What now?

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In a world where reality tv blends seamlessly into reality, cue the tense music, cue the credits.

Next time: Will the big boss enter the war to save Israel from itself, or will he sit back and let Israel keep pounding away at lesser nuclear facilities in Iran, urging us on from the sidelines? (Cue clip: Nobody knows what I’ll do.)

Will a new round of nuclear talks produce results with an administration that is used to working in 44-minute-length episodes, or will their self-imposed deadline pass without any progress?

Here in Israel, the three-day operation turned into two weeks, to maybe three weeks, and now we are being told it could take a while. Why? New targets are popping up. What new targets? Stay tuned. In the next episode, will the little boss decide it’s not enough to just take out rocket launchers and centrifuge sites? Will he embark on a misguided adventure to take down the enemy state? (Cue the trademark smirk.)

In the meantime, our airport remains closed. “Rescue” flights bringing Israelis home from abroad turn back as fresh rounds of ballistic missiles are launched at Israel. Others (prisoners of Zion, as one hapless friend, caught here on a visit, calls it) have escaped Israel, taking their chances by crossing borders into potentially hostile neighboring countries.

(Cue the clip of transport minister Miri Regev telling people to continue enjoying their stay abroad.)

In the real reality, people are stranded, paying for hotel rooms on borrowed money. Families are split apart. Buildings around the country are reduced to rubble. (Cue Netanyahu telling us about the personal cost of the war in delaying his son’s wedding, including a pan of the government bunker.) Avner’s was not the only wedding canceled, and disappointed guests who’d arrived early not only found the events put off, they found themselves running for shelter along with the rest of the country.

In real reality, most of the country is awakened every night, learning to guestimate by the sounds of the booms how close or far the missiles land. We listen to the news on our devices, waiting for reports. We have come to understand that nowhere is safe. The Iranians know we know nowhere is safe, and that is why they can cut back on the missiles, but spread them out, like a lit-up blanket. (Cue Anwar Gargash UAE diplomatic advisor: “I think any extended confrontation or war between Israel and Iran will only bring a very difficult aftermath.”)

(Cue the military spokesman ending his nightly talk, giving lip service to the hostages still held in Gaza.) In reality, as the world is looking the other way, the IDF continues to shoot at starving people mobbing the aid delivery sites. The army is still active in Gaza, the West Bank and our northern borders, and the remaining hostages will not likely be released anytime soon. Along with fancy weddings, solutions to Gaza are delayed.

My personal “cost”: The Weizmann Institute was my home-away-from-home for many years, and the building that took a direct hit was a place I knew well. I spent many happy hours sitting in labs there listening to researchers explain the experiments that would help cure cancer, autoimmune disease or just create new tools for understanding how the human body works. They would wax passionate, telling me about their life’s work; or they would sit back with a parental smile letting their PhD students practice explaining their newest discoveries to a non-scientist. With one missile, years of audacious research were wiped out.

Our cancer research labs vs. their nuclear scientists. I won’t even go there. I won’t engage in that sort of righteous “we’re helping rid the world of nuclear weapons” bit that enables the extension of the war. Destruction is more horrible the closer you are to the scene, and for me, this scene is way too close.

As I write, guests are slowly finding their way out, Israelis are trickling back in. As if things might get back to normal.

Nothing. I repeat – nothing – is normal. We will not get used to missiles and drones day and night, to the uncertainty and anxiety they bring. We are living in the worst reality series ever – one created by egomaniacal leaders and religious fanatics. There will be tears, on camera and off. It is a series in which there are bound to be many losers, but not necessarily a winner. In the words of Gargash, there may be a very difficult aftermath.

Will there be a surprise ending? Millions are staying tuned.