Ilizwi gets so mad watching the news links reporting on crowds out there despite the Red Burn spreading through the Solari Empire, and the whole world.

They say not to watch the news too much, too long. Don't watch that stream all day. You don't need to know everything. Put your mental health first. She likes her free Story fine, but most nights she watches six hours of news when she gets done with work-from-home work.

And so she's outraged. When the Red Burn first started and her office closed, she stayed home for eight weeks, no problem. The exceptions were a twenty-five minute walk for her health in the evening, after the sun went down, when no one else was out, and once a week a trip to a store, never on a weekend, never at peak time.

They said don't touch anyone; Ilizwi didn't touch anyone.

They said don't come near anyone; she didn't go near anyone.

They said wear a bubble over your face when you go out, and even though those magic bubbles were neither free nor a hundred percent effective, she paid for the bubble covering her mouth and nose like they said to every single day.

What drove her crazy was that others didn't. At first, those night walks she had had the streets to herself. The night walks had been alone. Empty. No moto traffic. No motos in the sky, and none in the street, so if she did see anyone, she could walk in the middle of the road to keep distance.

Back then she almost felt she was being the bad one, walking the city streets when everyone else was staying inside and taking Story.

As the months went on, she wasn't the only one who went out anymore. To get exercise, to break out of the sedentary, Story'd out lifestyle for a walk or a run. Safe in her bubble she started to go out during the day, because the missing Vitamin D in her life could cause seasonal depression, low mood, low energy. So she walked in her bubble, didn't touch anyone, didn't talk to anyone. Went home and watched six hours of the news, slept, and started another day.

The cycle played day in and day out, and the newscasters would develop the story of the Red Burn. They used to call it the Dreaming Death when it first started, but a new name had taken over. People still asked, Why call it the Red Death when you couldn't see any sign of red? Why not keep calling it the Dreaming Death?

Didn't they watch the news? It burned you from the inside, and only a spell made up of millions of nano links inside the body could show that your innards were being illuminated by a red glow.

This magic supervirus was infecting you from the inside and breaking your body down. It's terrifying. The death rate and viral rate were high, and when you see the images of the ill from the inside out, it's nauseating.

Still, as the news shows, crowds of people aren't content to stay separate or keep sheltered in a bubble spell. They want to embrace, to throw themselves on each other, to walk down the street without making room for pedestrians going the other way, to make another lane; they wanted to be careless and go on like nothing else was happening.

Ilizwi felt safe as long as she shelled out for a bubble spell every time, and as long as no one came close to her — but when she walked the city in the afternoon sunlight, it was like everyone else came right at her. Lots wore the bubble, an ocean glimmer sphere around their bodies, but lots more didn't bother. It was always her. Always her and never them who made room for another pedestrian lane and who wore the bubble mask.

These crazy people! The newscasters said they would keep spreading it that way! If you wanted to talk to someone you could open a teleportation link in your living room, you didn't need to go outside! You didn't need to take the link for a walk, ignoring where you were going and shouting into the call, spreading your spittle as you go. If you wanted to party, take a Story!

And then there was escapism the old fashioned way: conk out watching a movie, read a book for stars sake.

Ilizwi was going insane, and when her friends called they told her to stop watching the news stream.

"Take a break, take a Story at night. It's good for mental health. The Story creates similar brain waves to dreaming, rather than turning your brain off. Your brain is at work, but it's restful, imaginative work that provides restoration. Just like REM sleep."

"You really need it right now. You're stressing your mind by watching that newsreel all day. Treat it like therapy. Take your stars damn Story, girl!"

What, she should tune out the truth? Turn a blind eye? She needed to see what they were doing!

One weekend night she went out for a walk late. Because she needed to see it with her own eyes. The party street was two blocks down. Every store was closed, every bar, every restaurant, lounge, cafe, but they made their own speakeasy bars, brought out their own bottles. There it was, the raging crowd. Ilizwi stood a mile away and watched them carouse with their drinks. No jealousy, she didn't even want that kind of action. She was an indoor cat, an introvert, a bookworm.

She was happy to stay in and stay home, why couldn't these crazy people be?

Raging in her mind she walked back home, and her mind kept raging into the night. She couldn't sleep, so she took a Story. Better to induce the REM sleep and dream waves forcefully.

When the dream was done, three hours later, she did conk right out and sleep a good eight hours. Work could wait, she showed up late, and her manager didn't give her any trouble. At the end of the work from home day, she turned on the news.

Millions have died. It's incredibly good for the animus pool, the newscasters say. Millions can have starborns now, if a person were inclined to bring a baby into a world where you're not supposed to go outside or touch anyone. They say millions more are unemployed, but it would be okay, it would shake up bad old systems. Sounds like the newscasters are finding a bright side to mass death and Ilizwi's months and months to years of solitude in a small box.

Her routine continues, news until she's enraged and needs to go outside to see the party from afar, a trip out to 9th street to see them. Insomnia, a Story, and then solid sleep. That's how her year passes, it's meaningless, and it hurts, and it doesn't get better.

And it was all their fault. It wasn't her fault. It was the fault of the Spreaders. She wished them the worst. She hoped they would suffer. It was the only thing that got her through the day. The thought of viral karma.

She has a dream one night, and that's now she knows she has the Red Burn.

The Dreaming Death, they called it, because you would dream of everyone you passed it along to.

Just one girl. Her name was Huan. One day Ilizwi tried to save on her bubble spell, she didn't shell out, she thought she could keep her distance from people, when out of nowhere this jogger runs around her in a loop, and Ilizwi sucks her breath in and thinks, What a lunatic, you're going to kill someone!

Ilizwi dreams of Huan and never goes outside again. She pays high prices for linked groceries. She dreams of Huan, symptom free, partying in the street. Touching and being touched. Breathing and being breathed on. As the week goes by in the dream Huan seems all right except for a little sniffle. So far.

A/N: Writers have messages. Writers believe. Writers hold opinions and infuse their writing with what they believe in. Constellations is fueled by some very strong beliefs about how we should treat each other and the truth behind how we do treat each other in reality.

Yet as a writer I have an easier time casting an enemy in a warm light, showing compassion even to a villain, than throwing shade on those I love.

That's why this Covid19 story has been hard for me to release. It feels like an accusation against good people who want nothing but to take everything life has to offer and refuse to give it up. That's why I'm asking for everyone's thoughts on this one.

Is it too harsh on those who risk the pandemic to grab a drink with a friend?

Please let me know. I'm sure there will be many folks who stayed inside and will agree that no party is worth your life; I wanted to write a story with a good old fashioned "what if" to show the other side how we feel. "What if" every time the virus passes to another person, you would dream about that person's experience with the illness? What if you couldn't turn away from the impact the virus has? What if the visions wouldn't leave you alone?

With that said, I've include a trigger warning for anyone who has lost a loved one to the coronavirus; you are loved and we all care for you. The folks I've interacted with reading this book have been nothing but compassionate and kind, lovely friends. You're sure to find support here and all over Wattpad, this is a great place to be, a little refuge on the internet, in my experience. Be well <3