So much for that.
Tobey had never exactly been one to look up from his brooding to notice international affairs, but it would have been difficult for him to miss the events of the past six months. The skies had opened, and from them had come the Silent Ones. Slowly at first, and then faster. No one really knew what they looked like, except that when they wanted to talk to someone they tended to look human. They were beautiful, in that way, maybe even angelic, and they spoke in a tongue that could be heard only with the mind.
At least, that’s what Tobey had heard. The Silent Ones had come to teach to an audience unwilling to listen.
Was there a God? Were they Gods? Few out of the teeming billions on planet Earth really wanted to listen. Which was, of course, the problem.
Apparently, humanity, of all the thousands of little species of all the thousands worlds around the thousands of stars in the Galaxy, had been the only race that wasn’t smart enough to take the Silent Ones seriously. They told us that they came because we had discovered the bomb, the Hiroshima bomb, the Nagasaki bomb, the Cold War bomb. The big one. Nuclear power, apparently, was the requisite for joining the rest of the enlightened universe. Nuclear power, somehow, was what powered the engines of the ships that held the complex system of interplanetary travel together. They had come to invite the citizens of planet Earth into a massive alliance of stars. All mankind had to do was give up the bomb, give up the guns, and give up their gods, for they were about to enter an enlightened age.
So, in the name of God, the great nations of the planet Earth had sent rockets, hundreds of them, carrying nuclear warheads into the sky. Mankind had screwed the proverbial pooch once again, and was going to pay for it full. So, when our missiles bounced off of the crystalline, city-sized ships like tennis balls, the board was set and the pieces were in place. It would have been interplanetary war if we had stood a chance.
But no matter what we kept throwing skyward at them, their countdown remained the same. The Earth would be consumed in the sterilizing fires of the Silent Ones. They had reached out a hand, and humanity had spat on it. One month they had given mankind, one month to change the minds of the world. And yet the human race sat, waiting for the inevitable because surely there was a God and surely he would stop them. Because… well, because Moses had parted the Red Sea, and Christ had risen from the dead. They were prophets! What were the Silent Ones? Weren’t they the same?
It didn’t matter. There was one non-negotiable fact in all of this. Tobey was sitting by Lake Madsen, where the water park would be during the summer, carelessly holding a caffeine free diet coke, and waiting patiently for the world to end. Which, of course, would be happening within the next hour, according to the count down. It was all over the news. Tobey felt like he might have been the only one who believed it was happening. In fact, he had had to skip school to come to the lake. School was still in session. People were going about their lives, shopping, eating, drinking, working, hoping to win the lottery, breastfeeding, sleeping, running, worrying, praying.
The world was going to end. Life was about to vanish from the face of planet Earth. And the funny thing was the apocalypse was only the second most traumatic event currently taking place in Tobey’s life.
There had been a girl, a semester earlier, a girl named Mary. She had been a Senior and Tobey had been a Junior, and he really hadn’t had a chance with her, everyone had said so. He wanted her bad, but then everyone had wanted her. However, somewhere in that teenage, hormone driven heart of his, somewhere all of the bitterness and anger had turned into what was at least a parody of love. And that love, or whatever it had been, had hurt more than any of the loneliness.
That wasn’t true. It was the same as loneliness. And it was pretty damn near killing him. It was as if some little part of her- Mary- had been burned onto his brain like those little black lines on good hot dogs. Some part of him was just refusing to cope with the fact that he had made her a part of him, he had incorporated all of her sights and smells and sounds into all that made him happy. To love something is to be dependent on it (the religious are dependent on the god they love, beaten wives are dependent on the husband they love…) and Tobey’s happiness, his sanity (for a short time) had depended on Mary and being with Mary and never losing Mary. Tobey, as one might notice, had gone stark raving in love.
