The Last Days of Everything
The redhead latched onto me in Paris when I was high and ready to throw myself at even a mannequin. To my surprise, when I woke up, she was still there, and it simply floored me. Usually girls of this sort can’t wait for you to fall asleep, then they shamelessly rob you and vanish… The fact that she stayed could mean anything, including that she’d genuinely fallen for me. While shaving, I examined myself critically in the mirror: “Nope, no looker. And the belly’s already rounded out, and overall,” I smirked, “probably not above average, maybe even below.”
The binge with the romance had stretched into its third day when she suggested driving to Geneva for a couple of days to visit her sister. Apparently I agreed, though I can’t vouch for that. An hour later we were already on the road in her car, and I was starting to like it. Better than being cooped up in a hotel. Geneva was lovely and evoked something good and pleasant. After strolling through the city, we stopped at a small café in some alley. After ordering for myself and her, I drank the juice the waiter brought. And that was it.
Opening my eyes, I saw a stylishly furnished room. Probably another hotel… My head ached slightly, but I got up and, approaching the table against the wall, poured myself water from the carafe. The water had lemon juice and was quite refreshing. Oddly, there were no windows in the room. The only option was to go out into the corridor and figure out what was what. Patting my pockets, I confirmed that both money and credit cards were in place, in my wallet. The door to the room was unlocked, and I stepped into the corridor. Closing the door, I discovered that from the corridor side it was transparent, meaning anyone passing by could see me sleeping. Fear crawled down my spine in a thin, sticky trickle. “What kind of place is this?” Since the only way to learn anything wasn’t here, I cautiously moved forward. Along the way, both left and right, were doors, also transparent. I could see various people working with instruments, sitting at desks, and simply sleeping, as I had been five minutes ago. They were closed. All of them. So, I wandered on, trying doors but not daring to ring or knock. At the end of the corridor was another door, not transparent, and it stood ajar. There was nowhere to retreat, so I entered. An office like any office, a balding guy in a civilian suit sitting at a desk. “Staring, wondering what I’ll say to him?”
Random
Thank God, not too frightened — strong fellow. “Come in, Boris,” gesturing for him to sit down to avoid unnecessary questions, I continued: “First of all, let’s get acquainted. My name is Random, I’m something like a coordinator here. And I know everything or almost everything about you. I’m the one who recommended you for our team.” His face is rather stupid-looking. Could mine really have looked like that once? “So, not to waste time, I’ll tell you everything: about you, about us, about how we met, and what will happen for some time. When Boris warily sat down on the chair, I requested via intercom that Jessica bring coffee, to make a favorable impression, and didn’t utter a sound until he’d drunk a good half of his cup. “So, you, Boris… However, nowhere is a man better described than in a eulogy.” Taking a folder from the safe, I pushed it across the desk to Boris. While he read his biography, epitaph, and examined photographs from his funeral, I decided not to waste time and began preparing materials for the subsequent constructive conversation. Essentially, I even felt sorry for him, despite the fact that we were all in the same boat. I remember examining my own photographs in a coffin with no less horror. But nevertheless, business is business and nothing personal. “So,” I distracted him, “you can finish looking later, let’s get down to business. We’re all one team here, our goal is nothing more and nothing less than trying to save humanity. Answering your unspoken question: I don’t know, maybe even from Him. The thing is, one day the G8 members agreed to create something like a bureau — with undefined goals, but with a trend toward philosophical evaluation of existence based on certain documents found from a previous civilization. The degree of secrecy during creation was terrifying, and for a long time they couldn’t make the assembled collective of scientists understand what was expected of them. But gradually the collective self-organized and set itself the task — to determine the purpose of humanity’s life. Or do you believe in Darwin’s theory?” Not waiting for an answer, I continued. “The further the research went, the clearer it became that we appeared for a reason. As you know from your university program: you can only understand a system by being outside it. That’s why this complex was built, about whose existence practically no one anywhere knows. At all. Even those who designed and built it consider it part of a general system. Not to keep you in suspense, I’ll say right away — the Large Hadron Collider. We’re inside its ring system, which shields us. From