Terminal Event

by Robert Vaughan

  “I bid all of you goodbye, and may Omo have mercy on our souls.”

  There was a moment of black screen, then it was replaced with a view of the heavens. The Plym Stel, but one of the many visible stellar bodies, was highlighted by a small, red circle.

  Zorlok and Vilna had watched this image-cast just as they had watched the missile launch.

  “I know the people have faced their own death since the beginning of time,” Vilna said. “And many have had their lives cut short by disease, war, accidents. My own parents were killed in an air crash when they were but half way through the normal span.

  “So it isn’t just that I’m going to die, that has me so depressed. It’s that the entire world is going to end.”

  “Oh, the world isn’t going to end, my dear. It will still be here after we are gone, it will just be as empty of life as all the other planets in this solar system,” Zorlok said.

  “How will it happen?” Vilna said. “I mean, I know that parts of the Plym Stel will hit us, but how will we die? Will we be crushed?”

  “According to Mitron, most of the larger objects will land in the sea, so it isn’t likely that there will actually be many people crushed, but the incoming rocky debris will create a storm of glowing fireballs in the sky. The radiant energy from those glowing fireballs will heat the entire planet’s surface to a high enough temperature that we will, quite literally, be baked, as if placed in an oven. The temperature will be so high that there will be nothing left to show that we were ever here ...even our bones will be reduced to powder.”

  Despite herself, Vilna smiled ironically.

  “What is it? What’s funny?” Zorlok asked, surprised by her laughter.

  “I was just thinking, darling, don’t ever try and write books for children. I’m afraid they would find your stories quite frightening.”

  23

  As the countdown continued toward what would be the final day, every sentient being was trying to find a way of adjusting.

  In the beginning of what was now known as the final countdown, there was a universal depression as everyone faced not only their own deaths, but the death of all humanity. It was the subject of discussion on the Jodman Byrl Show which, for some time now had been the number one dialogue show on all of the image broadcasts.

  “My first guest is Galcolm Ertgur who has just undertaken a project for Platur Kuoc, who is the First Director of Korsra. Ertgur, what, exactly, is this project?” Byrl asked.

  “It’s one that I am very pleased to do,” Ertgur said. “It is First Director Kuloc’s wish to leave some sign that sentient beings had once occupied this planet, and he has chosen me to create that sign.”

  “And what idea have you come up with?”

  “First, I think we should discuss the medium I will be using. The monument will be built of rock, which I have chosen because of its permanence. Geologists have examined rocks that are nearly four billion years old, stretching all the way back to the planet’s very beginning. Therefore there is no reason to believe that the monument we will be building won’t last another four billion years.”

  “But that raises the question, Ertgur who will be around to see it?”

  “Who is to say, Byrl, that within the next four billion years, we won’t be visited by beings from another planet? And if we are visited by other sentient beings, they will see this monument and know that, at one time, this planet was occupied by intelligent life.”

  “Intelligent life, yes, but, your design, the head of a man, on the body of a lion? Who would ever understand the significance of such a statue?”

  Ertgur smiled. “It is said that humor is the highest form of intelligence. Perhaps leaving such a monument will give whoever finds it pause to ponder.”

  Byrl smiled as well. “Perhaps it will indeed.”

  As Ertgur left the set, another man came to take his place. Byrl rose to shake his hand, then once he was seated, Byrl retook his seat and turned to the camera.

  “Our next guest is the noted behavioral specialist, Amal Kondmar,” Byrl said.

  “Professor Kondmar, the entire world is suffering from what might be called, terminal depression. I guess ‘terminal’ is the operative word there, isn’t it? Sorry, I suppose that is a poor joke.”

  “No, not at all,” Kondmar said. “What we need now, more than at any time in sentient being history, is a sense of humor.”

  “But the depression seems only to increase,” Byrl said. “All life is finite. For whatever time we have had from birth, we have always been aware of our own mortality. And yet it would seem that with the approach of Plym Stel, that everyone has forgotten that.”

  “Well, there is a difference. Never before in the history of sentient beings on this planet have we had to face total extinction of every living creature. Until this terminal event, our species had a degree of immortality by way of leaving progeny to carry on. Now, there will be no one left.”

  “Yes, I can see that, I suppose. But tell me, sir, what is the best way to cope with what is confronting us at this moment in our history?”

  “By doing exactly what you are doing,” Kondmar replied.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You are coming to work every day, you are continuing to broadcast your dialogue show. Those who make this show possible, the camera operators, the directors and editors are also doing what must be done.

  “So too are those who work in the factories, who serve in restaurants, cut hair, work in the stores and shops, those who process, ship, and provide the fuel for our ground and air vessels, those who operate such vehicles, the police, those who fight fire, all are doing what must be done. All contribute to the greater good by maintaining, to the degree possible, a sense of normalcy for the rest of us. And, in so doing they are also preserving their own sanity, and sense of worth.

