139 the trolley problem, inverted

August 02, 2020

Yesterday, my brother brought up a new "trolley problem."

He was riding the "T" in Boston. There was a six car train.

And for the sake of argument, let's say there were twelve people waiting to get on, and the train was completely empty.

Now, he was wearing an N95 mask, and they have a 6ft social distancing rule. So where did he sit?

It would make sense that everyone spread out as much as possible, right?

But that's not what happened. Instead, the conductor saw the number of passengers, saw that they could all sit six feet apart in two cars, and if they closed the other four cars, the conductor would have less distance to walk.

So the passengers were forced to sit like this:

Which is where the whole "droplet" vs. "airborne" conversation becomes very relevant.

If the virus is spreading only by droplets, then sitting six feet away from the next person should help you out, even in an enclosed space. Gravity will force the droplet to the ground before it becomes an issue.

But if the virus travels on air, from breathing and talking, as more and more evidence suggests, the danger level has everything to do with the number of people in a space and for how long.

In other words, bad move MBTA.

One of the second-guessing questions Deb asked me about her new truck is, "can we convert it to biodiesel when gas runs out?"

The answer is, anything is possible, but at that point we might as well put on our Mad Max outfits and go carjack a diesel truck, because that's the world we'll be living in.

Or will it? Maybe we'll see a kinder, gentler evolution of the human condition. After all, when people looked at the 21st century from the past, they saw flying cars and global equality, not fake news and jumbo slurpees. (Ok, maybe they saw that, too.) We're constantly getting things wrong.

But seriously, how long is gas going to last? Lots of people only say another thirty years, with it becoming harder and harder to get.

I also talked with my mom yesterday, and she asked me to ask us all to hold this thought: "Thank you for the miracle that is happening."

So, what is that miracle? When I think about the most peaceful, productive outcome of our current situation, here's what I see.

The streets, emptied of cars, filled in with outdoor venues, shopping and dining.

Above, my mom's beloved solar personal rapid transportation quietly soars people and our bubbles around the city.

Empty retail shops and offices are converted to housing, downtown is lively and vibrant after dark and on the weekends.

People are actively engaged in the world around us, cleaning it up, making it nice, and building infrastructure for a sustainable future.

People have also gone deep into a virtual world, creating new occupations, careers, and activities that expand our thinking, bring us joy and connection, and reduce our consumption.

There are no "have nots," everyone lives a decent quality of life.

The animals and plants we call "nature" have rebounded, and are plentiful once again.

People move around the globe carefully, with a small impact, and a deep appreciation for where they are.

And young people? They learn in small groups, actively engaged in their subject matter in a real-world way.

Speaking of young people, and learning, there is currently a big debate about reopening schools some places. (SF long ago decided that wasn't happening.)

Anecdotally, based on my limited reading and news following, it won't be happening elsewhere, either.

There was the school near New York that reopened, only to have an outbreak on day one, and close.

There was the camp in Georgia, where every camper had to show up with a negative test result. Six hundred campers showed up, all negative. A week later, three hundred kids went home positive, and the camp reshut.

There was the meeting of forty school administrators, one of whom later tested positive, and all had to quarantine for two weeks.

I'm sure there might be some success stories, but I haven't heard them yet.