everyone, I hope, even from Him,” not waiting for counter-questions, “we discovered that each person is a generator of special energy, which they give off. Like a cow gives milk. But over time, due to various circumstances, the most powerful of which is progress, society’s energy frequency changes… and civilizations change. Of course, it’s not one frequency, it’s a whole spectrum; sometimes there’s more of one type than others, and wars happen; sometimes the opposite, and an idyllic peace arrives… though not for long. The duration of any given period depends on the need to adjust the frequency range and intensity of the radiated emission. Well, something like that. There have already been several civilizations before us, and they figured all this out too. But they couldn’t change anything, and were ultimately replaced by us. But probably soon we too will pass into oblivion. I’ll answer the likely question right away: our predecessors really wanted to negotiate and create filters to correct the output energy to the needed frequency. But since we’re here, it means they didn’t come to an agreement. You’ve probably heard about the last ones-the Atlanteans,” waiting for a nod, I continued: “Due to various, primarily innate, reasons, people have a very significant scatter of brain parameters, and there are those who won’t immediately die on command. People like you, Boris.” Savoring the effect produced, I explained: “The Atlanteans advanced much further than us on this question. By the way, they were also more powerful than us both technically and physically. Gravity and time were child’s play for them. And they didn’t start from zero either, but from the foundation of preceding civilizations. So, these special people who didn’t die ‘on command’ managed to document everything and hide it so that it reached us. I’m talking about the pyramids. By the way, it was precisely on our predecessors’ advice that we started with the collider. They believed it would shield us from Him and give us a chance to achieve results. Well, and if there are no results, then you, Boris, will prepare everything and hide it for the coming civilization. That’s it in brief. Any questions?”
I
“Yes.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. “So it’s reliably established that we have a Creator.” Receiving an affirmative answer, I continued: “And he doesn’t know about you and what you’re doing here? Or do you suppose he knew at the moment of the collider’s launch, but not after? And another thing. I was lured here, they staged a funeral at home, and yet you hope I’ll participate in this and be loyal? Is that it?”
Random
You see, Boris, He of course knows and can get to us, but only by destroying the collider. The collider’s design is such that this can only be done along with the entire planet, and that’s probably too high a price for us. You simply can’t turn off the collider — it’s specially designed that way. And it doesn’t matter anymore; the rate of energy frequency change has reached the point at which the Atlanteans were simply destroyed. How much time is left-a day, a month, a year — we don’t know.
People like you, Boris-we found sixteen on the entire planet. I won’t hide it, you’re the most prepared: culture, education, character. But if you say “no” — then no. We’ll try to negotiate with others. And we’ll have to say goodbye to you then. You understand, there’s no prison here. Go and think about it until tomorrow. In the morning I’ll expect an answer — either you’re with us, or we’ll be saying goodbye.
I
Leaving the office, I wandered back down the corridor to my room. Walking along the transparent doors, I saw in one of the halls a machine of fantastic size and design. Without thinking, I pressed the buzzer by the door. The door opened automatically, and I entered. The hall was enormous; I didn’t see the ceiling at all — though the lighting was somewhere around the third floor level, above was semi-darkness. Approaching the machine, I simply stood and listened to the conversations of people bustling around it. They were speaking English, and I ventured to ask: “I’m new here, what kind of apparatus is this?” A stooped man with a goatee, probably the senior one, explained: “This is a sectoral energy frequency modifier.” I didn’t want to ask further, and nodding, I went out into the corridor. I wanted to smoke, and I walked past my room, on whose door a nameplate with my name had already (!) appeared, to the other end of the corridor. I wasn’t mistaken; the smoking room was right there. Two women of Balzac age were unhurriedly smoking and discussing something. My appearance distracted them from their subject of conversation, and summoning courage, I asked for a cigarette. “A newbie,” rejoiced the one facing me, “it’s been a long time since we’ve had fresh people in our panopticon — take some from the cabinet,” and she elegantly pointed with her finger to the corner. Opening the cabinet, I found about twenty cartons of cigarettes of various brands. Lighting up, I fell into thought, completely forgetting about the ladies smoking nearby.
