Instructions for Saving the World

For the first few seconds, there was only a sound, like the fizz of a firecracker as it nears absolution. Then, a pillar of color erupted into the sky in an imitation of the aurora borealis, illuminating the field around it. Finally, there was darkness. Only the moon and its children of stars illuminated the grassy hill in the middle of East Texas. A series of “moos” and stampeding hooves filled the night, growing softer and quieter as the cattle retreated to a safe distance.

A man in a tweed jacket stood in the midst of burnt symbols and rings. He held his breath until his lungs burned as the grass, arms outstretched toward the heavens, eyes shut tighter than he had ever held them shut, the only sound (other than the cows) being his racing heart.

Minute crept to minute, hour to hour. Slowly, the man’s arms dropped to his side, his heartbeat calmed to a steady, healthy rhythm. The man opened his eyes, only to see all the heavenly bodies in their regular positions.

Cursing, he glanced down at his watch, which lit the creases in his face, full of worry and frustration. He shook it and listened for its “tick tick tick,” completely aware that it was a smartwatch and therefore entirely digital.

It did inform him that he had been standing there in the field for at least three hours.

He pulled a sheet of paper and read through the instructions, periodically checking to see if he had followed them correctly. He began to pace around the circle, now a smoldering ring of grass, checking to make sure he had drawn it correctly. It was a near perfect match.

He felt his shoulders sag, his heart become heavy with dread as the concept that he had not been the problem filled him. Every part of this task, he had completed to the letter. If the craftsman was not at fault, the tools were.

“MoooooooooOOOOOO!” One of the herd interrupted, a great red bull staring at the man as it approached. The light from the ritual may have scared them off at first but they appeared to have gained their nerve and returned to investigate. Normally, the man would have found that intimidating, but tonight, there was no time available for intrusions.

“I don’t understand,” he said to no one in particular, eyes returning to the page. The bull stopped its approach but continued to watch him, flicking its tail in an agitated manner. “I did everything right. The markings are perfect; I enunciated; I timed it all to the second. What went wrong?” He rubbed his eyes then looked back at the bull. “A rhetorical question, I assure you.”

The bull said nothing, as they often do. Still, there was some comfort that the last being he would speak to would not interrupt him.

“I don't suppose,” he began, folding his paper into quarters, “that you have any idea what kind of year it’s been?”

Silence.

“Of course you don’t,” the man grumbled. “Lucky bastard. Honestly, I don't mean that derogatively. You get to live your life in an open field, eating to your heart's content, shitting everywhere, doing whatever, whoever, and at the end of the day, you don't have to question your worth, your value to society, your reality. You just go along, being a cow. Living your best cow life.”

A sniff from the bull and several plop plops, as if to confirm that this was indeed how it lived its life. It then huffed and stamped its hoof, as though something in the man’s speech was incorrect. The man raised his eyebrow for a second become coming to a “conclusion.”

“Right, bull, whatever. I guess I should be more careful assigning gender, seeing as that’s the world I live in. Not that you care, I assume. Though I guess I shouldn’t do that either. Then I’d be making you a donkey.” He laughed at his ill attempt at humor. Then, looking about, he selected a patch of grass outside the ember circle and plopped down, defeated. The bull took another sniff then moved closer, stopping beyond what the man could reach.

“It’s all for naught,” he continued after a minute of silence, during which the bull had begun to eat some of the untouched grass. “We royally fucked it up. Didn’t listen, no, when they told us how much time we had left. When they stood on their podiums and preached into the microphones, and told us exactly what to do to stop it all. Gave us a step by step list of ways to stop the inevitable. And we laughed and laughed but now...now it's all gone tits up. And I kinda feel that it’s what we deserve.”

“MOOOO.”

“Nah, not you, lad. You were just an easy meal for us, and for that I am sorry. Not that my apology is gonna mean anything in…” he looked at his watch again. “Five or so minutes.” He cringed at the thought before letting a smile creep onto his face. “You know, I should be angry. I should be livid with everyone and the way they ignored it all. But I’m not. Not really. I can’t be, because, you know, I was just as bad about it. I could have done more but I didn’t. I just yelled and screamed online and hid in my room under my covers while the world got sick and died. And now, here I am, with some bootleg instructions to do something that is supposed to set it all right. And I fuck that up too.”

The man chuckled and shook his head until it drooped downward and his chin rested against his chest. The bull flicked its ear knocking a fly out of its orbit.

“I mean, I dunno. I tried a little. As much as the next person. I thought about my words before I said them, I tried to do the little things, promote the right groups and whatnot. I cared about others. That should have been enough.” He knew it wasn’t and the bull’s continued silence confirmed that.

“They predicted it down to the minute, you know,” the man said, glancing at his watch on his wrist but not actually looking at the time. “The bloody minute and we laughed at it. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it should have been generic like the month or even the year. But they got it down to the second when it would all come apart. And then they gave us the instructions to do something about it. Instructions to save the planet from utter destruction. It wasn't hard, either. Nothing nefarious. Just go to an open spot, draw a symbol or two, say the magic words, then enjoy the lightshow and the rest of your life. Congratulations, you saved the fucking world. And it didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He chuckled to himself, waving the little slip of paper like a white flag, as the irony of it all began to fill every portion of his body. “We are so stupid.”

He stopped waving the paper and held it out for the bull to see. He pulled a lighter from his back pocket, the same lighter he had used to burn the runes earlier that night. The paper caught fire immediately and blossomed into a radiant blue and purple, before dissipating into the night sky. Both the man and the bull watched, the light reflecting in their pupils.

“Don’t even know what we were trying to prevent,” the man whispered. “Just that it would be the end.” He looked at the watch again as the numbers crept closer and closer to the moment the world had been warned about. “Non-specifics probably didn’t help.”

The final seconds crept away from the watch, and the man pulled it gently from his wrist. “Bloody useless,” he scoffed and tossed it away, putting the lighter back into his pocket. “It did make quite the spectacle. Pretty and all. I wonder, you know, if after all this the naysayers had it right. After all this time, it’s been some horrible practical jo…”

“It is time,” the bull spoke in a deep and commanding voice, “For you to leave my field, human.”

The man stared at the beast whose eyes reflected his face and that of the moon, whose horns and hooves had taken on a light blue and purple glow, runes etched into patterns along its hide.

“Well,” the man said, wiping his face, glancing at the last remaining fragment of paper which danced in the dark. “I guess it fucking worked.