The Quiet at the End of the World

by Lauren James

  After I hang up, I miss him even more than I did before the call, so I fetch the pillow from the room Shen sleeps in when he stops over. (It’s called the blue room, but it hasn’t actually been painted blue since 1878.) The pillow still smells of him, so after tucking it under the covers beside me, I wrap my arm and leg over it. I would never admit this to anyone, because I know it’s weird, but sometimes doing this is the only sure-fire way I have of getting to sleep. It’s just reassuring, having something of his around, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

  CHAPTER 13

  The next day, Shen and I arrange to walk to the community gathering together. We’re meeting our parents there. I have no idea what to expect from today’s meeting, which has been rescheduled after Alexei’s accident. Our parents have been so cagey about everything that I’m not sure what anyone else knows about what’s happening. Have they told everyone apart from us that Alexei had some kind of fit before the helicopter crashed? They could be keeping that secret from everyone else too.

  After showering, I have some time before Shen wakes up, so I sit cross-legged in front of my mirror, French plaiting my hair while it’s wet. The plait reveals more of the grey patch above my temple, and I poke at it, wondering if it’s getting bigger. I can’t be sure. I quite like it, though. It looks dignified.

  Mitch sits next to me, watching my reflection intently. He extends a finger and pushes a stray curl back into the loop of the braid.

  “You’re a lot cleverer than everyone thinks, aren’t you?” I ask, watching him carefully.

  A blue light flashes on the top of his head.

  I’ve never been friends with a robot before. I didn’t know how human they could be, and how easy it might be to forget that they aren’t human. It feels like Mitch has been around for ever. There must be dozens of other bots who are all alone like Mitch, quietly living by themselves in abandoned cities, getting on with their old jobs. I wonder if they miss human company. I wonder if being left running for so long has changed their original software, mutated it into a strange and unknown personality – oddball and silly, but even more interesting for it.

  Mitch can’t have been like this when he was first released on to the foreshore as a patrolling lifeguard. He made himself like this, over the years and years of isolation.

  “You’re part of the family now, you know,” I say, tying off the end of the plait. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

  Mitch leans sideways and nudges me with his shoulder.

  I take it as a thank you.

  I apply red rouge to my lips (made by Mrs Singh by mixing beeswax from her hives with beetroot colouring), then put on a blue-and-white pin-striped shirt, which I stole from Dad, and a skirt in the same red as the lipstick.

  Shen eyes me with an odd look when we meet. “You’ve done your hair like that girl from the TV show.”

  I touch the twisted strands, surprised. I hadn’t realised that I was copying her. I’m wearing the same colour lipstick too. “So I have.”

  Whistling to himself, Shen squeezes my shoulder as we start walking. His thumb rubs against the side of my neck absently.

  I shiver and stare at him, breathing open-mouthed. We touch each other like this all the time, but for some reason, today it hits me in the gut. Something changed in the secret passageway, and I can’t seem to shake it off.

  When he moves his hand, I rub my neck, tracing the place where he touched me, as I follow him and Mitch down the pavement.

  We’re nearly at City Hall when I catch sight of a car stopped in the road ahead of us. I tilt my head, squinting at it. Why is a car parked in the middle of the street? There’s no one else around, except for us. The whole area is completely deserted.

  We walk closer, and I realise with a jolt that there’s a figure in the driver’s seat. As we get even closer, I see that it’s Mrs Bolton. She isn’t moving.

  “Shen.” I grab his arm, coldness sinking through me. “What…?” I trail off as I tap on the window. It makes a loud noise, but Mrs Bolton doesn’t react. She looks … she almost looks like she’s dead. My stomach twists over. “Are you OK? Mrs Bolton!” I bang harder on the glass.

  Mrs Bolton’s body jerks, shaking and seizing, like Alexei’s did in the video. I fall back in shock.

  Next to me, Mitch gives a long, mournful dark blue flash.

  “Mrs Bolton!” Shen cries. He pulls desperately at the door handle. “It’s locked!”

  Mrs Bolton continues to shake on the other side of the glass.

  “We need to get to her!” he says. He’s sweating, panicked.

  I nod. “You call your mama. Get help. I’ll get us inside.”

  I don’t want to hurt her by breaking the window and spraying her with broken glass. Luckily, I’ve had practice of breaking into cars before, when we’ve found intact ones in old garages that we wanted to restore.

  I take a screwdriver out of my utility belt and jam it between the door and the body of the car, levering the door open enough to create a gap. Now I need something long and thin to push inside to press the “unlock” button. “Your metal detector,” I say, holding out my hand to Shen.

  He passes it to me, still talking to Jia. He stands stiff, speaking carefully. His expression is emotionless. I know that if I’d had to make that call, I would have ended up crying, but Shen doesn’t even blink.

  I turn the metal detector and push the end of the long handle through the gap. Mrs Bolton’s body is still spasming. I try to ignore it as best I can and focus on what I’m doing. I press my forehead against the glass, staring down inside the car at the door as I direct the detector to the button. I push it down, and the door clicks open.

