There was nothing better for business than a global pandemic, Frank had discovered, and he was all for it. Moving club meetings online was trivial, and when coupled with Pranav's endeavors to expand the club to college campuses, had given Frank a far wider audience: it was like shooting fish in a barrel, he quipped, to convince legions of bored high school and college students online to socialize with their peers and talk about philosophy. His online lecture series, finally putting all those high-quality videos they had saved from the beginning to good use, was approaching hundreds of thousands of views. This came with its trade-offs: it was remarkably difficult to convince Epsilons they were subhuman via a computer screen, despite Jason's addition of push notifications to TigerTalk reminding people to control their lives at home just as they were controlled at school. Being a good person had never been easier, and a few weeks into the pandemic, he maintained this sunny attitude when calling Juliet for their weekly check-in.

"That Wall Street Journal reporter wanted to know if we were free next Friday for the interview—that should work, right, before our all-hands check-in?" Frank asked, quickly changing his Zoom background from his usual view of Heller to his actual background of a slightly disheveled bedroom.

"Next Friday, that's my mom's birthday. We were going to cook dinner for her—well, I was going to say I couldn't make it because we'd be going out, but since we're stuck at home anyway, yeah, that works," Juliet said. "I miss going out and doing things—seeing people. Now all I see are club members on Zoom, on Discord, or in those endless email threads."

"Well, what stops you from going out for a walk or helping buy groceries? We're in a pandemic, not a complete lockdown."

"My parents still have to work at the restaurant, and they're scared of COVID—and because my grandma's with us too, and obviously she's in more danger than any of us. My job is to stay here and keep her company. To protect her."

"That's very nice of you, being so dutiful like that. You're a good daughter."

"I get the feeling you aren't bothered at all by this pandemic. You've never complained once about it—it's only how war is good for business and that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But people are dying all around us. Doesn't that bother you?" This made Frank pause a moment.

"It does, but it's out of my control. So does Friday work still, or should we reschedule?"

"Friday is fine."

On the other end of town, John was working with a different set of priorities. What had begun as a brief bout of "self-care" turned into "extended me time" and "soul-searching," and with it came a narrowing of his social circle to Beth, his family, and for fifty-minute increments, his classmates. He still attended the club meetings, but he left his camera off, and often was asleep during them or texting Beth—if Frank were not only concerned with riding the crest of his newfound popularity, he might have identified John as someone who was slipping through the cracks. Every day was the same: he'd wake up, make himself a bowl of cereal, open his window and press his face to the screen, log onto his Zoom classes, do exactly ten jumping jacks before eating lunch, go to the club meeting, back to Zoom classes, and then sit back down in his chair. He was under the impression there was an imprint forming in the cushion, like a scar.

If all the world were a stage, John's had a small set, and with that his mind was free to wander and, out of half-remembered memories construct a better version of Heller than the one he had left. It was a world with his embarrassing moments blurred over—here, he had not awkwardly evaded Regina's advances for the better part of a year, or spent a week watching Frank and Juliet engage in what was, in retrospect, the beginnings of young love. It was a peaceful world: one where people didn't wear masks that made them look like 21st century plague doctors outside, and where people like Beth existed as fleshy beings to admire and not holograms. It was a world where they were to have a prom that wasn't everyone dressing up in suits and creating a PowerPoint with their pictures. It was happy.

After a few weeks of this hermetic lifestyle, his parents had suggested to him he take afternoon walks. They said it was so he could clear his head and find inspiration, but they were more concerned about his ghostly pallor, and one day after class John had taken his first step into his brave new world. He walked gingerly: the sun was the same as he remembered, lightly caressing his skin, and the breeze was still the same breeze he remembered and hopefully not one carrying COVID particles. The streets were the same as before, and when he took off his mask (as much as he viewed paranoia as a sign of intelligence, it really was annoying to wear), he could forget that he was tethered to his house. Sometimes, if he went a certain way at the right time, he would see Harry and Daisy walking together, six feet apart. They waved to him, he waved back, and they would continue on their way. They looked so happy, so unbothered, by everything around them. And so they became a fixture of John's fantasy world too: here, reframed, it was less clear that they possessed something he didn't.

One day, his walk led him to an observation point raised above the salt marsh, overlooking the Bay. If he strained his eyes, he could see San Francisco shrouded in fog. Here, it was just him and the wind. He could sit there for hours, and if it weren't so cold he would have done it. Sitting anywhere didn't make much of a difference to him as long as he could sit and remain defined by inaction. If he willed hard enough, Beth was there next to him. He had always tried to pitch her on joining him, but she always had an excuse: her parents were scared of COVID, she was too tired, she had Bible study, or in an ironic twist, she was too busy on the club Minecraft server. So close, and yet so far.

