End as a World
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by DIEHL
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction September 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Prophets aplenty foretold the end—but not one
ever guessed just how it would come about!
Every paper said so in all the languages there were, I guess. I keptreading them, but didn't know what to believe. I know what I wanted tothink, but that's different from actually knowing.
There was the usual news just after Labor Day. The Dodgers were winningor losing, I forget which, and UCLA was strong and was going to beateverybody they met that fall. An H-bomb had been tested in thePacific, blowing another island off the map, just as if we had islandsto spare. Ordinarily this was important, but now it wasn't. They putstuff like this in the back pages and hardly anybody reads it. Therewas only one thing on the front pages and it was all people talkedabout. All I talked about, anyway.
It began long before. I don't know how long because they didn't printthat. But it began and there it was, right upon us that day. Itwas Saturday. Big things always seem to happen on Saturdays. I atebreakfast and got out early. I had the usual things to do, mowing thelawn, for instance. I didn't do it nor anything else and nobody saidanything. There wasn't any use in mowing the lawn on a day like that.
I went out, remembering not to slam the door. It wasn't much, but itshowed thoughtfulness. I went past the church and looked at the signthat was set diagonally at the corner so that it could be read fromboth streets. There it was in big letters, quoting from the papers:THIS IS THE DAY THE WORLD ENDS! Some smart reporter had thought it upand it seemed so true that that was the only way it was ever said. Me?I didn't know.
It was a bright day. People were out walking or just standing andlooking at the sky. It was too early to look up. I went on. PaulEberhard was sitting on the lawn when I came along. He tossed me thefootball and I caught it and tried to spin it on my finger. It didn'tspin. It fell and flopped out with crazy bounces into the street.The milk truck stopped, while I got it out of the way. I tossed thefootball back to Paul. He put his hand on it and sat there.
"What'll we do?" he said.
I made a motion with my hands. "We can throw the ball around," I said.
"Naw," he said. "Maybe you've got some comic books."
"You've seen them all," I said. "You got some?"
"I gave them to Howie," he said, thoughtfully screwing the point of theball into the center of a dandelion. "He said he was going to get somenew ones though. Let's go see." He got up and tossed the ball towardthe porch. It hit the railing and bounced back into the bushes. That'swhere he usually kept it.
"Paul," called his mother as we started out.
"Yeah?"
"Don't go far. I've got some things I want you to do."
"What?" he said patiently.
"Hauling trash out of the basement. Helping me move some of the pottedplants around in front."
"Sure," he said. "I'll be back."
We went past another church on the way to Howie's. The sign was thesame there. THIS IS THE DAY THE WORLD ENDS! They never said more thanthat. They wanted it to hang in our minds, something we couldn't quitetouch, but we knew was there.