  “You are right, Byrl, when you say that we were all born with a sense of our own mortality. But what we need to do now is focus on our own condition. We must disconnect our own end, from the end the world.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Byrl looked into the camera to address the viewing audience. “I think that is correct. For the universal sanity of the nation – of the world, actually, we need to maintain as much a sense of a normal life as we possibly can, and that means continue with the professions that define us.

  “When you were young, what occupation did you aspire to? Did you want to be a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher, an engineer? Did you want to be a farmer, an air vessel operator, a policeman, a firefighter? Perhaps you wanted to be a novelist, an actor, an artist, or a journalist. To a great degree, we are our professions and to abandon them now would be to abandon humanity, and to surrender our lives before the great terminal event. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to be right here, in this studio, broadcasting to whoever may be watching on the very last day.

  “And now, speaking to you from our studios in Biskandal, I bid you all a good day, and I will be here for you tomorrow.” Byrl held his hand up, palm facing his viewing audience.

  “Peace,” he said.

  Before the next program began, Zorlok turned off the image screen and contemplated what both Kondmar and Jodn Byrl had said. It really was best to continue with life on as normal a basis as possible.

  He couldn’t help but laugh when he thought of Gnonloma inviting him and Vilna to an end of the world party on the last night. Gnonloma was but a restaurateur but he knew, instinctively, what the learned Professor Kondmar was preaching, even before he ever heard the sermon.

  But there was something else Kondmar had said, something that Vilna had also mentioned, that stuck in Zorlok’s head.

  My own parents were killed in an air crash when they were but half way through the normal span.

  So it isn’t just that I’m going to die. It’s that there will be nobody to carry on after us…

  Then, he thought of Ertgur’s project, leaving a marker for someone to see in the future. What if there c
ould be a future?

  This planet wasn’t going to disappear. Even though the effort of the combined military powers of the world were unable to stop the Plym Stel, the planet would survive. All living things would die, but the physical world would remain. There would still be oxygen, water, life-friendly temperature, hydrocarbon amino acids.

  Zorlok was a biologist, and he knew that if life had emerged on this celestial ball before, it would do so again. The question was what type of life?

  What if there was some way to ensure the survival of the sentient being species?

  Two weeks later Zorlok Cyr sat at his data processor studying the information on the monitor. He had run more than one hundred simulations, and every program had come out the same, varying only in the amount of time before the event horizon.

  He would need help to sell the idea, and he could think of no better ally than his friend, the Director of Scientific Affairs, Atar Mitron.

  “Tell me, Zorlok, what you meant when you said that the Plym Stel need not end our existence as a species?” Mitron asked. “We have run hundreds, perhaps by now, thousands of simulations, and there is no way our species, or any life on the planet will be able to survive. Even if we built thousands of self-contained bunkers, it could be as long as a thousand years before the planet would support life again.” Mitron shook his head. “Our species is finished.”

  “The end of our civilization as we know it, yes, but that doesn’t have to mean that it will be the end of sentient beings, forever.”

  “You have some sort of plan?”

  “Yes, I do. But it will require cooperation from at least one billion.”

  “What is your idea?”

  “Environmental enrichment,” Zorlok said.

  “And what is environmental enrichment?”

  “It was amino-acids and carbon-based elements that caused the emergence of life the first time. Those same amino-acids and carbon-based elements that caused the emergence of life the first time will remain a part of the planet’s atmosphere, even after the collision. Now, suppose the entire planet was sowed with genetic material from sentients and higher animal life? If the environment is rich with genetic material, it will not only speed up the process, it will guarantee that when life does re-emerge, it will be as the direct descendants of sentient beings.”

  Mitron listened, his interest increasing as Zorlok spoke.

  “And you are sure this will work?”

  “I cannot be one hundred percent certain, but every scenario I have run has given the project a greater than ninety-five percent chance for success. Atar, I think we absolutely have to try this.”

  “Yes!” Mitron replied, his head bobbing enthusiastically. “Yes, I agree, we absolutely have to try. What do you need from me?”

  “I am nothing more than a biology professor, I have no power ranking. You, on the other hand, do. You have the ear of the First Director and if you can convince him to back the project, he can sell it. And if this plan is to work, we will need widespread acceptance of the idea. Every scenario I have run indicates that the more the environment is enriched, the greater will be the chances for success. I believe that we are going to need a minimum of at least one billion participants for this to work.”

  “One billion?”

  “At least.”

  “All right, I’ll get behind the project, and I’ll get other scientists behind it as well. And, of course, we’ll need government help, so I will talk with First Director Lemil. But, I want you to do something as well.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want you to write a paper about it. I’ll see to it that the paper is picked up by all the scientific journals and perhaps other media as well.”

  Mitron stood, extended his hand, and flashed a huge smile. “Whether this works or not, I believe it will give everyone hope. And, in these dark, dark days, any glimmer of hope is welcome.”

