Colourful apocolypse

Emric crawled out of his sleeping compartment and rubbed his eyes. The warm yellow light in the pod gradually brightened, a new day dawned. But this wasn’t just any day, this was a special day. Depending on who you believed, today could be the last day he ever needed to crawl out of bed.

Emric considered a shower, but was there any point. He would either need a shower after work or he wouldn’t. Time would tell, as it usually does. He threw on his work suit, more of an overall really, but they frowned on words like that these days. It was something to do with making you feel more important. It was why his title was officially Waste Management Engineer. As he stood on the veranda of his neat little home, the sun was making its first and, some said, last appearance over the horizon. Peeping over the treetops, like a naughty schoolboy, hiding from a teacher.

‘Emric, well met my friend.’ Alarius called to him from his garden next door. ‘Today is the day, I hope you have prepared everything.’

Emric waved and nodded.  He didn’t want to engage in more conversations with his neighbour. Alarius, the wise man. Alarius the moron, more like. For the last few weeks, the old man had been telling him to prepare for the worst, promising to put a good word in for him with the people in the know. Alarius was what used to be called a religious nutcase, but these days he was known as the village eccentric. The world was odd.

Emric climbed into the cabin of his Maxipod XTE cruiser, started the engine and pulled out of the drive and onto the main road. He had opted for the XTE version because it came with extra padding on the seats and a cushioned gear knob. When you were a Senior Waste Management Engineer working for the Albion Municipal Office, you deserved a little comfort. His round always started with the Clifftop Hotel on Main Street. No one knew why it was called that, it wasn’t near a cliff. Perhaps it used to be, or maybe a man called Cliff built it, who knew? Emric figured it probably didn’t matter anymore anyway. He reversed his cruiser up to the buildings waste management hatch, pulled a lever and slipped out of the cab. He stood back and watched as the machinery did it’s job, sucking and gurgling away. Apparently, back in the day, when Waste management Engineers were called ‘Bin Men’, they used to handle the rubbish themselves. Hoisting the bins onto their backs and emptying them into a lorry, by hand. Emric shuddered at the thought. So much better now the machine did it for you, he thought. As if mocking him, the machine decided that was the point it would stop working and the gurgling noise became a clanking noise, followed closely by a clunk, then a creak. The next thing Emric new he was covered in brown liquid squirting from the back of his cruiser. He leapt out of the way and the brown smelly goo flooded the hotel carpark. Emric sighed. 

After a hasty repair job worthy of Mr Heath Robinson himself, Emric made his way around the rest of the city, doing his best to ignore the fishy aroma coming from his worksuit. The last call of the day was always the one he looked forward to most, the cafe. Not so much because the coffee was particularly nice, or that the doughnuts were to die for, but because that’s where Jools worked. Jools Holloway, his childhood sweetheart. They had known each other since nursery school, he fell in love with her when he was four, and had hoped that one day they would be married and live happily ever after. The problem with dreams such as this, you often have to tell the other person involved. Emric had loved Jools from a distance, never plucking up the courage to say anything to her, maybe today was the day.

The cafe was empty when he made his way in and took a seat by the window. He guessed they wouldn’t be open much longer, most of the city was closing at lunchtime to give people the chance to run away. He gazed out the window as the sun beat down across the city, preparing itself for its deadly attack later on this afternoon.  According to popular belief, although not something Emric entirely agreed with, later that day, around 3pm, the solar flares from the sun would increase to such an intensity that everything on the surface of the planet would burn to a crisp. Today was the end of the world as he knew it, apparently. 

A pretty redheaded waitress made her way over to his table, he couldn’t remember her name. Debbie, Denise, Delores... something beginning with D, he was sure.

‘Hello, I’m Tanya, I’ll be your waitress today, what can I get you?’ she said. OK, so it was T, the point was, it wasn’t Jools. He ordered coffee and pancakes, hoping that maybe Jools was just on a break.

‘Is Jools not working today?’ he asked when his order arrived.

‘No, I think she was meeting her boyfriend. They are off somewhere safe for this afternoon.’

His heart sank. Of course, she would be away with him. Rylax worked in the government building in the centre of the city. They had been offering their employees accommodation in their underground bunker to keep them safe from the imminent disaster. Obviously after the destruction of the surface of the planet, the one thing any survivors would need would be government officials. Who else would tell everyone what to do and make them pay taxes to do it? He finished his breakfast quickly and left. 

He walked across the street and headed for the memorial in the centre of the city. He sat down on the bench in front of the garden of remembrance, the splash of colour in the middle of the sprawling metal metropolis was supposed to give people a space to reflect, and remember. Ironically, no one could remember what the gardens were supposed to signify. They were pretty though. He stretched his legs out, leaned back and closed his eyes.