  I kneel beside Mrs Bolton, holding her while she shakes. I don’t want to move her until the emergency bots get here to take her to the hospital. Mitch crouches next to me, and I lean against him, shuddering, as Shen talks to Jia.

  I managed to push away my panic while I was getting the car door open, but now I feel sick. First Alexei, then Mrs Maxwell, now Mrs Bolton. What is happening? Why are so many people getting sick?

  “Thanks, Mama,” Shen says. His voice is overly loud. He always talks too loudly on the phone, so you can hear him from a room away. I don’t think he can judge the volume of his own speech on the phone because of his hearing. After he ends the call, Shen rests his hand on my back. “She’s on her way. She’s coming with the emergency bots. It’s going to be OK.”

  He can’t know that for sure. I lean back against him, trying not to think about how Mrs Bolton has gone still in my arms.

  The four of us don’t move until Jia arrives. She hugs Shen and me tightly then helps lift Mrs Bolton on to a stretcher and hurry her to the hospital. I stand and watch them leave, unable to look away.

  CHAPTER 14

  Soon after Jia leaves, Mum arrives to take us home. The meeting has been cancelled again, this time until we find out if Mrs Bolton is all right. Shen and I are ushered into the reading room, wrapped in blankets, and given mugs of tea. Mum and Dad come and sit with us.

  “Lowrie, Shen,” Mum says, “we’ve tried to protect you. I’m not sure if that was the right decision” – she glances at Dad – “but, well … there’s something going around. An illness. We don’t know what it is, but it seems to be – severe.” She draws a deep breath. “Until it’s sorted, we’re putting everyone in quarantine.”

  Shen makes a muffled noise.

  I drop my mug, tea splashing on to the carpet. I pick the mug up and put it down on the table and then focus on a gilt-framed oil painting on the wall, breathing carefully. I trace the brushstrokes with my eyes until I stop shaking. “Is it … is it life-threatening?”

  “No!” Mum hurries to say. “No.” She pauses. “We don’t know. We hope not. But you two will be fine. We promise. This isn’t about that. We’re more worried that something will happen to us and you’ll be alone, and —”

  “This is really bad,” Shen says. He leans forward to run his hands th
rough his hair, sighing. The strands, usually slicked back neatly, slip down over his forehead. “This is so bad.”

  “We need to go over the emergency protocols again,” Dad says. “As soon as possible.”

  “What?” Shen asks.

  Ever since we were little, our parents have made us practice what we would do if something happened to them. It’s routine things, like where to find the electricity generators and the water-distillation filters – everything we need to know to keep safe and healthy and well-fed in the aftermath of a crisis if Shen and I are left all on our own.

  I’ve spent years rolling my eyes at the unnecessary health-and-safety routines. I used to complain that it was going to be decades before we were left on our own. But this doesn’t feel like a practice. It feels real. They really think we’re going to be alone. And soon.

  “Is it that bad?” I ask, hoarsely.

  “I’m just concerned that we haven’t prepared you enough.” Mum takes Dad’s hand, looking at their interlinked fingers.

  I sit back in my seat like I’ve been punched, all the air knocked from my lungs.

  “I’m not ready,” Shen says, and starts to sob.

  MyWaves05

  Today I downloaded a dating app for the

  first time! It took me a full six minutes to

  work out how to upload a picture – so I’m off to a good start.

  Posted on 15 May 2026

  Rizzz on 15 May 2026

  Replying to @MyWaves05

  Oh dear, good luck. My last experience with dating apps turned my hair white and transformed my vague dislike of the human race into a raging tower of fury. I’ve resigned myself to a long and productive bachelorhood.

  MyWaves05 on 15 May 2026

  Replying to @Rizzz

  Good LORD. This might have persuaded me to delete it immediately. Though a guy did tell me he’d bring his dog on a date so: not entirely a lost cause?

  MyWaves05

  The app wants me to put in my sexuality. Why isn’t there an option for “all girls and boys when they are fictional, unrealistically perfect or impossibly unattainable”?

  Posted on 16 May 2026

  MyWaves05

  Anyone else see Pride and Joy yet? I haven’t cried so much at a film in years. The CGI for the baby was so good, it almost looked real. Definitely go and see it if you get the chance.

  Posted on 10 Jul 2026

  MyWaves05

  My date: systematically disparaging every single one of my favourite things.

  Me, listening furiously: yeah, totally, sure,

  I see your point there, thanks, I hate this.

  Anyway I left her there and got cheesecake, no regrets.

  Posted on 18 Aug 2026

  Rizzz on 18 Aug 2026

  Replying to @MyWaves05

  I hope the poor woman isn’t still there?

  MyWaves05 on 18 Aug 2026

  Replying to @Rizzz

  She’s probably busy negging the waiter about the inadequacy of the wine, if I had to guess.

  MyWaves05

  Congratulations!

  RT @Rizzz I’ve been on hormones for 4 years this week. Best decision of my life. Now back to your regularly scheduled nonsense posts.

  Posted on 4 Oct 2026

  Rizzz on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @MyWaves05 Thank you so much for the rainbow cupcakes! They just arrived and everyone in my office let out a simultaneous gasp of amazement. They’re stunning.

