600
No one suspected that the year 2062 would have become of any delectable importance at the time. 13.2 billion souls died that year, in what was colloquially known as “planetary fission”. The last day on Earth, for the majority, was ironically the second of April, after a day of long foolery and playground jibes.
A countdown timer beamed upon some of the greatest infrastructures in the world: the Taj Mahal, the White House, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and of course, Big Ben. The 12 hours went by so very quickly. I always thought that an ironic countdown tune should have conglomerated the mood.
It is amazing to watch a group of humans, thrown into an existential situation of overarching purpose, react and dispose themselves. For the first 2 hours of the sand piling down the hourglass, all they could think to do was to argue about who had caused their current situation. Pah, ridiculous. Death was always imminent when the scientists began playing around with the orbits of the planets, to help maximise light duration.
The third hour was full of inane Snapchat stories and Instagram broadcasts of pre-tweenage characters sharing their concerns, liberations and dispositions on the matter. "Aesthetics" wouldn't save a soul. Of course these two applications had much evolved since the time you all knew of them; but as the years ticked by, they became implanted into headpieces injected into children at 6 years old. It’s a poignant thought that these chips had not grown to encompass the ever looming prospect of total annihilation, and as the metaphorical zeros lolled on the world’s alarm clock, nothing could be done to prevent mass destruction.
People spent their last day’s in very different manners. By the 6 hour mark on the timer, their plans were already in action. Families swept up, and bars raided: the time fumbled along as the world faltered on its hinges. Some relied on their favourite tabloids, and sat continually refreshing the hotbar on their webpages praying for a change in events to be announced. Others surged into nostalgic disarray … of course, home videos were now a thing of the past, and with the humble VCR no longer accessible, people relied on memory transfers to displace thoughts between each other. The mid 21st century was a pitiful period indeed. A whole generation’s worth of recollections was forgotten in the update of technology - old photos and videos were unable to be processed through the new head-chips, and although one would have suspected public uproar at the loss of these memories, the new generation were never one for showing overwhelming emotion in place of the finer details in life.
I caught a few teenagers attempting to play some oldhat football on ancient Macbooks - of course they never learned to stray outside - and were seemingly disappointed to learn that the wifi had crumbled with just 4 hours to go. I think it would be fair to note that this was the most devastating blow for the youth. People never managed to look up from their digital indulgence for long enough to realise that being born into a technological age meant never being able to escape it.
Staggered denial arose around the 2 hour mark on the countdown. People began using the dusty classic literature they had stored - untouched - in their living pads as firewood, with gas and electricity stagnant over the main grid. The Hunger Games, and The Fault In Our Stars were amongst the two most utilized. Not only did the this era mark the end of the world, but also the end of finer prose such as Austen, Shakespeare and Dickens. People knew of F. Scott. Fitzgerald as “something to do with that Leonardo DiCaprio film”, and J. D Salinger could only be assumed to be some sort of fish - right?
As the clock took its final strides and rasped towards the final 10 seconds before planetary fission, I let out a sigh on behalf of the human race. This one had so much promise. Had so much guile and willing. Egotistics were their collective downfall though; it’s a shame that they discovered technology before their due course. Manipulation of what is meant to be only leads to straying from the intended path.
...
I think it’s safe to say that I grazed upon a bounty of eclectic souls that night, and I will continue to remember their appraisal. When the lights went out, and the battery diminished, the world remained silent once more.
...that is, until the glimmering blues and blacks of the night sky were illuminated with such vigour, that they appeared white and gold to some.
Lost S3 R1
I'm against Pikamoar. Find his blog here, and the poll is forthcoming.
EDIT: poll
totally not just because Pika did one and I'm a sucker for peer pressure...
A countdown timer beamed upon some of the greatest infrastructures in the world: the Taj Mahal, the White House, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and of course, Big Ben. The 12 hours went by so very quickly. I always thought that an ironic countdown tune should have conglomerated the mood.
