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by MJK Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Other · #1963391
A conversation at the end of the world, ... or not
{Last Call


“What are you doing here?”

“I always come here, every year, the same time, the same place, surely you must know that.”

“Of course, but why?”

“I promised once, a long time ago, that I would be waiting for her.”

“But she has never come, never will. She has forgotten the promise.”

“What do you know? You are a liar, you created the first lie, and you are lying now.”

“I never lie.”

“You never tell the truth.”

“Of course I do, you just don’t always want to hear it.”

“They say the world will end tonight.”

“They have said that before.”

“Yes but now they have charts and math and calendars to prove their point. They have different Gods to follow.”

“They are wrong. The world will not end as long as man is here to create it.”

“So, it is not you?”

“No, I only got the ball rolling.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“Not sure, perhaps I am talking to the wind.”

“The wind is the least of your problems.”

“It is cold out here.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“The seagull, why does he follow me?”

“He loves you.”

“I do not believe in love anymore.”

“Then why are we here? It is midnight in winter. It is cold, dark and windy and yet we stand here on the middle of this bridge, looking out over the water.”

“No one asked you to join me.”

“Actually, you did.”

“Only to prove that you were not real.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

“Just fine. You are not real. Men created gods to make it easier to face the morning, we created gods to explain what our imagination could not, we created gods, they did not create us.”

“And now you are having a rational conversation with someone standing beside you who may or may not be a figment of your imagination.”

“Exactly. So go away.”

“Why would I do that, you claim to have created me, which means that we are exactly where we are supposed to be, standing here in our fancy tuxedos. You are awaiting the end of the world, lost, alone and confused. I promise you the only thing that is going to happen tonight is the arrival of the comet. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, you can not see a comet from the bottom of the bay so lets’ go get a drink. I’m buying.”

***
When he came in the bar I didn’t think much of it. It was the middle of December; people were busy buying presents for their wives, their kids, their mistresses. I was busy making money, helping them forget their holly jolly stress. I had seen him before. Saphire Martini up with a twist. I am bad with names but I never forget a drink. He was dressed in a tuxedo.

“A little early for New Year’s,” I joked as I set the drink down in front of him.

He looked up with out laughing. “Tonight the world will be reborn. We have come to end of time.” He picked up the drink and drained it. He ordered another and one for his friend. I just shook my head as I shook and poured one martini. He was alone.

Now, I understand nuts. Spend a few years behind bars and you see quite a few. This guy was a garden variety type - harmless. Maybe he got stood up, maybe he got fired. Somehow life was not giving him a break. Maybe he got into an argument with God and lost. That happens a lot.

The end of the world thing, I read about that in the paper. There was a Mayan calendar that supposedly predicted when the world would end. As I understood it their calendar was a countdown to zero and after thousands of years tonight was it. I also read that tonight a comet would fly by Earth. Not close enough to hit us but close enough that the idiots in the Pentagon were warming up their missiles “just in case.”

As he sipped his drink I watched him. I decided it was probably a girl, maybe a guy, that stood him up. Probably not for the first time. He was doodling on a napkin with his pen. He looked around nervously like he was waiting for something or someone. “Hey relax,” I told him. “The world is not going to end today.”

“That is the second time I have heard that tonight.” He said, stopping his scribbles for a moment. “Do you know about the harmonic convergence?”

“Are they a new band?” I asked.

“Nevermind.” He sighed. He looked around the crowded bar like he was searching for someone, ordered another Sapphire and went back to his napkin.

He was still there at last call. A new day had come; zero hour had come and gone. The comet was passing harmlessly through the night sky. It was three in the morning. He paid his tab and left a huge tip.  I told him that I would see him next time, he said, I don’t think so, and left.

Cleaning up I found his cocktail napkin. There was a beautiful drawing of a man, leaping over the bay and into the stars, reaching, trying to catch a comet’s tail.

I ran out the door into the cold night but he was gone. A bright light still trailed across the sky where the comet had gone. It fell across the horizon and dove into the sea.

I went back inside and poured myself a very stiff drink.
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