25 Hour Watch

“Look at this, will you, just look at this!” John barked as he slapped the morning newspaper with his hand. “I’m telling you, Mary, this world is going to hell in a hand basket.”

His wife regarding him from across her breakfast, her coffee half way to her lips. “Is it about Chris getting disqualified from American Idol,” she asked. “I know if seems so unfair but hey, rules are rule.”

“What… no! Look at this,” he explained as he shook the paper in his hand, precluding any chance she could make out what article he was looking at, “a man killed his wife and three children yesterday, shot them down in their own home. This was only a couple of towns over, too. And here, Los Angeles is reporting epidemic levels in gang violence, the highest in twenty-five years. And here, in Illinois a gang related shooting at East Ridge High School leaves a janitor and student dead, drug involvement suspected. Thankfully the school was closed at the time and no one else was hurt. And here, a mall shooting in Montgomery, Alabama leaves a dozen dead, suspect in custody!” He slammed the newspaper on the table with such energy that his orange juice splashed into his scrambled eggs.

“John, settle down!” his wife cried. “You know what Dr. Anderson sad about getting worked up, your blood pressure is high enough as it is.” Her husband held his head in his hands and sighed.

“How can’t anybody get worked up over this, Mary. I mean look at the state of the world. Genocide in Africa, war in the Middle East, terrorism all around. After millions of years of evolution, it seems like the only worthwhile pass time humans can think up of is the most effecient way to kill each other off.”

“Dear, don’t you think you’re overstating the situation just a little bit? Sure these things happen but most of it is just… sensational reporting from the papers, from the media. All this is the exception, not the rule.”

“No, if anything I think I am understating the situation. True the newspapers hang on these types of stories but it does not negate the fact that it happens all too often. Trust me, when mankind finally goes extinct, it won’t be because of some great earthquake or giant meteor, it will be by our own hand. One way or another, we will end up killing ourselves off.”

A silence hung in the air as John stared at his breakfast plate, the eggs, bacon and English muffin soaking in a thin lake of juice.

“Do you want me to make you another plate?” Mary asked. John shook his head.

“No. I’ve lost my appetite. Besides, I have to be heading off to work now anyway.”

He stood and walked towards the door, his wife following. She handed him his briefcase.

“Have a good day at work, dear,” she soothed, rubbing his arm. “And stay away from the papers, I don’t want any more ruined breakfasts.” He smiled.

“I promise.”

With that, they kissed for what would be the last time.

***

Half way across the world, it was a cool, clear and moonless night at the Anglo-Australian Observatory, the type of night which made Richard so glad he was an astronomer. A carpet of stars stretched far overhead, unblemished by the lights of the cities or the smear of pollution.

On these rare nights, a perfect combination of pristine skies and absolute privacy, he had the opportunity to indulge in his own fancies and was doing that this very moment. His only required task for the night was an infrared scanning of Palomar 12 which he had completed only a few minutes ago. Now Richard was retasking the twelve and a half foot diameter telescope on a personal errand.

The massive telescope slowly pivoted into position, then stopped. From his computer console, the astronomer opened the shutter and within moments, majestic Saturn appeared on his monitor, its massive rings tiled at a perfect angle as if the gas giant were posing just for him. Richard sighed with contentment as if the sight were massaging him with warm oils. Of all the heavenly sights he had been made privy too, this was, to him, the most spectacular of them all, ever since childhood.

After a moment, however, Richard noticed a problem with the image. While the image of the planet was crystal clear, the background color was off. Instead of the normal black of empty space, the background was tinted a florescent purple. He ran a diagnostic which came back normal.

Confused, he stared at the image of Saturn, considering the what the issue may be. The telescope had been in perfect working order only an hour ago, where was this purple haze coming from?

Suddenly, the real-time image of the planet vanished. One moment it was there, the next moment there was a flash and then it was gone. Now the screen was filled with only that bright purple glow.