The interview with the Wall Street Journal reporter had gone well, and Frank was thankful that most news outlets that picked up on their story did so in a way that brushed over the thornier elements. It wasn't the new Third Wave: it was a spring cleaning of society ala Marie Kondo, a political reimagining that pundits could gladly link to Gen Z's penchant for irony or their distaste of "toxicity" and not celery juice. When on camera, Frank spun himself as a concerned citizen with greater priorities than computer fonts and bubble teas. He even used the rhetorical framework from AP English: he had exigence, a pandemic; an audience, high school and college students who suddenly found themselves without a purpose now that the grind had been put on pause; and a purpose, to come back stronger and happier.

After the interview came out, John Oliver had done a segment on his movement, pointing out the remarkable mental gymnastics Frank had done to go from rickrolling his audience to teaching them Stoicism—the segment's tone was positive, John Oliver tactfully explaining Frank's use of irony in a way that was better than any muddled explanation he'd given himself. In a way, the jig was up at that point: when someone in a delightful British accent spent an entire segment replacing his usual obscenities with "cellulose" and "Bosnia-Herzegovina," it was clear that nobody involved was taking themselves too seriously. But that apathy was trendy, so it was all right, and the movement persisted. People had begun using #GoodPerson to sarcastically call out those seen as violating the social code, and Frank's email was overloaded with requests for him to serve as an arbitrator for moral injustices; his mom had suggested he create a "Dear Prudence" newspaper column, while Juliet suggested he pander to his audience and make a TikTok.

He elected to do neither, and continue with his daily routine: war was good for business, but that wasn't going to stop him from living humbly. The downside of co-running a nation-wide operation a bit too big for its britches was that it didn't matter how many talk show hosts made jokes at your expense, someone still had to write the speeches, secure internships, and pay the bills. And, in Frank's case, he still had his weekly check-ins with Juliet:

"We've made it, Juliet. We're on top of the world. Yeah, I'd say my week went well. How has yours been? Everything good on the home front?" Frank asked, unblurring his Zoom background.

"Popo's been doing her exercises still, and misses walking outside. I've tried to explain to her I'm not the one keeping her inside, but I think she blames me for not sneaking her to the park. Sometimes we sit in the front yard and relax, and I hope that's good enough for her."

"That's good to hear, but I meant more, like, business."

"Oh, that's going well—I don't think about it much. My priorities are elsewhere, but I really appreciate too how you've entrusted me with so many more responsibilities. Now if you could get my name mentioned on these talk shows or in those newspapers too, that would be great. What do you always say, there's no 'I' in 'team'?"

"We still made it. Even if I'm the one who's getting the credit for it, it's still us. And ultimately, no matter how much we get fringe coverage in the media, we're a little blip in the news cycle. Nobody over the age of 21 really cares about us, and that's fine too. You aren't missing out on anything," Frank explained, casting one eye on the printed-out newspaper headlines he kept on his wall above his computer monitor.

"You never change one bit, Frank. There could be an asteroid crashing into us and you'd still talk about how branded celery juice sales had doubled and at least death would be swift and painless. Is there anything at all that bothers you about this? Don't you miss normal life?"

"This is the new normal. Do I miss speaking to crowds? Do I mention the concept of crowds in general? I miss them all. I miss them really badly. Sometimes I watch older videos of my lectures just so I can see everyone back together. Franklin Barnes, being sentimental. You'd have never expected it."

"I was thinking that we should do something together sometime that isn't for business. Watch a movie or something. Solve a jigsaw puzzle together. Anything to break the routine," Juliet said.

"I've done so many jigsaw puzzles with my parents at this point I think I could solve one blindfolded. I'd be down. How about next Friday?"

"Deal—it's a date."

"Not a date."

"Whatever you say..." Juliet teased, and then they got down to business.

While before he had little reason to humor Juliet, quarantine had softened Frank, and it had only taken hundreds of people online telling him how awesome he was to think that an awesome person like himself deserved a microdose of happiness. They had become closer over quarantine to compensate for their physical distance: one time Juliet's parents had walked in on their Zoom call, and Frank made what was probably his second or third self-introduction. They were happy to hear of his continued success, and had thanked him for being her friend, which he realized was something one typically only said of another if there were few friends to speak of. She was growing on him, and their mutual understanding that Frank may have told a few fibs over the past few years but in reality that was what a good person did had improved matters.

