Just a couple of years ago we were complaining about traffic jams on Sheikh Zayed Road, and today the main problem is catching the alarm signal in time.
Life has turned into a strange hybrid of a futuristic мегаполис and a frontline zone. The most striking thing is how quickly “emergency mode” became routine. We look at the lock screen, see a missile threat warning, and the first thought is not “we’re all going to die” but “I hope this doesn’t drag on, I have an important meeting in 15 minutes.”
Home has become the ultimate fortress, and a multifunctional one at that. In one room dad is trying to keep a straight face on a remote call while in the next the kids are in yet another online class.
We’ve all become experts in the “safe zones” inside our own apartments, knowing by heart where the load-bearing walls are and whether we’re far enough from the panoramic windows. Remote work has gone from a privilege to the only way to keep the economy and education going when the sky above your head becomes unstable.
Despite the heaviness of the moment, there’s something strangely unifying about it. We’re all in the same boat, tucked away in our cozy “bunkers” with views of the Burj Khalifa or the snug local villas in Umm Suqeim.
Yes, it’s scary. Yes, this is not the future we were promised in ad spots. But we keep working, learning, and even joking in chats between alerts. We’ve adapted. And perhaps that’s our main victory — not letting fear stop ordinary, if “remote,” life.