March 27. Ran the half marathon again. Fifteen minutes faster. Then went to the restaurant down here in the building, where I sat between plexiglass panels in the makeshift hut on the street. I ordered brunch, and the waitress asked: any allergies, instructions? No, nothing, really nothing. Just what’s on the menu.

MIT’s Scratch programming platform has become, pandemically, a social network. The projects are like tweets. They’re little music videos, programmed by the students, with increasingly sophisticated effects. And then there are likes and loves for the projects, and the comments are where all the social life happens. My daughter has four hundred followers. Someone steals her logo and pretends to be her. The admins mistakenly block her account, there are tears. We write mails to the admins, and after a few hours everything is fine again. For many there it seems unexpected that she is female, and it causes increased attention. It scares the hell out of me.