One Weird Day

Weather Forecast - Part 6

--- 2050, June ---

By morning none of the personnel remained in the hotel. It seemed the tradition by which the ship's orchestra keeps playing even as the ship goes down, was relevant to ships only. People ran away and who could blame them.

Judging by what I see from the window, there is still some disorder on the streets, but in comparison to the mayhem that went on throughout the night it's getting better. During most of the night crowds stampeded the shops, trying to stock up with goods, drugs and weapons, while others stormed the airports, hoping to depart for somewhere.

There's no place to go. At some point, planes ceased to take off. Phones don't work. Television and radio broadcast government announcements urging citizens to take shelter and not to surrender to panic, but very few bother to stop their stealing in order to listen.

By now, the waves of those wishing to run away have died down, and through the side window of my room, I can see empty streets packed with deserted cars. People ride bicycles or go on foot now. Only those who have succumbed to their fate remain in the city.

I can see two guys pulling a huge television screen out of a shop and loading it into a shopping cart. A young woman appears out of the trashed window of an expensive boutique, balancing on high heels and holding a few paper bags full of clothing. In the cafeteria at the corner of the street, all the windows are smashed and all the tables and chairs turned upside down, but at the only table standing straight a young couple is sitting. They talk, laugh and with one spoon feed each other a pie that by some miracle has survived the night.

The question "what would you do if you had one day left?" is suddenly relevant on a universal scale.

Many chose to stay at home, spend time with their children, look at photo albums and tell each other things that should have been said long ago. Movie theaters show old movies in succession, half filled with audiences. Out of the big panoramic window of my room I can see the ocean and people on the beach, lying on the sand, playing, talking. It looks like just another ordinary day.

Perhaps telling them my last prediction was the right thing to do.

However, many disagreed. During the night, a crowd stormed the Meridian Hotel where I am thought to be staying. But, after each broadcast, my look-alike went there, while I was secretly taken to another hotel—less swanky, but good for privacy and with an excellent view of the ocean.

Eric is with his family now, on another continent. I miss him, actually. I know that he tried to call, but the phones didn't work. He wanted to ask one question: "Selia, it's not true, is it?"

And what if I had got it wrong?

Impossible. I never make mistakes.

"Selia, excuse me... but it's not true, right? It simply can't be."

I turn with a half-forgotten feeling of surprise—after all, I usually know in advance everything that is going to happen.

It's just an elderly businessman who is staying in the room next to mine. I've been hearing his continuous muttering behind the wall since morning—talking to himself, praying. It seems he has decided to pay me a visit now. I haven't locked the door—what for?

"You know the truth." I turn back to the window, and my feet register the first slight shake of the floor.

"But how can it happen so suddenly? There are most exact devices, surely scientists had to have known, there must have been some time to prepare..."

Some knew, that's for sure. Cataclysms of such scale don't occur without a warning. Some guessed, some knew for certain. There were folders with "Confidential" stamped on them in which the forthcoming disaster was predicted quite accurately. But those responsible for making decisions chose to keep it a secret—for the same reasons that kept me silent until last night. Why spread panic if nothing can be changed?

But they couldn't predict the consequence the way I could. Bunkers with necessary supplies were prepared, evacuation plans were shared with the chosen ones, those who were meant to survive the worst and rebuild civilization from ashes. In fact, I was supposed to be among them, having received a secret government offer—but refused, knowing their plans were doomed.

One more shake, almost imperceptible. My interlocutor doesn't even seem to notice them. The first earthquakes begin far out in the ocean. Then tsunamis will hit the coasts of several continents, one after another, with more and more destructive force. Simultaneously, a series of earthquakes along the coastline of North America will trigger an eruption of the huge Yellowstone volcano, which has been dormant for more than half a million years. Apart from destroying everything on one considerable part of the continent, the eruption will be accompanied by the emission of enormous quantities of volcanic ash. The amount of solar energy will reduce dramatically, and within several years, this will lead to the extinction of many species of flora and fauna on the planet.

The end of mankind will not be immediate. People will hold on for a few more decades, but they will never succeed in rebuilding a global civilization, and for the various disconnected groups of people, it will be increasingly difficult to cope with living conditions so different from the hospitable climate and clear atmosphere that will cease to exist in just a few hours.

"Why didn't they know, then?" my neighbor goes on. "After all, scientists... research..."

A strong jolt shakes the building, throwing both of us to the floor. Through the window, I hear the remote shouts and cries of the people on the beach. My neighbor starts muttering to himself again, not even trying to get up. I make it to my feet, balancing on the vibrating floor and get to the window. People are running away from the water. Primal instincts are stronger than the understanding that there's no place to run; fear drives them to seek shelter.

I watch, captivated, as a huge wave rises slowly on the horizon.

Very soon.

I will know nothing again.

T H E   E N D