Beth had convinced John to join the club Minecraft server, and she had spirited him away to her plot a few hundred thousand blocks away from the central hub to a little island she had found in the ocean, just big enough for a mansion and a garden fit for two. Every day they tackled a new renovation: building a dock that faced the sunset, or expanding the wine cellar (John was unbothered by how there was no wine in Minecraft, saying every proper home needed a wine cellar). All while John's real world blurred, his trash can slowly filling with granola bar wrappers and his walking routes becoming so routine he lost all conscious memory of being outside, his fantasy world ballooned to cover his field of vision. In his dreams, he imagined the same mansion, just more textured, and with real Beth by his side, not just an avatar. For a multiplayer game, their experience was remarkably solitary: occasionally they saw a boat passing by the horizon, as if to remind them that their side of paradise was a generous gift of the club, but it was just them. When Beth asked what they should name the island, John suggested Tahiti: it was a magical place, and one they'd much rather be at.

"I really like what you've done with this dock. It looks authentic," Beth said, sprint-jumping over to where John was standing to drop him some bread.

"I've spent hours sitting on this little platform out by the Bay, you know, by Dolphin Head Park. Watching nature, watching San Francisco. I modeled it after that one. I was thinking I'd add a gazebo in the backyard too. Another place for us to sit. And I was even thinking that with all the mining I've been doing, I could terraform the land a bit to give us more space to build. If we'd want that. We could build that Japanese garden you've always been talking about."

"It sounds lovely. Maybe I'll walk there sometime, see what the hype is about."

"You should. I always go for my walks after school. Still warm, but the sun isn't at its highest, and I can stay as long as I want without worrying about sunset."

"That's smart. So I was thinking for the Japanese garden, we could build another island. From the ground up, so it looks authentic. And we could build a new chicken farm underneath, so we have more food and can trade more with our villagers! Great idea. This is going to look so great when it's done."

"I just hope we can finish it before the school year's over. My mom says that COVID is going to be gone by summer and we'll be back outside doing our normal activities again. We'll finally get to see each other."

"COVID's not going anywhere," Beth said. "My mom said that Dr. Kevorkian thinks we'll have to deal with this for years. Until there's a completely effective vaccine. She's stocked up for the long haul, too—I think we have more hand sanitizer than the hospital. You have to face it: this is the new normal."

"I'm not a doctor, so I don't know, but... I'd rather hope. Otherwise it's far too easy to become depressed, and that's the last thing I want."

"Whatever you say... shall we call it a night?"

"I guess so. Love you."

"Love you too."

Frank had nearly forgotten in his constant tumult that he had promised Juliet a jigsaw puzzle and some company until his parents asked him that afternoon if he wanted to help them work on the new puzzle they'd bought; he excused himself, grabbed himself a hefty snack, and made it back to his room with a few minutes to spare. The jigsaw puzzle, grabbed from a site that provided online versions of famous artworks, was already in his bookmark folder titled "Fun with Juliet," a change from the previous "Killing Time"; he wanted to do Hokusai, but doing The Great Wave off Kanagawa felt unoriginal. Ejiri in Suruga Province was more whimsical, and a better reflection of the world they lived in. A few minutes later, at exactly the appointed time—and not five minutes early—Juliet joined. She was wearing her usual smart casual that had become more established over quarantine (it was a tough sell telling people they ought to wear suits inside their own home), and turned the tables by asking Frank first how he was.

"This is the first time in so long it's been just us, no business. How's it going? How are you? Gosh, it's like I'm seeing you again as a new person!" Juliet said pleasantly.

"Oh, I'm great. Thinking about a lot of things, business and otherwise, but I'm glad to be in the moment. Do you want to talk, or should we just try to speedrun this?"

"Of course I want to talk! Why else would I be doing this? So, wise one, what's been bugging you?"

"I've been reassessing a lot of things, how I interact with the world. All of your talk about the pandemic changing people has gotten to me. I feel like I haven't grown. I've been doing the same things I always have, and they aren't sinking in as well as they should. My relationships have suffered—what makes a good relationship, in your opinion? You seem to have yourself together a bit more, emotionally." Juliet blushed.

"Well, a good relationship is where both people grow. We're approaching the end of high school: this is the perfect opportunity to grow into the person you want to be, or to reassess how your existing relationships are doing. Look at us, now, doing something so personal just for the heck of it. That's growth, right? We'd never be doing this if not for quarantine."

