Supernova-The Conclusion
Finally the time came to pull Ganymede from its orbit around Jupiter and lock it in an artificial gravity well generated a safe distance from earth. The gravitational force of the moon would be nullified by the gravity well we had created, making it safe. Since most of the lead scientists were from America, it was decided the moon would be moved when it was night in the Western Hemisphere, making it a spectacle not to be missed.
It was last night. I imagine every soul stayed out to see the sight. As cynical as I have become, it truly was a spectacle. As the matter-anti-matter engines began their work a blackness deeper than midnight coalesced high in the sky. Suddenly a huge, golden orb filled the sky, dwarfing our own silver moon, hanging low on the horizon. The light reflecting off Ganymede was yellow and it lit up the night. A rush coursed through my body, making me almost giddy, eclipsing my reticence and cynicism. A cheer such as has never been heard before greeted the celestial orb and reverberated throughout the land, echoing in and ominous, ethereal fashion as millions, no billions cheered together.
The rush of last night is gone, replaced by a different irrational rush, a need to run far and fast. Last night heralded the end of the war for humanity, the dawning of a new era, an era without conflict. This morning just heralds the end.
The news came only a few minutes ago. I knew something wasn’t right when the news mods took over every electrical broadcast station. And I was right. I am no scientist, but what I understand from the news is enough. Our sun just couldn’t take it. As the matter-anti-matter engines began to draw power from the awesome celestial fusion reactor, something went terribly wrong. The hydrogen ran out.
I knew the sun fused hydrogen atoms to form helium, though by what exact mechanism I am not sure. What I didn’t know until now was the once the fuel supply of a star runs out, it causes the star to go supernova. The hydrogen supply dried up, and our sun has gone supernova.
Humanity crumbles. Outside of our abode neighbors are running through the streets, some are jumping into their hover cars; many are trying to get away. An older, eccentric neighbor stands naked on the corner of the street, reaching to the sky, embracing some unknown, unseen lover. My animal instinct screams at me to join them, to give myself entirely to the chaos, to embrace the madness and run. My wife has criticized me for being too logical, but now I am glad it is so. I fight to contain those feelings because I know it makes no sense. In moments, a wave of gamma rays will wash over the earth, scouring it clean of the fungal growth of humanity, leaving a solid ball suffused of atoms, but no organic life.
I walk up the stairs. My wife is awake, the broadcast having roused her. A mother in the truest sense of the word, I hear her waking the children and gathering them in our room. As I enter the room, a sincere smile sneaks its way to my lips, the sight of my family will be my last. Our three children sit, fear on their faces as their mother washes their tender faces with kisses and tears. I sit next to her, draw our smallest, only 7 months old, into my arms, and kiss her gently on the forehead. The sounds of the madness in the streets are sliding through the open windows, our children grasping me, asking their Daddy to keep them safe. I know I can’t, but they don’t need to know that. Assurances of love are shared. I look one last time into my dear wife’s aquamarine eyes, grasp her hand and turn to our small ones.
“Daddy, please, what is happening? Why is Mommy crying?” our oldest questions.
I rest my free hand on his shoulder. “Tommy, this morning a very sad thing happened. We just found out that some very bad men made the sun die.”