic. It smelled of sterile boredom and hopelessness.

Dave and Cassandra suspected no one was around. There wasn't a speck of civilization for miles. Still, they couldn't risk it. Not when there was only a 99.6% of survival. Behind them, a mountain lion watched them intently, completely still but for a slight twitch of her tail.

Meemaw's "special casserole" was tradition, but this year it was especially bad. Ricky'd had several bites before he tasted the roadkill, and now his stomach was churning. He'd asked to be excused, but Mom hadn't understood him. With the suit on, he knew he'd never make it.

The suit was airtight. He was suffocating, gagging on the smell of his own breath. He felt the Taco Bell he'd had for lunch working its way through. Finally he'd had enough. Just before it was too late, he reached for the zipper. It didn't budge.

>I just heard the shuttle commander say we're landing, but it's too early! Mars is much further away!

<No Mom. That's the pilot, and you're coming to Cleveland to visit us. You're not on a voyage to Mars.

>Cleveland?

<Yes Mom. Only robots can fly to Mars for now.

>Cleveland?

Ricky had wanted to go to Comic-Con in San Diego, but that wasn't happening what with Dad laid off because nobody ate at restaurants anymore, but still, Covi-Con sounded alright, even if he'd never heard of it. The costumes were a bit on the cheap side, though. And they itched!

Jon was starting to regret joining parking garage track and field. At first the dank cement had been cool relief from the football field above, but days of holding his breath to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning as cars crept by searching for an open spot was starting to wear thin.

In our brave new world, human contact is shunned. Humans must grow up learning to fear the touch of another human's skin, keeping everyone at a distance of a double arm's length for fear of contamination from any foreign virus, disease, filth, bile, or compassion.

All Jim ever wanted to be was an astronaut. It was his lifelong dream. And now, thanks to the kind role players at the local Society for Creative Anachronism, he was one! He hadn't been this excited since teacher had given him the box of 64 crayons to replace the ones he'd eaten!

It had finally happened. She'd talked back to the TSA agent. In this brave new world one couldn't just say what they wanted. One bad word and it was right to the trash bin. Now there was nothing to do but wait for the sanitation crews to arrive and transport them to the landfill.

For as long as they'd live here, Frank wasn't sure they'd ever get used to the stench. Of course, there were interactive maps and apps to tell them where the feces were on the sidewalks, but it wasn't enough. Still the smell lingered. And the nose masks didn't help one bit.

They'd found a positive. He was quarantined and his vehicle incinerated. The twelfth wave had brought the quadruple mutant Mars variant, believed so contagious, social distancing had been increased to six blocks. The positive, of course, would recover quickly from the sniffles.

It had been a mistake to come to this brave new hairdresser. A huge mistake. Lee had expected... well, he wasn't sure what he had expected, but it sure wasn't to be smacked on the back of the head with a paddle for a half an hour straight. His vision was starting to double.

Gertrude was terrified. They'd told her this new hairdresser was eccentric, strange even. All they had said was that the salon was called "Gotham's Finest," and that he wore some sort of weirdly shaped "bat suit." She hadn't expected the constant under-the-breath growling.

In this brave new world, human contact is now absolutely forbidden. As you lay there alone, surrounded by the machines, you grip the inflated latex gloves with your remaining strength, trying to keep the last memories of the touch of skin from slipping away forever.

It is imperative in this time of global cold and flu season, that nurses take every opportunity to study the dance moves critical to their patients' survival. There is simply no time for anything else more trivial.

Some dance moves are so contagious that every precaution that staff cannot leave a single patch of skin exposed to the dancers. Among the other dancers, however, they are not nearly as contagious, and a simple mask will prevent the moves to be passed from one to another.

Margaret didn't approve of her sister's family's new fashion choices, but it was Easter, and she wasn't about to spoil it. They saw each other rarely enough as it was. Still, she couldn't help thinking about pulling the bottom of the plastic closed to watch them struggle for air.

Judd was as protected as he could be with Walmart-grade gear, but as he sat wrapped in the comfort of his own sanctity, he wondered if a gas mask might have better cut the thick stench of cigarette smoke from the man's breath beside him pouring through the layers of protection.

Legend has it that one day a masked piper will appear, playing a tune so muffled and yet so alluring, that masked townsfolk will follow mindlessly, mimicking every note, no matter how contradictory.

Maxie couldn't take it any longer. She yearned for the fire. She had to see it burn once more, to feel the heat. She didn't care she was well over a day early. The Soma® had already kicked in. The pupils of her eyes had already eclipsed the corneas. Oh yes, it was pyro time!

The lollypop was delicious! Suzi had been extra good, and so the sweet was her reward. They'd not only unzipped her muzzle for a few precious moments, they'd even untied her hands so she could hold it herself!

Urbanites, fed up with city life, but not yet ready to leave their creature comforts behind, try to learn the ancient art of farming on Gotham's gritty streets. Armed with only loads of manure and seed packets marked with foreign writing, their attempt was doomed from the start.

Although the street farm was doomed to fail, it didn't curb the urbanites' optimism. Undaunted at the lack of plant growth and faint odor of methane wafting from the farm, they enlisted experts: Druid priestesses from the Grove of the Desecrated Bovine. Their white magic fizzled.

She'd tried yoga, the gym, and the library. She'd tried all the dating sites.. Now, desperate for human attention, feeling the cold pavement on her naked butt cheeks and a cold chill in her heart, she faced the cold, hard facts: not even the boys in blue wanted her.

"Can't. I'm grounded. If I leave, they'll beat me."

It was their first date, and Gary knew one could never be too careful. "Wear protection!" his mother had always warned him, and Gary took those warnings to heart. Never knew who all she'd been with, after all!

Clancy had been dying for a cigarette. Jonesing for one. Now, thanks to a benevolent new regulation, he could light up, safe in the knowledge that no one would be able to smell the smoke, or any other harmful substance he might exhale. The impermeable barrier he wore saw to that!

"How do I eat it?"

"Use your hands, man. Take off the mask."

"They are theater anyway. We are all vaccinated."

"Did I tell you I'm gonna ban these burgers in a bit? Well, technically ration 'em — one per month."

"Why?"

"I'm telling the rubes it's to 'save Mother Earth!'"