The end of the world. The apocalypse. Armageddon. Doomsday. Whichever way you say it, it meant that life as we knew it would never again be as it once was. People we loved, places we frequented, the reverence of the internet and its wide array of information and idiots; all turned to dust. The funny thing is, people sure liked to talk about how our world was going to end. We saw movies, read books, made conspiracy posts regarding climate change and nuclear war and cosmic disaster. We speculated, predicted, gleaned any prophecy from an ancient civilization about it. But then, when it happened, nobody seemed to want to talk about it. Like all our obsession over it became pointless after one of the predictions became true. We just didn’t have it in our hearts anymore. Like a promotion you’d been waiting so damn long for finally happened and now you were bored of it.
Of course, we weren’t bored at the end times. We were quite the opposite. Our world decided it was finished when a great big asteroid chose to fly just a little too far to the left and hit our moon. Yes, I know. Of all the things, that’s what happened. I say, if there is a God out there, then he’s a great big cop-out. For somebody who clearly wanted his creations to stop existing he sure chose a boring route.
During the era of the world in which it happened, nobody knew or cared enough about it happening. People spent a lot of time on the internet in the peak of its existence, the majority of the facts having been relayed via web. You’d think that because society’s massive consumption of information we might’ve been a little more prepared, if at all. But no. Either due to the lack of care of the general populace to a wide array of unfortunate misinformation, the news of it became buried in the bullshit. Other people said they vaguely believed the story but didn’t follow it enough to know all the facts. Somebody once swore they saw an article about it on some website concerning cosmic wonder. That the article was your regular run of the mill piece about how an asteroid was going to fly harmlessly past earth like thousands of others before it, and we would be fine. Clearly they were wrong.
Whatever the details, all that didn’t matter anymore. The moon was destroyed, the Earth soon after. Shifting sea levels, extreme weather change, storms like you wouldn’t believe. Not to mention the debris that rained down upon us. The sky was on fire. The Earth followed in its destruction.
I was just a kid when it happened. Just old enough to understand how the world around me worked, how the cogs and gears turned to keep the clock of life ticking for all those god-forsaken souls. The toils of society weren’t completely lost on me. I grew up on the internet, so information came to me fast and easy. I devoured it like a ravenous animal, curious about the intricacies of life and what made people tick. I, too, recall the slivers of hints of what was to come. But at the time I wasn’t interested in it. Probably due to the fact that it seemed like nothing would come of it. As a child I was fascinated by the thought of inescapable doom. But only when it came in the forms of entertainment media. Movies and books. Just like everybody else. Even if I had taken a little more time to research this mysterious rock in the sky, even I would’ve been skeptical about the probability of its course towards us. Even I wouldn’t believe whatever articles and posts about the events due to the general notion that nothing can be trusted on the internet anymore. In a sea of clickbait, misinformation and a vastly known disposition of trolls to prank and fool society just for the lulz; I never would have begun to believe the story.
In any case, it didn’t matter whether people knew or not. Earth was doomed. Even if we figured out the truth, there was no escaping our fates. At least, that’s what I thought until I found the letter.
Despite society as we knew it crumbling around us and comfortability and luxury becoming extinct like much of the plant and animal life, human existence had somehow persevered. We made it through. And in the rubble began rebuilding what we could with what we could find. Life became normal in the new setting and boundaries that we now had. Of course, some aspects had become extreme, mostly crime, but somehow we managed to make the better of things. Money obviously didn’t exist. There was no need for jobs, no bosses nor employees. Only people with skills that could help each other in a peaceful form of trade. I do something that you need if you can provide the same within your skillset. Value among services. We helped each other. We were, after all, all we had now.
20 years ago I was a child in the fight for the future. Now I was but a humble man trekking across a splintered world hoping to learn about our past. I never lost that need for information. Once the internet was gone and I had grown to an age and acquired a living that could hesitantly be called stable, I realized my search for history as a child wasn’t a product of the internet simply existing. I had a passion for history. For knowledge and learning. It’s who I am. So here I was, 20 years later, digging through rubble I deemed possible to satiate my hunger for words and artifacts, anything that could teach me more. Historians and archeologists, I believe people used to call them. But I don’t call myself that. I only learn and preserve for the sake of understanding. I do this for no one but myself. I don’t keep the books or items that I find. I scour them and soak up what I can and leave them be for the next man, should anyone like me come along for the same thing. Take only what you need.
But today I found something that I hesitate to put back. Today I discovered a very small letter that held a very large implication. Today I felt a surge of anger and splintered hope that I have never felt before.
A letter, from a man that died a very long time ago. A confession. Something far more sinister than I would ever imagine.
Thus, it read.
“Life on earth will not continue, and the writing of this letter concerns nobody but me. It is pointless to document my thoughts, for there will be nobody left to read it. But even though my decision is of great will and utmost importance, I’ve but a heavy burden weighing on my conscience that I must relieve myself of. For no other reason but the sake of writing down this jumble of thoughts and solidify exactly why I do what I am doing.