‘Ahem, may we introduce you to our Lord and Saviour?’ a voice made him jump. He opened his eyes and shielded them from the bright sunlight. Standing before him were three men dressed in long blue robes. The first carried a little red book in his hand, the second had a pile of leaflets, and the third had a triangle, which he kept hitting at random intervals. It’s a well-known fact that all religious groups had to carry some sort of musical instrument with them wherever they went. The Sons of Steven had chosen a triangle. 

‘We are having a little gathering at the church, this afternoon. Maybe you would like to join us?’ the first Son said.

‘There will be cake.’ Said the second, thrusting a leaflet into Emric’s hand. The third, hit his triangle and grinned.

‘Oh, well...’ said Emric ‘Maybe I’ll come along.’ He took the leaflet being offered to him. He had no intention of joining them in their little church, or eating their cake, but he had learnt over the years its better to just nod and agree with these people rather than try to argue. Life was too short, especially today.

‘Steven be with you.’ They intoned together as they marched off in search of more people to convert.

Emric screwed the leaflet up and dropped it in the bin (waste management container). It was probably a bit late for religious salvation anyway. He checked his watch, 1.30pm, wouldn’t be long now, he thought. He left the gardens of memorial and made his way towards the outskirts of the city. The city looked strange now it was so empty, he felt like the last survivor in a disaster movie. Everything seemed so quiet, even the throb from the recycling plant had ceased. As he reached the outskirts, he saw a line of people queuing up to enter the catacombs. The catacombs beneath the city had been there for hundreds of years, they dated back to a time way before the climate crisis, way before the fossil wars, and even, some said, before the invention of electricity, although Emric could hardly believe that one. They were mostly used for storage now, but over the last few months had been converted into a huge underground hotel, where for a mere 1000 credits you could secure yourself a place to hide from the end of the world. Emric had decided not to bother.

The city of Rigport sat between two large hills. Some would call them mountains, if they were being particularly generous. The one on the Western edge was called Old Harrys Bench. Something else no one knew why, Emric often thought that no one seemed to know very much about very much at all. He leapt over the fence, ignoring a perfectly good gate, and started up the lower slopes of Old Harry. He had been coming here since he was a child. His father used to bring him up to look across the city and would regale him with stories of the fossil wars, and the climate crisis, and all that ancient history that Emric loved so much. Halfway up the hill was a bench and a telescope where, if you had the right coins, you could look across the valley and stare up the nostrils of someone sitting on the bench halfway up the other hill, Martha’s Hillock. Today Emric just sat quietly on the bench and looked across the still and silent city, wondering if this was the last time, he would see it.

‘Emric? Is that you?’ came a voice from behind him. He looked up to see a young blonde girl, about his age, with the most amazing blue eyes you ever saw, although today they were red and puffy. She had clearly been crying.

‘Hey Jools. I thought you were off with Rylax? Are you OK’? he said.

Jools sat down next to him on the bench. ‘I was.’ She said.  ‘Rylax had a place for us at the municipal building. Well, I thought he had, turns out he had a place for himself. He said I should head to the catacombs, but they are full.’ Her voice faltered, she seemed deflated, not her usual bubbly self. Typical of Rylax, Emric thought, only cares about himself.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know now, its a bit late to find anywhere. I thought I’d find you up here though. What were you going to do?’

‘Take my chances up here. I honestly think it will be fine. Or it won’t and I’ll get to see how it all ends.’ Emric said with a shrug. ‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly three.’ Jools said. They sat in silence for what seemed like an age.

‘How long have we known each other, Emric?’ Jools said.

Emric thought for a moment. ‘Nearly twenty years.’ He said.

Jools nodded. ‘In all that time, why have you never asked me out?’

‘I, well, umm, I was waiting for the right time?’ he tried.

Jools smiled. ‘Bit late now I suppose.’ She said. ‘But if this really is the end, there’s no one I’d rather be with.

Jools slipped her hand into Emric’s. Emric looked at her and smiled. Somewhere in the city a clock struck three.

Seconds later the first of the flares hit. But instead of frying them all to a crisp Jools and Emric were treated to the most amazing light show they had ever seen.  Over the next hour the world lit up with colour. Reds and Yellows gave way to blues and purples, flashes of green danced across the sky. It was like an explosion in a paint factory. Jools and Emric just stared open mouthed as the blues and purples, reds and oranges, greens and yellows lit up the valley.

‘This is amazing.’ Jools said. ‘And look.’ She pointed down the hill towards the catacombs. Gradually people were spilling out through the gateway to watch the celestial light show. Oohs and aahs followed by delighted squeals came from the crowd. It was like the fourth of July and New Years Eve all rolled into one.

Emric and Jools sat back in the bench and sighed. ‘You smell of fish.’ Jools said.

‘I know, sorry.’

She rested her head gently on his shoulder. ‘I like fish though.’ She said and smiled.