It is amazing to watch a group of humans, thrown into an existential situation of overarching purpose, react and dispose themselves. For the first 2 hours of the sand piling down the hourglass, all they could think to do was to argue about who had caused their current situation. Pah, ridiculous. Death was always imminent when the scientists began playing around with the orbits of the planets, to help maximise light duration.
The third hour was full of inane Snapchat stories and Instagram broadcasts of pre-tweenage characters sharing their concerns, liberations and dispositions on the matter. "Aesthetics" wouldn't save a soul. Of course these two applications had much evolved since the time you all knew of them; but as the years ticked by, they became implanted into headpieces injected into children at 6 years old. It’s a poignant thought that these chips had not grown to encompass the ever looming prospect of total annihilation, and as the metaphorical zeros lolled on the world’s alarm clock, nothing could be done to prevent mass destruction.
People spent their last day’s in very different manners. By the 6 hour mark on the timer, their plans were already in action. Families swept up, and bars raided: the time fumbled along as the world faltered on its hinges. Some relied on their favourite tabloids, and sat continually refreshing the hotbar on their webpages praying for a change in events to be announced. Others surged into nostalgic disarray … of course, home videos were now a thing of the past, and with the humble VCR no longer accessible, people relied on memory transfers to displace thoughts between each other. The mid 21st century was a pitiful period indeed. A whole generation’s worth of recollections was forgotten in the update of technology - old photos and videos were unable to be processed through the new head-chips, and although one would have suspected public uproar at the loss of these memories, the new generation were never one for showing overwhelming emotion in place of the finer details in life.
I caught a few teenagers attempting to play some oldhat football on ancient Macbooks - of course they never learned to stray outside - and were seemingly disappointed to learn that the wifi had crumbled with just 4 hours to go. I think it would be fair to note that this was the most devastating blow for the youth. People never managed to look up from their digital indulgence for long enough to realise that being born into a technological age meant never being able to escape it.
Staggered denial arose around the 2 hour mark on the countdown. People began using the dusty classic literature they had stored - untouched - in their living pads as firewood, with gas and electricity stagnant over the main grid. The Hunger Games, and The Fault In Our Stars were amongst the two most utilized. Not only did the this era mark the end of the world, but also the end of finer prose such as Austen, Shakespeare and Dickens. People knew of F. Scott. Fitzgerald as “something to do with that Leonardo DiCaprio film”, and J. D Salinger could only be assumed to be some sort of fish - right?
As the clock took its final strides and rasped towards the final 10 seconds before planetary fission, I let out a sigh on behalf of the human race. This one had so much promise. Had so much guile and willing. Egotistics were their collective downfall though; it’s a shame that they discovered technology before their due course. Manipulation of what is meant to be only leads to straying from the intended path.
...
I think it’s safe to say that I grazed upon a bounty of eclectic souls that night, and I will continue to remember their appraisal. When the lights went out, and the battery diminished, the world remained silent once more.
...that is, until the glimmering blues and blacks of the night sky were illuminated with such vigour, that they appeared white and gold to some.
Lost S3 R1
I'm against Pikamoar. Find his blog here, and the poll is forthcoming.
EDIT: poll
Week's Theme
Like, y'know, Spaceballs. A humorous twist on the classic science fiction theme. Make me laugh out of this world. that wasn't even good But for real, though, write something of the science fiction genre and make it funny. It doesn't have to be satirical but it can be.
---------
I made a pretty loose response to the theme, because in all honesty sci-fi isn't really my thing. Neither is being funny (hence the lack of outright knock you off your socks punning left right and centre) - I tried to be somewhat witty, and hope that you'll appreciate the satirical undermining of our entire generation. Enjoy!
---------
I made a pretty loose response to the theme, because in all honesty sci-fi isn't really my thing. Neither is being funny (hence the lack of outright knock you off your socks punning left right and centre) - I tried to be somewhat witty, and hope that you'll appreciate the satirical undermining of our entire generation. Enjoy!
totally not just because Pika did one and I'm a sucker for peer pressure...
| Credit | Chron, Pikamoar |
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