  MyWaves05 on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @Rizzz I hope you shared them, then.

  Rizzz on 4 Oct 2026 Replying to @MyWaves05 Don’t be crazy. I made them watch as I ate all dozen, one by one.

  MyWaves05 on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @Rizzz How villainous.

  Rizzz on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @MyWaves05

  Well, I heard you liked bad boys.

  MyWaves05 on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @Rizzz

  Not really, actually.

  Rizzz on 4 Oct 2026

  Replying to @MyWaves05

  Oh, thank God. I am definitely not one.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next few hours are spent with Dad quizzing us on the emergency protocols. He makes sure that we know how to maintain the solar panels, where the backup power generators and canned food are stored, how to control the boiler and water supply, and how to care for the crops and animals on the estate.

  Dad isn’t satisfied until we’ve proved we can run the estate all on our own. He even checks that we know what to do when winter comes, which isn’t for months and months.

  “Dad – we’re not going to need to know all this stuff, are we?” I whisper, barely able to say the words out loud. “You don’t really think…?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I’d never forgive myself if you two weren’t ready, just in case.”

  Shen fiddles with his cufflink, frowning. It’s his silver “Roswell Area 51” set, which I made for him for Christmas last year. I spent weeks hammering pieces of silver flat and soldering a design into the metal.

  I meet Shen’s eye, and his expression softens slightly.

  “We really are just being cautious,” Dad adds. “You don’t need to worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Somehow, the more they try to reassure us, the worse I feel.

  Finally, we’re sent to bed. Shen is staying in the blue room tonight.

  “I wish we’d been able to ask about Alexei,” I say on the stairs, peering over the bannister to make sure that Dad isn’t listening.

  “There’s no way we could have known about him having the same symptoms as Mrs Bolton and Mrs Maxwell unless we’d seen the footage from the black box. We couldn’t bring it up.”

  “It has to be the same illness, though, right? It must be going around really fast – if we’re in quarantine already.”

  This whole thing is making me think of Maya in the aftermath of the sterility virus. She must have gone through this same fear and panic. As soon as I’ve said good night to Shen and climbed into bed, I pull up Maya’s account, and reread her posts about the day of the virus, seeing the same fear there that I’m feeling right now. I go to Riz’s profile and read his too.

  Rizzz

  I used to have nosebleeds all the time when I was a kid, but I haven’t had one for years. Then suddenly today my nose started bleeding and it won’t stop. Give it to me straight, guys. Am I dying?

  Posted on 21 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  What’s going on? Is this nosebleed thing happening everywhere, or just in the UK? Not to make any sweeping assumptions, but is this the actual end of the world?

  Posted on 21 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  This is the end of the world. Shit.

  Posted on 21 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  My mum just called me to say goodbye.

  Posted on 21 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anyone here with me. What do I do?

  Posted on 21 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  Feeling a bit embarrassed by all my wild “farewell, world” posts last week. Going back to work after all that felt like a slight anticlimax.

  Posted on 28 Feb 2024

  Rizzz

  As much as it might damage my flawless reputation, I have to admit that I’m feeling kind of lonely these days. Going through this whole thing makes me realise the degree to which my life is just worksleepworksleeprepeat. It’s fine, but not exactly the way I want to spend the apocalypse.

  Posted on 1 Mar 2024

  Rizzz

  I never really assumed I’d have kids (I’m a perpetual bachelor, for a start), but it’s a whole different thing to know that I can’t have kids. I’m not going to cheerfully resign myself to a future without something so essential to being alive.

  Posted on 25 Sep 2024

  Once I’ve read all of the posts about the virus, I go back to Maya’s account,
reading as quickly as possible in an attempt to distract myself – or at least pretend that this isn’t happening to me.

  I skim over years and years of Maya’s life: posts about her daily routine and politics and uni work and relationships and family, until I can’t keep my eyes open. I put on the audio description and listen to the mechanical voice read the posts while I bury myself under the duvet.

  I can’t remember feeling this overwhelmed since I was younger, when I helped Mr Kowalski to deliver Elizabeth’s foal. It was exciting at the time, but perhaps a little traumatising for a nine-year-old.

  At midnight, Mum pokes her head around my door to check if I’m sleeping. She’s closing the door again when I sit up. “Hi.”

  “Are you doing OK, champ?”

  “Not really,” I mumble.

  She comes and sits by me.

  I roll over and press my head into her thigh. A dog hair pokes me in the cheek. Mitch, who is sprawled out in front of the fireplace, rolls over lazily to look at us.

  “Mum, I’m scared.”

  “I know. So am I.”

  “What if we all die? What if this is the end?”

  She rests a hand on top of my head, like I’m Victoria. “I don’t think it is.”

  “What difference does it even make, if we all die now instead of in a few decades?” I frown, my expression unseen against her side. “What are we all doing here, anyway? What are we achieving?”

  Mum smooths out a section of my hair, before twisting it around her finger. “There’s no finish line you need to cross to have lived a worthy life, Lowrie. You don’t need to achieve anything, if you don’t want to.”