"You're right. It's so weird. You know that feeling when you aren't sure if you like someone or not, but you still care for them and you want to make them happy even if you don't actually 'like' them?" Frank asked in a half-rhetorical sense. "That's a good relationship to me: no matter how much you change, there's still that common ground. You two would do anything for each other. And it's not like you need it sanctified with any one thing: there's pleasure in the simple things, like this jigsaw puzzle, and even if we never have this sort of memory again I'll still treasure it fondly."

"I know that feeling! I think I feel it too."

"And maybe growth is learning to recognize that even if it's not lust or a passionate love where you can think of nobody else, that you can still find it within you to love someone and work past your own uncertainty," Frank said, his breath slowing as the moment's epiphany took hold.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Who cares about item 19, am I right?"

"Yeah, who could like whatever loser wrote that?" Juliet laughed.

"What a simpleton."

They continued working on the puzzle for a few hours, spending more time chatting than dragging pieces together. It didn't feel nearly as satisfying at the end to see the finished product because it was two-dimensional: it could have been a picture they took from Google. A real puzzle had heft, texture: pieces with the ends peeling off, that one piece that got knocked off the table under someone's chair. But Frank and Juliet were too focused on each other and the simple act of creating meaning to think about any of that. Frank ended their call with an "I love you" that he spent far too long working up the courage to say, and was going to log off immediately afterward in shame if Juliet hadn't said the same back to him. They waved goodbye again, and then logged off.

John was not used to seeing anyone sitting at his favorite observation platform, and approached with trepidation until, in a flash of intuition, he recognized the figure looking out at the Bay. The closer he walked, the more details became apparent: her hair, her clasped hands, her smile as she turned toward him.

"What took you so long to make it here?" John asked, gingerly maintaining his six feet of distance while trying to give the facial equivalent of a passionate embrace.

"Oh, after you mentioned how nice this was that time on the Minecraft server I started coming for walks here every few days. But I always had gone in the mornings, except today I slept in, so I had to go later to make up for it. It's nice. I can see the appeal."

"I thought your parents didn't want you going on walks or anything like that."

"I convinced them that people who got fresh air and exercise were less at risk for COVID. And I also think that my mom is less paranoid now. She's started to accept this for what it is. It's tough for all of us, I know, but we have to work through it," Beth explained. "Besides, I wanted to see you."

"You could have just texted me or something and we could have coordinated, saving you the trouble. I wanted to see you too, but after you kept saying no to going for walks I abandoned the idea. I lost hope. Playing Minecraft with you is fun, but it can't match this."

"I worked on the Japanese garden a bit more this morning; I finished the island and started the layout a bit more. I've been looking at videos of Japanese and Chinese temples to get a feel for what's authentic. And it's been a good escape: I can forget I'm stuck at home."

"Home is nice and all, but I can see how the routine gets tiresome. I daydream a lot, you know, and I've been starting to think it's a coping mechanism. I've become a lot more self-aware of my bad habits, but there's only so much I can do to grow. I hope I can. College is coming up soon and I want to make sure I'm ready."

"If we're not stuck attending it over Zoom."

"I have hope. What did Dickinson say again, 'hope is a many-splendored thing'? We'll make it through this, and find that brighter future out there. It's only what we make today, even if it seems like we have no control over it. We can't cure COVID, but we can at least take care of the small things."

"If we are stuck over Zoom, as much as I want to explore New York, at least we'll still have our island."

"We'll always have Tahiti," John said, and they sat there, on their socially-distant benches, for a few minutes until Beth grew cold and motioned to leave. They exchanged their goodbyes, a wave and blown kiss, and Beth left. John still felt he had some thinking to do, and he moved to Beth's bench, which was slightly warmer than his. It would be a bit depressing if he'd have to come back to this place year after year like a bird returning home to roost, staring at the Bay and imagining forested paths in Maine. Perhaps he could go into art, try sketching something or other. He could probably sketch this place from memory if he tried. In his mind's eye, it was alive with shorebirds. A humpback whale breached in the distance. Quiet orchestral music played. That was why he liked daydreaming so much: things stayed fresh, and if he wanted the same thing over and over again, he could handpick a happy memory. In any case, no matter if COVID waxed or waned, or if he'd ever see anything but the Bay again, he'd always have Tahiti.

Discussion Questions:

Many of these recent chapters have been endings of various sorts. Which ending presented has been most satisfying, in your opinion? The romantic end with COVID, Frank's murder, the original, something else? Keep your eyes peeled for more endings.

Do you think in the real world Frank would have been able to get this much attention, if only everything had been online?

What thematic connections are there between this and previous stories?