I still couldn’t believe that I had managed to leave the capital. Before that, I had gone through a bureaucratic hurdle race. I had to enter all my personal data digitally at a private company. Then I was tested in the central laboratory. With friendly brutality, I received unmistakable instructions. A double-protected employee pushed a chopstick deep into my throat for a few seconds. The test result could now be retrieved digitally. I was negative. And so I was allowed to travel. ––– Perhaps all this was just the beginning. This is where long-term business models emerged to capture and perfect the digital identity of travellers.
On my forays, I discovered the huge crater rim and the large research station. The road to the rocky massif was closed off and secured with laser barriers. Day by day, I became more distant from the conditions in the north from which I had fled, even though I still followed the news. The steep canyons of the island seemed impassable, especially when the clouds drifted through quickly. But the inhospitable beauty of the island also filled me with melancholy. I felt a painful separation from my familiar surroundings and the people who had stayed behind. At the same time, I sensed that it would never be the same again as I remembered it.
Information reached me that entire regions had been virtually sealed off and even train traffic had been stopped in between. Other sectors had been declared test areas and were subject to the strictest regulations. There were demands to refrain from every social contact – preferably in voluntary “self-isolation” – and to maintain as sterile an environment as possible. According to official surveys, a majority of the population seemed to agree with all the measures. But already new, even more dangerous mutations were on the horizon. I became aware that there was no real escape even on the periphery. Suddenly I feared that I would not be able to get out of the red zone after returning and would be trapped.