“You’re probably upset by the first conversation?” the blonde one asked sympathetically. “Everyone went through this, but then got used to it and even find a certain charm in it.” “Especially since there’s no way out of here,” added the second one, a brunette, “except to the crematorium.” Taking a couple of packs and a lighter with me, I went to my room. After watching television, I lay down on the sofa and fell asleep. I dreamed of Him.
I’d always imagined Him as an old man, probably that’s why he came that way. “Resisting?” the elder asked sternly and wagged his finger. “No,” I hesitated, “you yourself know perfectly well how I got here. By the way, I haven’t given my answer yet.” “I know,” He replied, “I know everything — sin brought you here, didn’t it?” To deny it was foolish, and I agreed. Though… “Well, if not for sin, I wouldn’t be here?” “You would be,” the elder agreed. “But sin is sin,” and he wagged his finger again. What could I say to that, and can one object at all? Probably not. But to ask… “Why are you going to destroy us, for our sins?” “What, aren’t there any, or isn’t there enough of what’s been done to die of shame?” There was nothing substantial to say, and I fell silent. Think until morning, and then it will become clear whose side you’re on. Falling silent, He wagged his finger again. Then the conversation proceeded in a more benevolent tone and ended on a neutral note. “Remember…” was the last thing I heard…
The alarm clock in the form of a mermaid waving her tail to the melody pulled me out of dreams sticky as adhesive tape. Sluggishly washing and dressing, I went out into the corridor and stood pondering: go to the “executioner” or to breakfast? Someone’s hand fell on my shoulder, and I involuntarily shuddered. Turning around, I saw a young guy about twenty-five. I think I’d seen him somewhere, but where? Noticing my bewilderment, he prompted: winner of the mathematical olympiad among young scientists last year. Right, I immediately remembered — his portrait had been on newspaper front pages along with photos of a car accident. “Shall we have breakfast?” And embarrassed, he introduced himself: “Thomas.” The cafeteria was literally around the corner, which was quite opportune. I was tensely pondering: did he approach me on purpose or was it random? This guy couldn’t be denied perceptiveness: having loaded his tray with food, he excused himself and went over to a guy his age who had just entered. Judging by their conversation, they were friends. “Well then, at least I’ll die on a full stomach,” I decided and attacked the ham and cottage cheese with olives. After eating, I went out into the corridor and headed for my execution.
Random
He came. One look at his face is enough: he’s decided to die heroically. Well, well. “Listen, Boris, before you open your mouth, I’ll tell you something else.” Having recounted his dream to him word for word, I watched his confusion with pleasure. “Did I guess right? Everyone newly arrived here has had this dream. You don’t need to answer, just go out into the corridor and ask anyone. It’s true. And of course, it’s not for nothing. Before you got here, He programmed you for this. And not only that. For what else? Not now, I’ll definitely tell you, but not now. We know everything you intend and will do. It’s like neurolinguistic programming. Take this, only open it a bit later, please.” And I handed him an envelope. “Read it at your leisure; here are described all the thoughts that will probably come to your mind, and our arguments — why you shouldn’t do them. Well, that’s all for now, I won’t keep you. Rest, lunch is at two, you know where.”
I
Already standing, I felt extremely foolish. Ping-pong, damn it, he knows what I’m dreaming, what I’m just thinking, and what I’ll do in connection with it. “You know what, Random, it’s not quite like that.” Aha, got him, then I’ll continue. “The dream was almost like that, but there’s a difference. It’s as follows. He told me that in the third cartridge, in the magazine of your pistol lying in the safe, the primer is skewed. Well okay, I’ll go to my room and think some more.” Leaving, I felt fear with my back. His fear. And he thought only he was so tough and had everyone by the throat.