And here, now, Mary was gone. For the ten seconds or ten years that they had spent together, their realities had meshed, two had become one, and were now separate again. And just as love and loneliness were the same, as he loved her more and missed her more, he became lonelier. One night, one of those nights where Tobey had thought about the bottle of pills he could take or the gun he could steal of the little, shiny, crystaline razorblades that he could draw so luxuriously across his wrist, one of those nights, Mary had come to him. She had lain in his arms and every breath they had drawn had synchronized- and it was like the night expanded and retracted with their every heart beat. And then she was gone like a wisp of smoke into whatever reality she had that could exist outside of him. And she had never come to him again, and he would never understand her because she was gone.
On some level, that fact alone made him glad that he, too, would soon be gone. To the same place that everyone else was going. Nowhere. Nowhere ever again.
Then there had been Julia and he would never love Julia like he had somehow loved Mary, but there the two of them had been. Julia sat next to him on the bus when the whole school had taken a field trip to Washington DC. To see the Silent Ones. When they had reached town, crawling beneath the shadow of the enormous shadow of a thirty mile space ship, a piece of technology a thousand times more complex than anything man would dream of for a thousand years, when they had gotten that far there had been a real sense of urgency. Tobey could see it in all of the students around him on the bus. There was an electricity, not from some unseen workings of the Aliens, but a human emotional energy that had somehow tied all of the students together. In that moment, when Tobey had been thinking about Mary, no less, Julia had grasped his hand. There in front of the teachers, in front of everyone, holding hands had become holding each other, which in turn had become fearful, frustrated kisses. Tobey had looked up for a moment, a brief instant, and he had seen the ship blocking out the sun, and he had looked around and seen that so many of the student and teachers were holding each other in similar panicked grasps.
Tobey had blocked much of that out of his mind, the human weakness and pain he had seen. It was too much. It was all far too powerful and frightening that Tobey was, on some level, still a human being, and that he still knew what it was to fear. He hadn’t spoken a word to Julia sense then, because to hear her voice (the one he had heard weeping in his arms) would be to acknowledge whatever sheer dread he had felt. Seeing the shadow of the Silent Ones spread out around everyone had made him break, it had made him scream…
It had made him pray.
He had prayed and prayed and he hated himself for praying. He felt like some prehistoric rat, tail burnt by the first bolt of lightening, screaming at the heavens to make to pain stop. The Silent Ones… they were so much more than man, weren’t they? In their presence, was it really that horrible that Tobey had retreated to primitivism? It had felt that horrible.
Then, after several hours of fear and wonder the bus had turned around and the field trip had ended. All the little students and all their little teachers had returned to all of their little schools to hide in all their little caves waiting for all their little gods to save them. Help was coming, help was coming…
Was Tobey the only one who knew it was over?
He had sat alone in his room, repeating this doom over and over again in his mind. And then he saw a girl- some pretty one, with dark hair in some magazine- and it amounted to what could have been a reminder of Mary and he had found himself outside, looking at the beaten up station wagon he called his car. His mother had called him and he had gone inside and when she had asked what he was doing he had told her that he wasn’t doing anything. Then he had gone to the fridge, getting one of his trade mark caffeine free diet cokes, and when he had pulled his hand out he had knocked over a half empty glass of wine and it had shattered, spilling the wine like blood all over the floor. His mother, in some other universe, had started yelling at him (didn’t he know broken glass was dangerous and this was just like him never thinking of anyone but himself…). He hadn’t listened. All he could perceive, among the shards of glass and splatters of wine-blood, was the little handle, the one that the glass sits on. That handle had still been intact and it had sat there in the pool of wine-blood, looking like some bit of glass-bone and one of its ends had been sharp- razor sharp. He had thought about how easy it would be, sliding that glass so softly into the smooth skin of his wrist. One second of pain and he would never have to feel pain again. His mother’s voice had become simple, inane babble. He had walked out of the house, probably never to see her again.
What with the world ending and everything.