His analytical mind now thrown into complete disarray, Richard ran a number of tests. After a few minutes, it became clear that there was nothing wrong with the telescope or its systems. He sat back in his chair and considered. What if he tried running a spectrogram test on the purple light itself? Was it some sort of background radiation or interference from space? It was only a slim chance that it was but he decided to run one anyway.

His computer hummed and clicked as it processed this new information and within several minutes, the results blinked onto the monitor. Richard read the numbers… and his eyes bulged in horror.

The background purple light was not a computer glitch. It was actually out there, in space, a massive wall of pure energy which he had just seen vaporize the entire planet of Saturn and it was advancing at incredible speed. According to the rough calculations he had formed in his head, it had already taken out Jupiter as well.

And within the next ten minutes or so, Earth would be next.

***

By the time John saw the Camero speeding through the intersection, there was little he could do but brace himself.

There was a high pitched squeal of tires and then the unforgiving sound of metal collapsing into metal. The impact wasn’t terrific but enough to jostle his body violently from one side, then the other. The Camero had caught the rear side of his Crown Victorian, buckling the panel. The front of the sports car was crumbled, the engine compartment spewing steam and hissing in protest.

It only took a moment or two for the initial shock to wear off and then John exited his car to check on the condition of the other driver. Mr. Camero, however, had already left his car and was inspecting the damage to his vehicle, his face red with anger. He wore a dirty wife-beater, torn jeans. A Lynyrd Skynyrd song was blasting from his radio at full volume, his immaculately maintained mullet rippling gracefully in the light breeze.

“You screwed up my baby, man!” Camero Man bellowed as John approached, rubbing his neck.

Well that’s what happens when you run red lights, jackass John thought to himself. “Are you okay?” he asked instead, deciding to keep the conversation as civil as possible.

“You listening to me, man! I said you fucked up my car! My daddy gave me this here car!” The red-neck was screaming now, his eyes flashing with wild rage.

Fear pulsed through John’s body, this guy was a hair’s breath away from becoming out of control. He knew he had to diffuse the situation somehow but at the moment, his brain refused to provide any solution. Should he offer an apology? Should he assure this man that everything would be covered? Should he stand up to him or simply run away?

“Maybe we should just exchange insurance information, huh?” John suggested, his voice low, submissive, almost hopeful.

Mr. Camero’s face maintained the mask of mania for just a moment, then his expression went blank, his eyes dead as if John’s simple recommendation had drained all the humanity out of his soul at once. With a quick but deliberate motion, Mullet Man reached behind him, producing a handgun from the small of his back and leveled it at John’s head.

“Here’s my goddamn insurance, mister,” he said in a casual voice.

A split second before the red-neck could apply enough pressure on the trigger to send a bullet into and through John’s brain, however, the planet Earth and all her inhabitants flashed out of existence in one brilliant purple flare of light.

***

Ding!

Hearing the timer from the incinerator go off, Gordon placed his bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich on his plate, stood from the table and made his way across the laboratory floor, brushing crumbs from his lab coat as he did so.

He peered into the window set into the door of the large microwave oven-type device, noting that the internal light had changed from purple to green. The plate sized Petri dish was empty now, sterilized of culture by all consuming radiation.

He opened the door and removed the dish, shaking his head in disappointment.

“So that batch didn’t work out,” Michael, his lab assistant, asked over his shoulder.

“No, it did,” Gordon replied, “We had positive growth and shared generational traits that were nothing like I’ve seen but after a while the cells just started killing each other like crazy. I mean the guys were just vicious. I figured it would be best if I just dispose of the entire batch as a precaution. Can’t imagine what would have happened if something like this got out of the lab. Bad news all around.”

“Oh well,” Michael sighed, “guess we can always try again. Was that the Earth culture?”

Gordon nodded. “Yep. I’ll start with the new strain after I finish my lunch.”

“Alright. Speaking of lunch, boss, you got a gob of it on your lab coat. No, right there on your name plate.”

“Thanks, Mike. What would I do without you.”

Taking a napkin, Gordon began to casually wipe away the dollops of mayonnaise that were completely obscuring the R, second O and N on his name tag.