Random
The wind of death. If what Boris said is true, then things are bad. I reloaded the pistol the day before yesterday, after cleaning. And which cartridge would be third, no one could know, except Him, of course. That is, He knows about an event that already occurred here. This fundamentally changes everything. I’ll check, and if it matches, I’ll have to sound the alarm, convene the council, and it’s still unknown when and how it will all end. Probably no one will film my second funeral.
I
Since I’d managed, albeit briefly, to get acquainted with three center employees, I decided to find one of them. Just to talk. I didn’t know the names of the two ladies, but Thomas could probably be found quickly. Ringing at the first door I came to, I asked the girl who looked out where to find this guy. Thanking her for the answer, I thought that she too had had to look at her funeral photos, and shuddered. Thomas was at the opposite end of the corridor, but I found him quickly. He was sitting at a computer calculating something. Amazingly, he wasn’t even surprised by my appearance. These Scandinavians are composed to the point of indecency. “So, I decided to visit,” was the only thing that came to mind. “What are you working on?”
Random
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The primer is skewed, and indeed, on the third cartridge. Is it possible to calculate in advance the probability of such an event long before its occurrence? What’s the purpose of this information — to make us shut down the program? Or maybe, conversely, to accelerate it, in the sense of preparing data about what’s been achieved, for our descendants? This thought was especially painful. Everything we’ve developed will lie in the ground’s thickness for millennia, until people like us get to the materials and continue our work. No, there have been plenty of people before us too. They perished, so why should we remain? There must be meaning in all this, but it constantly eludes us. Energy is energy, but other reasons are possible. Nothing is clear. For example, why did information about the Atlanteans’ analogous project and their predecessors reach us, but not technical descriptions of their machines and technologies? It doesn’t add up. Did they begrudge describing everything and leaving it, if they were going into oblivion anyway? Doubtful. So they were allowed to leave only everything related to this particular project. It turns out our work was predetermined too. But why? Should I convene the council? After all, if everyone finds out, then probably some of the project employees — planted as observers — will start taking some actions. For example, to liquidate the project. It’s probably very simple. I suppose there are gas cylinders in the walls and buttons to set everything in motion. Or maybe it will be done somehow differently? But really, what difference does it make how? I need to make a decision. But which one?
Thomas
I knew he’d come to me. Back then, in the corridor, when I showed him where the cafeteria was, I understood — now he won’t leave me alone until he talks it out. Pity he’s not Norwegian, Swedish, or at least Finnish; we could have sat in silence, thought about the vain over drinks… This one will pour out his soul, like the mechanic from the second hall. There’s no choice, I’ll have to endure it; he’s probably really having a hard time. “Hi, Boris, how are things? Though don’t tell me, I can see by your face. I’m trying to calculate the probability of various events. Both those that were and those that might be. Interesting? Look here, a lot doesn’t add up: wars and natural disasters, births and deaths, and in general a whole series of events simply couldn’t have happened — but did. And not ‘possibly happened,’ but happened and was documented. You’re probably pondering the answer you should give Random?” Receiving a nod in response, I opened the file with macro calculations. This is the probability of humanity’s appearance, this is the probability of the pyramids’ preservation and what we got from the Atlanteans. You see for yourself — it doesn’t add up… This couldn’t have been. We don’t write history. That’s obvious.”
I
He’s a good guy; at another time I might even have befriended him. But now I don’t even know what I want at all. “Here’s the thing, Thomas, I told Random about my dream. You had this dream too, right? And I told him about the cartridge. Can you calculate the probability that everything could have been foreseen in advance, even before the group was assembled? That we’re really shielded?” God, how frightened he got; apparently I really am a herald of sorrow. Not my fault, I didn’t strive to come here.