He had driven off to a little coffee house by his school, where the more intelligent of the students were holding some kind of performance night, works of art about the apocalypse and such. He had sat there, sipping a terrible hot chocolate, for hours. He had wanted to leave but he couldn’t. He was too alone to just leave, because he had had no one to say “I’d better get going” or “My mom wants me home by ten” to. But then when he had walked in all of their eyes had raised to him, acknowledging him when he least wished to be acknowledged, so that he could not leave without them wondering why he left. And, somewhere across the smoky room, Julia was looking at him, wondering. He was stuck uncomfortably until the end, waiting ‘til some hour after midnight to walk cautiously back to the Volvo station wagon.
He had decided to drive north, northerly rather, until he would reach Mary. He vaguely knew where her new home was, in the mountains. In light of the impending destruction of the Earth, Mary had decided college could wait. He knew that somehow he was going to find Mary and if he could be with her… if he could share his last night on Earth with her… maybe it would be worth the world ending in the first place.
So, on his way to Mary, the empty highway (everyone was at church) had become all he could see and all he had ever seen. It stretched on forever, seeming permanent under the shadow of the Silent Ones just as humankind seemed so finite.
But somewhere around four in the morning, he had seen a sign for an off ramp. “Lake Madsen Beach and Waterpark- 15 miles.” Every summer when he had been a small child, this is where his mother had turned off, driving that same Volvo station wagon but full of three kids and a lot of inflatable toys. He had been a fat boy, and always a little immune to taking his shirt off in front of other people. He carried that immunity even now, some seven years and negative 50 pounds later. He had never, in all of his life enjoyed a moment at “Lake Madsen Beach and Waterpark.” So, for whatever reason, he decided that he would enjoy a few hours there, the last ones of his life.
He had sat there, on a lawn chair facing away from the beach for nearly seven hours, holding the still half empty can of soda as if it were a prop from some obscene play. He had not spoken a word or moved from his spot. He sat with a conviction, determined to behold the last sky of the last day of his life. He pitied all of the people bowed on their knees in Church, seeing only their dusty sanctuaries. It was a beautiful sky.
It had been all but silent all day long, humanity’s noise had gone, a forgotten specter looming elsewhere. Tobey had grown accustomed to the quiet, when suddenly he heard the soft sound of footsteps on the sand. They were distant, but with the surrounding silence, they were very clear.
“Tobey!”
It was a voice. It was Julia’s voice.
“Tobey!”
He weighed the options, and decided not to respond. He currently valued his solitude. However, of course, he saw her crest the top of the hill, coming towards him. Her hair was mussed, and it didn’t appear that she was wearing any makeup. Her shoes had long been kicked off. All of these things didn’t strike Tobey as unusual, but the long white formal gown she was wearing did. It was disturbing almost, and disquieting. But somehow she looked more beautiful than anyone had ever looked. He felt the beginnings of a smile form beneath the rigid exterior of his face.
“There you are… there you are, Tobey.” Julia stumbled town the hill toward him. Her frequent falls lent themselves to a great deal of noise, but once she was within ten feet of Tobey, all was silent again. She approached slowly, and sat down beside him. Interestingly enough, it was Tobey who broke the silence.
“You’re drunk. I can smell it,” he said, truly unable to smell anything. It was just a hell of a guess.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Why am I drunk?”
“No, why did you come here?” Then there was silence again. The sand beneath their feet seemed to shift a little as a lazy wind danced around the empty water park.
Julia remained still, gazing with him to the top of a distant, white sand hill. Then she said: “My parents were at Church last night. All night.”
Tobey almost snickered. “And you weren’t?”
“No. My friends are… well, Church was the one place they were not. They were all out rolling houses.” She laughed, weakly. “So I went to that stupid performing arts shit at the coffee house.”
“Did you expect me to be there?” Tobey asked.
“I expected you’d be home. Like you always are. Or with Mary. Or reconciling with your parents. The last thing I was expecting was seeing you at an actual, real social event. Next thing I know, you’ll be showing up at football games. That is, if there were going to be any more football games.” Julia smiled, to an extent. “But you asked why I came here. I saw you leave the coffee house…”
“And you followed me?”
“Of course. I had no intention of seeing you, but there you were, and it was unexpected and it was strange… but I wanted to see you.”
