The world is closing down around us. Not everything has been cancelled yet, but it's not hard to imagine how it's going to play. What's taking Olympics bosses so long to face the facts? How long before the buses and trains stop running? Why are any planes at all still flying?
In this halfway time we cling to what normality we can, and that's not a bad thing. We still go out, but take care doing so and expect everyone around us will do the same.
Meanwhile, SkyCity has closed the pokies but kept its roulette wheels turning. Presumably, you now have to stand two metres away and throw your chips onto the table, placing your bet wherever they land, with no way to choose your own lucky numbers. Hot tip: this will not affect your chances of losing.
The restaurants and bars are closing, the cinemas and food halls are emptying out too. Many shops will follow. Polyfest is off, as was Pasifika, as is The Book of Mormon at the Civic, as is the rugby, netball and many other sports. Spark Sport will be free to air: maybe send your requests now for replays of the glorious games of old. The spotlight goes on schools.
At time of writing, the Auckland Arts Festival, with almost two weeks still to run, is still on, although they say they're following Ministry of Health guidelines.
That contradiction seems unlikely to last: the Aotea Centre, town hall and Civic hold more than 500 people; the spiegeltent is smaller but the seats are so jammed in you almost have to sit in each other's laps. Not quite what the architects of social distancing guidelines are hoping for.
More soberly, the Auckland Writers Festival, easily among the biggest events on the Auckland calendar (83,000 tickets last year), was announced last week for May and cancelled this week.
Big citizenship ceremonies are off, other celebrations too. You can have a small wedding, and think of it as something to tell your grandchildren.
We will recover. We want it to be all of us that recover, which is why it is tough now and about to get tougher.
There is a national fuel plan and before long there will be a national everything plan. Finance Minister Grant Robertson called it "a fight with an outside force beyond our control, which is wreaking havoc around the globe". The biggest thing to happen to this country – and the world – since World War II.
The 21st century has arrived. And in some places it looks scarily like the Middle Ages.
At least it's not like the movies. We've seen some pushing and shoving over toilet paper but there's no killing going on. We're not biting each other, either, not barricaded into our homes as zombies clump their way through the streets.
Still, a bit of movie magic wouldn't go amiss. Those virus movies always end with a miracle cure, and always with the entire remaining population being given it.
This pandemic is shocking and not just because it could kill some of us, nor because, for a period at least, it could ruin the livelihoods of a great many of us. It is also shocking because we didn't know it would be like this. We've had no practice in thinking about this kind of pandemic.
Creeping up on us slowly, mostly mild symptoms, but with much higher transmission and casualty rates than the viruses that have gone before. Evidence from overseas tells us children spread it more easily but it's the elderly who suffer most. Grandparents will not be the best people to help with the kids if they have to be off school.
Putting a human face on the risk is hard. If it spreads fully through the community, then in an office of 50 people of mixed ages, one person might die. In a shopping mall with 500 staff, that might be five people.
In a retirement village with 500 residents, the fatality rate could be 15 per cent and that would mean 75 people die. We currently have 43,000 people living in retirement villages. A big response is a good response.
There are some things we can be very thankful for. Such as, we don't live in Britain. Their approach is shocking. They hope for quick "herd immunity" by accepting the disease will spread far and wide, even though that could mean 77,000 people die. Only mad dogs and Englishmen, as Noel Coward sang so long ago, go out in the midday sun. It's a response you might expect from a Government with little experience in being human.
The 21st century has arrived but it's not really like the Middle Ages, not here. Our civic institutions, in this case led by health specialists and hospitals, have stood up. The containment policies have been effective. The Prime Minister has said to doctors, "If you think you need to test, test." That's good.
We're not going to keep it out, or simply stamp it out, but we know the drill now and we're practising it: scrutiny, testing, contact tracking, self-isolation, cleanliness with soap and sanitiser, social distancing. All of us are somewhere in the chain.
The economic package seems right, too. It's good that wage subsidies will be paid through employers: that will help keep companies together and allow the economy to bounce back more easily, when it's time. It's good benefits are rising.
Look after the most vulnerable and do what can be done to stop more of us joining their ranks. They are the principles by which to measure good government in a crisis. Strengthen the healthcare response, prepare for the next round of economic and social help. Those are vital too.
Now it's time for some lateral thinking. Better home delivery services, and not just for groceries and meals? How about libraries? Invent new games to play in public parks, everyone keeping their distance? Better community relations: who's at risk in your street and how can the neighbours help? Got a Facebook page?
Look after each other. Especially the elderly. Work out how to enjoy being together, only not so close. Be more cautious than you thought you needed to be: you're doing it for all of us. Stay home if you think there's any reason to. Wash your hands.