The Uncanny Apocalypse

This story is written for Daniel.

I don’t think anybody saw it coming. Well, people knew that the world would end, but I don’t think they expected it to happen the way it did. Bluntly put it was because of a damn rubber band. Not one of the normal rubber bands that are fun to play with and flick at people. No. It was one of those tiny rubber bands that orthodontists give, er, gave their patients to put on their braces.

As the rubber band was falling to the ground nobody though anything of it. It was an invisible event, but when the tiny rubber circle touched pavement it was the most noticeable thing in the world.

“I HAVE HAD IT!” Gaia roared in every language, dialect, and accent as she held the rubber band. “I’VE HAD TO PUT UP WITH YOU HUMANS LONGER THAN I CAN REMEMBER! YOU AND YOUR WARS! YOUR POACHING! AND YOU POLLUTION! POLLUTION! WELL NO MORE! I HAVE GIVEN YOU CHANCE AFTER CHANCE TO CHANGE YOUR WAYS AND CLEAN UP YOUR MESS! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! IF YOU DON’T FIX THINGS IN NINETY DAYS I WILL DELIGHT IN ENDING YOU ALL!

Almost immediately after Gaia’s outburst a conference of world leaders was held to decide what to do about her threat.

“We cannot allow this eco-terrorist to bully us into her demands!” a president argued.

“No! We must obey,” another president said. “This is the human race we’re talking about!”

“We save the human race by fighting for it!” the first president said.

“I agree!” a prime minister said. “We need to protect our way of life!”

“No!” a queen said. “We need to comply! It is the only way!”

The conference exploded with agreements and disagreements. Yes’s clashed with no’s. Alliances were made and lines were drawn. In the end those that pushed for war told rest to just stay out of their way.

In the following weeks both parties got to work. The citizens of the world who believed that they should heed Gaia’s command planted trees. They cleaned up streets and parks. They established cleaner forms of energy and recycled. They walked, they biked, they became vegetarians. Meanwhile the citizens of the world who wanted to fight Gaia prepared. They stockpiled weapons, they trained soldiers, they set up base camps.

“We strike on Day Ninety!” they said. “When she comes we’ll have a big surprise waiting for her!”

Time passed. The air was cleaner, steel stocks were up, and the ninetieth day crept up over the horizon.

The Earth let out a low rumble as Gaia emerged.

“Well done!” she said. “You have adequately corrected your mistakes. You have kept your part of the agreement so I will keep mine. But know this, though you did well in cleaning up you must be careful to keep it clean. Be careful not to fall outside of my good graces once more.”

It was at that moment that the armies and navies and air forces of the world attacked. Bombs and missiles and bullets and torpedoes all flew towards Gaia with such speed that she didn’t have time to react. The bright flashing in the sky indicated a direct hit. Gaia was dead. And with that the Earth began to fade away like seeds from a dandelion floating in the breeze. Before they knew it people saw the hard ground being replaced with the cold blackness of space. The air was gone and everyone died.

Now there are several morals to this story. The most obvious and obnoxious one is: “Don’t fire bombs and missiles at the Greek Titaness of the Earth.” Another moral reads: “War is silly.” But perhaps the most important one of all is: “Don’t throw small rubber bands on the street.”