Tobey didn’t even begin to form a response. He just glanced at her. The glance became a look, and eventually the look became a stare. It was like he was watching a movie he’d seen a hundred times, one he had never even thought about before, and suddenly he couldn’t pull his eyes away. He tried to speak.
“The dress…”
“You like it?”
“No… I mean, yes. Yes I do. But I’m wondering… why?”
Julia seemed flattered, but at the same time she shot a look to Tobey that seemed to suggest the logic behind her wearing that beautiful formal dress was perfectly self explanatory. “It’s my mother’s wedding dress. And with the whole world coming to an end, I was never going to get to wear one. This dress was always a favorite part of my childhood fantasies… cake, priest, honeymoon night, the whole shebang.”
“You’re pretending it’s your wedding day?” Tobey said, scarcely believing what he was hearing.
“No, this is my wedding day.”
“And who’s the groom?”
Silence.
“Julia?”
Silence.
Tobey had decided to give up on this one when a small, nearly inaudible noise came from Julia’s lips.
“You.”
“What?”
“You. You’re the groom.” She said it with a starkness that nearly horrified Tobey. Julia held her breath.
Tobey spoke with solemn conviction. “I don’t… I can’t understand.”
“It isn’t that difficult, Tobey.”
“I… you love me?”
“No.”
“But you’re attracted to me?”
“No.”
Tobey found himself, to his own surprise, disappointed. Here, in the sun on the sand, there was something truly angelic about Julia… he hated himself for noticing.
“Tobey, you’re the groom because when I was so frightened, you were there and when I was all alone in that miserable coffee house, you were there. We wept in each other’s arms, for Christ’s sake. In sickness and in health, remember?”
Tobey did not respond. He did not respond because he knew that he did not need to respond. All that could be said was already said. So he turned his eyes back to sand and sky as his thoughts lingered over the angel sitting next to him. He knew- and he did not know how he knew- that the same spot on the horizon that his eyes had picked was also being gazed upon by the set of eyes next to him. Eyes that, it seemed, were not so much physical objects, but decorations deftly painted on Julia’s face. After several minutes, it was Tobey who spoke.
“What would it be like?”
“What would what be like?”
Tobey swallowed his pride and looked Julia in the eyes.
“What would our wedding be like?” he asked.
“It would be amazing, Tobey, it really would. It would be…”she glanced over her shoulder to the lake, “it would be perfect.”
It was then that they decided, together, to turn around and face the water and watch the lake for its incredible intrinsic beauty. And this young man and this young woman (who had previously rarely spoken to each other) began planning the most elegant, simple, beautiful wedding that could possibly ever take place. There would be candles, and even a priest (Tobey had reluctantly agreed to this) and of course a huge cake. Then there would be the honeymoon in Hawaii and two kids (so that neither one would be lonely) and all of the growing old together (no nursing homes). They would love and they would care and they would be happy that no other two people in the whole wide infinite universe would ever be happy.
The strangest thing was, of course, that they were so engrossed in their impossible wedding that the tiny detail of the end of humanity had completely slipped their minds. So it was surprising, to say the least, when the wave of fire became visible (at first only as a reflection in the water). The Silent ones had delivered what they had promised to the Earth- and all of the praying in all of the Churches in the world had done no good. The world was ending. The Earth was about to wake from humanity, as a wearied soul from the burden of a dream. The all-cleansing, non-discriminate fires of another world were ravaging all life from man’s. The wave was moving so fast… but the final moments of Tobey’s life seemed to drag on forever. When the fire reached him, he invited it.
Then he heard something that made him realize that if humanity had truly been a dream, then it had been a good dream and it was a shame that the sleeping planet would be forced to awaken. That last sound, the final whimper of the world, was Julia’s voice - calling his name out loud.
First Place Winner: Atlanta Science Fiction Society's
Third Annual Science Fiction Contest for Grades 9-12
by Graham Foster © 2004
Grade 12, Age 18
Centennial High School
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