Eight Minutes

We failed to stop the killer of the Sun.

Despite the months of forewarning, preparation and redundancy planning, all for nought. We had missed.

Colleagues around me were on their phones with their loved ones, some weeping, others grief stricken at our combined failure. No point in keeping secret anymore.

Beyond the window, what should have been a pre-dawn sky instead was a bright lit day. People would know something's wrong.

We had calculated that the sun's death would make itself known to us in eight minutes.

That was seven minutes and fifty-five seconds ago.

I looked east.

Oblivion.