Pull Up A Chair For The End Of The World

It was hot today, much hotter than usual for this time of the year, but that was to be expected.

Frank climbed through the attic window and hauled himself, his deck chair, and his cooler on to the roof of his house. He wanted to make the most of today, and was wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, a buttoned shirt with the top three buttons undone, and one of those brim hats that fishermen wear (whatever you call them).

He was in a good mood and was humming a little tune, something that had been stuck in his head since yesterday.

His humming broke in to a whistle from time to time, and he threw in the occasional click of his fingers to keep it fresh. It was such an ear worm, as they call it. Usually that would drive him crazy and make him want to scream to drown out the song, or put a bullet in his head. But today was different. There was no need for a bullet.

Yes, today it would all end. The death of the sun.

This is how the news explained it: the sun, like all stars, is essentially a big energy power plant, with hydrogen as its fuel. As it has burned away over the billions of years since it formed, it has been using up that hydrogen bit by bit. And nothing lasts forever.

Scientists had it down that the sun was about 4.5 billion years old, with around 5.5 billion years of fuel reserves remaining. It was middle aged, past its prime, but there was still plenty of life in the old girl yet.

Ha ha ha, how wrong they were.

Frank cracked open a cold one — a beer that is — and took a bit chug. So refreshing on a hot day.

Now, contrary to how you might think the sun would die, it isn’t like a light bulb that flickers and goes out. Don’t get me wrong, if that happened, it would be the end all the same, but no, the death of a star is a bit more dramatic than that.

As it grows old and the hydrogen (as well as back up helium) reserves reach empty, it will begin to expand. The core will contract, and the outer layers will become less bright, expand right out in to the solar system, cool some more, and slowly turn in to a red giant.

But when we say the sun will cool, that is worth quantifying. Frank is topping up his tan in his final moments because although the sun is cooler by its own lofty standards, by the limits of human skin and all life on Earth, it is still extremely hot. The fact that it is getting closer and closer as it expands heats things up as well, of course.

As the sun expands in to the solar system, it will gobble up Mercury, Venus and yes, even Earth, while Mars, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, and all those other things in between and beyond, they’ll just widen their orbits slightly and carry on their merry way. The death of Earth and everything living on it to them is just a minor inconvenience.

Obviously given the great distance between the sun and the Earth, and given the constraints of the speed of light, there is a point, the news report said, where the sun’s expansion approaches and we can see it coming before the end.

“It won’t be instant,” the news report said, after repeating the exact science behind our doom. “We’ll have just long enough to let out one final scream.”

Frank took the final mouthful of beer from his can, crunched it in his hands and shook his head. Damn press can’t help themselves, he thought, still humming his tune. He’d had time to pull up a front row seat, kick back and relax with a beer. Why spend your final moments screaming? Speaking of which, he glanced at his cooler: was it worth cracking open a second can before the end came? He hesitated, glanced at his watch, then, slapped his leg and shook his head.

“Can’t take it with me I suppose!” he shouted to himself, cracking it open and gobbling down half in one gulp as the sky brightened to an almost white and sweet sweet relief finally came and took away everything and everyone.

“The sun will blow up tomorrow,” the news report had said in a fantastically inappropriate last ditch attempt at making a pun. “Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow.”

Frank had been whistling that tune ever since. Such an ear worm.

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