Rebecca
Last night I dreamed of my husband again. Lately he’s been a rare guest. Obviously, meeting the newbie reopened the wound. Humanity’s problems are important, of course, but my son and husband… My first conversation came to mind. Oh God, how scary! Why did I go to the physics and technology institute? I’d be like my sister, like my friends, living normally after all. Well, He’ll finish off humanity or take pity and leave it for another thousand years-is it so important? Watch television for just one evening and you can’t help thinking, well, we don’t deserve any mercy. The purpose of life — does it even exist? If humanity hasn’t figured it out over millennia, then what can a handful of people locked underground decide in a year, or two, or even five? Complete nonsense. There’s just nowhere to go; there’s only one way out of here — feet first — into the furnace. How scary. Maybe go see the newbie? At least talk with a fresh person; he doesn’t seem like a science fanatic.
Boris was in his room. He was curled up in a ball on the bed, like a kitten that’s been spanked for misbehaving and, burying its nose in its paw, doesn’t want to see the annoying world. “May I come in?” But really, what ceremony… Just enter and that’s it. Taking an ashtray from the desk drawer, I lit up. “Boris… don’t pretend you’re sleeping. You’re a fresh person, and therefore interesting. We’re here like on a submarine, we know each other and everything about each other. Boring… Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not Random’s agent, I’m on my own. I just came to visit. Won’t you send me away? I’m engaged in generalizing what’s been collected for posterity. Every day I add fresh information to the message. I’d like to know who will hide it after everything. Well, you understand…”
I
“I’ll be the one hiding it, if what Random says is true, of course. Then I’ll survive you all, but probably not for long. Something like a week or two. Though Thomas claims it might even be a month. Pity only that after hiding everything, I won’t be able to get to the surface. The corridor — like a valve — works in one direction.” Breaking the silence that ensued, I summed up: “Judging by everything, there’s very little time left. And what, are they watching us now?” Receiving a nod in response and a finger pointing the direction to search, I approached the wardrobe. The camera wasn’t even hidden; it simply stood on one of the shelves. I could, of course, break it or put a book in front of it. But why? Hide? Here, it seems, is precisely the place where even morality doesn’t matter. “You know what, I’m rather fed up with all this. Let’s have a drink, and then have sex.” Squinting, I waited for a slap. At least. But opening my eyes, I saw her opening the refrigerator and taking a bottle of gin from the shelf. Well then. Imagining sex in a room with transparent doors and under camera surveillance, I choked.
Rebecca
Silly boy, he thinks that here we continue playing the games that society imposed on us. The door to the mousetrap has slammed shut — that’s it. Nothing else exists: families, obligations, morality in the end. I wonder, does Random himself review the recordings from the rooms or is it someone else? But essentially there’s no difference; I’ll consider it Random. Someone has to be hated. Enemies must exist too, so let him be my Captain Hook. “Do you like it straight or should I dilute it with soda?” The gin, like everything else here, was of excellent quality. The first sip is always difficult for me; it’s as if I’m restraining myself, but then everything goes surprisingly well. So now too, forcing myself to drink the first sip, I patiently awaited relief. It didn’t deceive; it came, but it became stuffy, and I unbuttoned the top button…
Random
So, he’s already managed to blab everything, first to Thomas, then to Rebecca. So what? Am I condemning him or something? It’s even for the better, let’s sharpen the situation. Finish everything, tomorrow. And that’s it. This is simply unbearable. Even here everyone can somehow live and arrange their life. I alone am like an unquiet Cerberus. No, not alone; I know there are at least two more. But who? Out of curiosity I’ve tried to figure it out more than once, without result. Who instructed them then? I was the first after the chief from the group of project organizers, wasn’t I? I wonder if any of them are still alive? I’m afraid not. Taking the photo album from the desk, I immersed myself in the past. My past. Wife, son, sister. How are they? Did they manage to pay off the house? Oh God, why did you start all this? Opening the safe, I took out the device. It looks like an ordinary phone; it’s hard to believe this isn’t our technology — we found it in the pyramid along with instructions for use. It became as dreary as during that, my first conversation. To hell with it all… Pressing the button and waiting for the end of the rings, I barely squeezed out: “Good evening, this is Random calling…”
