When I started writing my editorial for the April issue last week, a mere handful of public libraries had closed to contain the spread of COVID-19, though many had canceled public programming. Less than a week later, nearly 500 have closed to the public. But there are more than 9,000 public library systems in the United States—and we should close all of them. Today, not in two weeks when the April issue lands on your desk.

Hundreds of U.S. colleges—and counting—have shut down in-person classes and gone remote. But not all of those have closed their academic libraries. Too many are keeping the library open to serve those who must stay on campus because they can’t go home—or because their home does not provide digital access.

It’s a worthy goal, as is serving the parents whose kids are out of school and at loose ends, and patrons who don’t have homes to go to. Libraries have a proud history of stepping in to fill the gaps in the social safety net, and the impulse to do so in this instance is strong.

Many library workers, from directors to frontline staff, are rightly questioning whether it is reasonable to endanger the lives of staff to do so. But the tough calculus of staff needs versus patron needs doesn’t apply this time, because, as Brooklyn librarian Katya Schapiro said, "The same populations that are hurt by us closing are at greatest risk from us remaining open."

The library is no less infectious than the classroom—perhaps even more so, given all the shared resources our users touch after one another. And libraries serve a lot of seniors, who are at particularly high risk. Libraries change lives—but right now they can save them.

Library leaders don’t make these calls in a vacuum. They need to convince their boards of trustees, their mayors, their deans and university presidents. Sometimes that process is slow and hard. It can help to use the advocacy techniques honed for the funding fight, including public pressure.

In the meantime, they can cancel programs, pull seats to enforce distancing, step up cleaning protocols—and be transparent about those processes. They can be flexible with employees and policies—let people work from home, and be liberal with paid leave for those who can’t, especially those at higher risk or living with those who are. Once the library is closed to the public, think twice before remaining open to staff. Best practice for containment is to close completely.

Of course, just because the library is closed doesn’t mean we stop working. Start by instituting automatic renewals, extending loan periods, and waiving fines for materials that are already out. Educate the public through your website and emails on methods of coronavirus transmission and why social distancing matters even for the healthy and those at lower risk. Provide information on loans, grants, and other help that many localities are starting to provide for impacted small businesses and workers. Promote electronic services—including chat reference—that can be accessed offsite; a number of vendors are offering free or increased access to meet demand. Some libraries already offer distance programs such as bedtime stories by telephone or streaming story time; this is an opportunity to experiment with or expand such offerings, though be mindful of copyright concerns. In higher ed, the shift to online instruction is catching many professors flatfooted—if instructional librarians and tech teams can support that work remotely, while subject specialists curate links to video content from collections, the library will earn faculty gratitude.

Librarians can, and should, get creative and innovative about providing service at a distance. But we need to make our peace with the fact that for this present, urgent moment libraries won’t be able to reach everyone. Right now, flattening the curve to prevent the healthcare system from overloading is the biggest contribution we can make to the public good.