The government is well aware of the asteroid on its course to our moon. People are oblivious to it, mostly for the government’s part of hiding it. They do this for the sole fact of trying to find a way to alter our fates so that life can continue on. They don’t want the world to know what might happen, and are hoping to spare the people the panic just in case they can avoid all the destruction. They have been tracking the asteroid for months, assessing trajectory and what damage might be inflicted, cooking up contingencies and plans to protect our most valued figures should the worse case scenario occur.
The plan was to build a rocket with a bomb that would fly off into the cosmos and land upon the asteroid. A great ball of fire to challenge a great ball of fire. They hope to veer it off its course and have it pass by safely as a mere spectacle in the sky to be admired rather than feared. Their actions are to save the world because they believe we deserve to live.
I do not believe in the same sentiment. Yes, I think humanity needs to be saved. But not in the way one would think. Humanity has become nothing more than a shell of what it once was. A mere echo of who we began as. Crime, corruption, indolence, perversion, apathy– all things that mirror the sins in which have haunted us since the dawn of Adam and Eve. We are mere vessels for the devil now. And we cannot continue on in this way.
God has spoken to me. In the light of the news that this asteroid was hurdling through space directly into us, He revealed unto me his intention to destroy humanity and begin anew. We are a lost cause and he wants to start afresh, but wishes not to destroy his dear planet. That is why he has chosen the moon to be the downfall. The Earth must be preserved so that the seeds of life may be planted in the wreckage of our civilization and grow a far more deserving species to inhabit His world. I am but a mere humble mortal whom has access to the government and its plans, and God saw my importance and chose me to carry out thy will. I must not let the humans stop the asteroid. I must foil their plans and let rebirth commence.
And so I have. I wish not to describe too much the details of my interference, but to make a long story very short: I write codes. Many of them. For various different aspects needed to traverse space with the resources that we have. And this skill that inhabits me, which I now know was bestowed by God himself on the day of my birth for this very intention, that I used to impede upon humanity’s attempt on the last stand. I am not the only in my field to have contributed for the rocket that is meant to destroy the asteroid, but a team requires all persons involved to work together to create a working system. I am fortunate that my skill allowed me to secretly create a program that would prematurely destroy that very same rocket before it reached its target. And at the same time, destroy the systems on ground so that another attempt may not be made to change our fate in the short time we have left. The rocket is set to launch when the asteroid is mere days away to hit, for our ingenuity had not yet allowed us to travel space far enough to have taken care of something such as this within a greater span of distance. And by the time it has happened, by the time they all realize the plan has failed, will it be too late to create another solution as substantial as this. We are to be destroyed by the grace of God and it shall be glorious. I weep at the honor of it all. I am the last human prophet of God, and this is my confession. If only there would be anybody left alive to read this and bask in the reverence of His plan and will, so that I may be immortalized as the savior of humanity. But alas, that would be defeating the purpose of my actions.
SO here I sit, giddy at the prospect of the near end of life. Our future that will never be. A holy event that will never be known to anybody, even the new life that shall succeed us. Glory is He. We are free.”
I haven’t cried since I was a child, hiding away amongst crowds of people fleeing to escape annihilation. I was afraid then. This time, I was angry. I was downright seething. The tears on my face burned with the words of this letter. A lunatic. A maniac. An utter madman did this. Humanity had a chance to survive, and this pathetic creature who clearly did not hold a stable disposition, had somehow been a part of the space program that apparently was trying to save the Earth from all this. And somehow, with that little bit of power he held in the creation of what could have been our salvation, used that very same power to bring ruin upon it. Our only hope.
20 years ago this letter was written. A pointless piece of information on his part for it served no purpose but a way to release the tensions of his actions without telling anybody, but a startling revelation that has now bestowed upon me the greatest burden of humanity: the truth of what happened. I was the only human left on Earth who now knew, and I must live with it. I must carry it with me always, lamenting forever about how all this never would have happened if one man wasn’t crazy and did his job like all those people he worked with trying to save our planet.
Fuck this. Fuck him.
I don’t rid myself of the letter, opposing my previous law to never taking what I didn’t need. This was a special case. I tuck it away, back into the metal box in which I had found it, neatly preserved from the elements, and into my things it goes. Nobody would ever know what happened. Nobody ever should. Ignorance was the only comfortable feeling we had left these days, and it would stay that way. I will carry this burden forever. I will save humanity of this discovery. It was pointless for them to know anyway.
The only good that I take from all this is the small sliver of revenge I feel. Though in no part directly linked to him, I revel in the feeling that his plan was not wholly successful. He may have been part to the cause of the destruction of society, but he plays not part in the total annihilation of humanity. For humanity has persevered. His plan failed. Life goes on without him. And the only seeds that shall be planted in the wreckage of our earth are those of potatoes and apples, and trees and flowers. Things that existed in the past and will exist again. No rebirth of a new species of people. No new start to God’s plan, of which we apparently did not live up to. And it makes me happy to fantasize how his soul will forever be drenched in the blood of all those he damned.
Life goes on. And humanity will continue without ever knowing the truth.