Нэнси Кресс - The End Is Now

The ones who lost: He had pulled up their results on his computer before they entered and knew that he was about to deliver the most horrific news possible. Sam had done his best, but that moment when the face went from tightly wound hope to total desperation tore a bit of his soul away each time. He would want to look away, but he couldn’t; he had to be there for them, a warm and friendly face—even though he wasn’t a friend; how could he ever be a friend?—in their darkest moment. It was his duty.

Thousands. There were thousands of people who had listened, their faces so full of hope as Sam said, “I’m sorry, but you have not been chosen to emigrate.” But Sam himself would never have to face that moment; as a government employee, he didn’t have to take part in the lottery—he had been exempt and was therefore automatically one of the lucky ones.

He had been one of the last to flee North America, with the asteroid already visible in the night sky. He and eleven others were to be squeezed onto an oil tanker with a crew of twenty-four. Thirty-six souls and one million barrels of American oil, escaping the Meyer Impact.

When the day came and he had been told it was his turn to emigrate, Sam grabbed a bottle of bourbon he had saved and did nothing but drink big gulps between anguished sobs. Eventually he was too drunk to cry or too drunk to know if he was crying. He woke not remembering the last few hours of the previous night.

Those were the best hours of his recent life.

There was only one person in the galley for dinner. The blonde woman. Sam didn’t know her, but the captain called her Barbie. Sam sat down on the other side of the room with his back to her. He had just taken a bite of his hot dog when a tray slid along the table in front of him and the woman sat down.

“Hi, I’m Alex.”

Sam stared at his food. “Sam,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Alex held out a tan hand with exquisitely manicured nails. Sam shook it but didn’t say anything. She had a firm grip. After a few moments of silence, she added, “Are you afraid of the ocean?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sam almost glanced up in confusion. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just that we’re already halfway across the Atlantic, and you’re never out on deck with the rest of us. You just stay in your cabin.”

Sam didn’t reply.

Alex let out an “Oh!” then reached across the table and touched his hand. “You know, there’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re safe. In fact, the asteroid is close enough that you can see it clearly, and it’s really not that bad.”

Sam pulled his hand away.

“It’s actually quite pretty now if you think of it as a celestial body that just wants to be with us on Earth.” She leaned forward. “Be honest, don’t you think it’s pretty?”

Sam couldn’t not glance up. “ Pretty ?”

He turned away, but it was too late. He’d seen her face. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened them he was back in his Expatriation Office. The blonde woman was there.

She wasn’t there.

She was there.

They were all one.

“Yes. Do you think I’m pretty, Samuel?” The question surprised him. He had only been a Lottery Counselor for a few days and thought he had been asked every possible question, but this was new. He looked up at her. She was blonde, with a round face and bangs. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way.

“You are very pretty,” Sam stammered and then stood up. “I’m sorry, but I have another appointment. Please remember that the Grief Counselor is down the hall.”

The woman stood up, but rather than move toward the door, she approached Sam and fell to her knees and grabbed his legs. He considered pressing the panic button, but then she said, “Sam, would you like a blowjob?”

He stepped back and stumbled over his chair.

“Would you like me to give you a blowjob every night? I would do that for you. I would do that for you whenever you want if you just go to your computer and change my status.”

Sam shuffled backward around his chair as she reached for his crotch. “Please, Sam. Just think, wouldn’t it be nice to wake up with your cock in my mouth?”

Sam pressed the panic button as he maneuvered his chair between himself and the woman. (Elizabeth Mary Conroy. He would never forget the name.) “Please, Ms. Conroy. I can’t help you. I can’t change anything. I’m just a Counselor.”

Elizabeth stood up and started unbuttoning the top of her pants. “Would you prefer to fuck me? You could fuck me, Sam. You could fuck me right now.”

“I can’t help you. I’m so sorry.” The words came out as a whisper, but the woman heard them. Her hands fell to her side as the door slammed open and Terry, the security guard on duty, entered.

Looking over at the guard, Elizabeth finally cracked. Up until then she had been speaking in a calm, even seductive, voice, but now that fell away to raw desperation. She threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Please save me, Sam! I have twin girls. They’re only three years old! Three! Don’t let us die!” The words came out in sobs directly in Sam’s ear as he held her up.

“Sorry, Sam,” Terry said as he pulled Elizabeth off him, her hands clutching Sam’s shirt and pulling him along with her. “I’ll get here faster next time.” Terry grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her arm violently toward the door.

He finally untangled them, and she looked up at Sam. “My girls don’t deserve to die! Please save them.” Before she could say anything else, Terry pulled her out of the room. She glanced over her shoulder, and the look staggered Sam. She had reached the obscene point where she had accepted that she and her children were going to die, and all Sam could see was pure and utter loss.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.

He opened them to the screech of a metal chair pushing back from a table, and when Sam looked up, the blonde woman, Alex, was gone. He lowered his head and went back to his meal. Thankfully, no one else entered before he finished.

On the way back to his room after lunch he stopped by the communal bathroom to wash his hands. Thankfully it was empty. There was a large mirror above the sink, but Sam did his best to not look at it. He couldn’t reconcile the face he saw in the mirror with those that surrounded him. The grief, the loss, the desperation. He saw it everywhere except in the mirror.

It wasn’t right.

He dried his hands and looked up. He wasn’t a bad person. He had done nothing wrong. He was a messenger. He couldn’t save people, and he couldn’t condemn them either. He was innocent. I’ll live because I did a difficult job that had to be done. He forced a smile, but seeing it reminded him of a skull’s grin. I’ll live, but they won’t.

Sam lowered his head and turned on the tap. When the water from the faucet was ice cold, he splashed it onto his face. He looked up at his reflection. I’m not one of them. I’ll live. I should be grateful. Droplets slid down his cheeks. He splashed more water, hard, against his face, against his eyes. Why am I not one of them? He splashed hard again and again until he was slapping his face with his hands, not even bothering to make the excuse of putting water in his palms. Finally, his face was red, raw, and his hair hung down limp. It illustrated a pain that was familiar, almost comforting.

He walked back to his cabin. The asteroid was to impact North America tomorrow.