  Zorlok wrote the paper as Mitron suggested.

  The only chance we have for this project to succeed is if as many as one billion people report to collection stations to leave some of their own biological material. Doing so will mean that any future life that may be spawned on this planet, will have a direct biological linkage to the donor.

  It may take hundreds of thousands, or millions, or even billions of years, but the life that emerges from the stew that we cook, will be our own grandchildren.

  As Zorlok told Mitron, he was merely a college biology professor with no governmental connections, nor power ratings. But his paper was posted, not only in all the scientific and media outlets, it also appeared on the planetary internet connection, and as a result was seen by billions of people. Many of those who did have government connections, not only in Amalon, but in every nation, as well those with very high power ratings, read Zorlok Cyr’s proposal and, enthusiastically took up his cause.

  24

  In all three of the world’s continents collection stations were established to receive and process individual biological material for disbursal. The environmental project had an immediate effect on the overall mental state of the world’s population.

  “No one lives forever, everyone dies eventually,” people would say. “So we may as well die together, especially now that there will be something left of us.”

  “I hope that, when life resumes, they will still be playing barrage ball,” a professional player for the Collandria Warriors said. “I know that my off-spring will be an even better corner attack man than I was.”

  “Well he won’t have to be all that good to be better than you, Elron,” one of his teammates teased. “Did you not have two giveaways and three missed bombards in the last game?”

  “And did I not also score two bombards?” Elron challenged.

  “Will they have music?” another asked.

  “Of course they will have music, for what is life, without music?”

  In Korsra, when it was learned that it was the folly of Flag Officer Klye Mnobonti that kept the intercept of the Plym Stellar-body from succeeding, the disgraced flag commander was tried. Found guilty, Mnobonti was sentenced to death, but an article in one of the communication sheets challenged that.

  A proposal

  By now, the entire world is aware that Flag Officer Klye Mnobonti, for what had to be motives of greed, jealousy, and self-importance, pulled the Kambye missiles away from the connection grid with the launch headquarters in Biskandal.

  In so doing the carefully planned operation that would have saved us all was doomed to failure. Mnobonti not only condemned us, he also brought shame upon the Kambye nation. The last conscious thought of every living creature will be defamation of Kambye, a condemnation that will last for an eternity, for we shall never have the opportunity to erase that stain, and allow our nation to stand on par with the other two nations of the world.

  I call upon First Director Docomonoma to grant a stay of execution to Mnobonti. You may ask why I would make such a request, but the reason is quite simple. Why should we allow this miscreant to die early so that he will not have to face the mass death that we all must?

  However it should also be arranged that there be no genetic material preserved from Mnobonti. Should the environmental enrichment program succeed, and all scientists agree now that it has every chance to do so; we should spare any future civilization the affliction of having any trace of such a despicable creature among them.

  As a result of the article, Docomonoma repealed Mnobonti’s death sentence, instead giving him a sentence of life in prison.

  One of the communication sheets printed a headline that resonated with all.

  Mnobonti’s death sentence commuted to 187 days in prison

  All over the world, water courses and good soil were chosen for the enrichment process. It became an international celebration of sorts as tours were organized to take donors to exotic places, including remote and beautiful islands where there would be feasting, music, and dancing, then all would gather to watch the biological materi
al being sowed.

  For some the “planting of their seed” as the process was being called, took on a very personal aspect. Family reunions were held on the old homesteads of the grandparents and, in many cases, in the cemeteries where their ancestors were buried. The biological material would be planted, sometimes by the oldest members of the family, and sometimes by the youngest.

  Old athletes gathered to plant their seed on the stadiums where they had played their games, and many old soldiers returned to battlefields where they, and the men who had once been their mortal enemies, left their seed where so many of their friends had died.

  The Stellar Production Company which produced motion picture dramas, created a three-hour-long drama called Here Again.

  A plot summary ran in all the newspapers.

  With an outstanding cast of image actors and actresses, Here Again is an imaginative plot that takes place millions of years in the future. Filled with humor and music, it is the story of an image broadcasting company in New City, a huge city filled with towering buildings, and with streets crowded with ground transporters.

  The lead character, Nee Colba is the beautiful young producer of a news program and Moog Cryx is the handsome newscaster. They are in love, but the course of love doesn’t run smoothly, and it becomes especially difficult when a data processor puts out the notice that the program is cancelled, and both Nee and Moog find themselves unemployed.

  Fortunately, it turns out to be a mistake; as the data processor has fired everybody in the company, including the president. It all turns out well in the end as Nee and Moog make a commitment to each other, and the news program wins an award.

  One of the things that made the image drama so successful was that it was very obviously set in the future, a future populated by people who, as the result of environmental enrichment, looked exactly like sentient beings. However, there was absolutely no mention, nor even the remotest reference in the drama, that all who were portrayed in the drama, were the result of the environmental enrichment program.