It has become reality, finally. The Day of the Triffids, this story of a dystopian world where the ones who survived the carnage of the war are then attacked and killed by plants. As a threat, this could barely be worse because the majority of the people had gone blind after watching a meteor shower that was meant to be a harmless entertainment during post-war reconstruction. Surrounded by permanent darkness, they could not see what comes at them, the viciously snarling tongues, the thick clouds of green dust that these invaders use to slay their prey. The Triffids of 2020 stay also invisible whilst trying to satisfy their craving for human flesh. Even though we have not lost our eyesight, we are unable to see when they attack us with their sneeze of particles nor do we feel the sting of their first contact. Yet these invaders from outer space are not quite like the ones described by Wyndham in 1951. They have evolved. Before they start to devour us by eating our lungs whilst we are still alive, they use our bodies as hosts and to travel around expanding their population with each encounter. The Triffids of 2020 love globe trotters, jetsetters, commuters, and everyone in between. All of us are fertile ground, without us they cannot live, with them we may die. To do what we love, what defines us as individuals has become suspicious and potentially dangerous not only to one but all the ones with whom we share the air. Hundred days in, we have learned to distance ourselves and keep safe. We vigorously wash hands as if we were Pilatus and the sins of selfishness and human greed could be revoked. Masks to cover our breaths have become the norm, a stroll in the neighbourhood is now a highlight of the day. Many have developed a craving for a change of scenery, to leave where they live behind even if it were for a few hours. The only safe way is to use virtual simulation as within the digital realm air cannot yet travel. This is hard and even the socially introverted crave the company of others. Sometimes we gently touch the screen, share some words and the air with our neighbours across the road to briefly forget and feel alive. Only few can see the triffids within their hosts, they wear special glasses or have learnt to squint, like artists, at an early age. There are also the brave ones that risk their lives caring for the injured or working on new ways to kill the Triffids as the salt water cure does not work anymore. The rest have to hope, are reduced to waiting, whilst seeing the world as they know it crumbling. They dream and travel in their minds, they can make plans for a reconstruction, work hard at staying human and kind. The Triffids have returned but so has spring and so will summer.