I
Breakfast was funereal; everyone silently chewed something. In silence. Complete. I’d already guessed that everyone knew about my story about the cartridge. Well then, the sentence has been passed; we’ll await punishment. “A moment of attention,” I heard myself say. Wait, did I say that? Turns out, yes. “So,” I continued. “Today I had another dream and want to share it with you. I’d like to know — is this a standard dream that everyone had, or does it also have deviations?” How scary to look at their faces. Do I really fear death this way too? Or not death? What am I doing, why am I doing this to them? So, the dream… first it was in the desert…
Thomas
God, you sent us a herald; now there’s no doubt, he’s the one who must tell us about our near future. Subsequent times probably won’t exist. Pity. Back then at the graduation party… pity… but who knew…
Rebecca
It’s not him speaking; he’s only opening his mouth. So everything has come to an end. It’s probably good… Thank You…
Random
The path to the cafeteria seemed to me as long and difficult as the Via Dolorosa. Though without a cross, it’s hard to walk when you know the day’s plan exactly. The last one. And here’s Golgotha. Just as I thought, he’s prophesying again, a regular Cassandra… Alright, now it’s my turn. Opening the door, I felt gazes like knitting needles stuck into my body; everyone becomes sensitive here. “Good morning, gentlemen, what are we discussing? Probably Boris’s new dream. I want to disappoint you, Boris-your dream doesn’t matter anymore. I called and received precise instructions. I suggest everyone breakfast unhurriedly and gather in the conference hall. There are no more secrets; I’ll tell you everything as it is.”
Looking at the hall from the stage isn’t easy for me. I’m not an actor, and apparently I have no panache. But I must. Good thing it won’t be for long…
“Gentlemen, not many of you know that from our predecessors, besides instructions for continuing the work, some technical devices were also found. One of them resembles a telephone, which, in principle, it is. The phone’s description says it can only be used once. That time was yesterday; I called,” looking at the tense faces, I clarified: “The Atlanteans installed a supercomputer with artificial intelligence in the Moon, which, being self-sufficient, continued work on the project throughout the entire time between our civilizations. That’s who I spoke with. I regret to report that the probability of the last day has reached practically one hundred percent. By the way, our comrades in misfortune and producers of the other required part of energy — humpback whales — have already gathered over the underwater pyramid in the Bermuda Triangle. This story was even in last night’s news. I don’t know what and from where they know and how they communicate with each other, but practically all currently living specimens are there. I assume you yourselves have felt that things are approaching a resolution. I propose the following program for the day. We all together prepare our message, ask Boris to place everything in the shelter. At the end of the day, if we have time, a banquet. For this occasion we have champagne, oysters, and other delicacies in reserve. And one more thing, a request to my duplicates for liquidating the facility — don’t rush with the decision. Who knows what’s right? All instructions were given both to me and to you back in that implicit situation… Well, that seems to be all; does anyone want to speak?”
I
Well, how quickly everything was decided. Amazing, no screams, no crying; one might think these aren’t people but life-sized dolls. Well then, my turn, since I’m the herald of death — it’s for me to conclude. Quite logical, in my opinion. Standing, I fell into thought, and only Random’s throat-clearing brought me out of my stupor. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t me who told you the dream,” hearing no reaction, I continued: “I repeat, it wasn’t me speaking, but someone through me. By the way, he didn’t finish. So, the last thing I dreamed — a meadow and a grazing herd of cows. And now let’s really hurry; after all, a banquet doesn’t happen every day. Well, and those who wake up tomorrow can go outside.” Waiting for an effect, even if silent but expressed on faces, I finished. At the end of the meadow I saw a hill; a door is hidden in it; for those interested, I’m dictating the lock’s opening code — ‘infinity’.”
