This is How The World Ends

It started with the night clubs. One Friday night, after a long day at work, the whole world collectively decided to just stay home. Why go out, when you could order a take away and watch some comedy panel shows with the family? A bottle of wine and a good curry sounded so much better than getting dressed in their glad rags and hitting the town.

The bouncers stood behind red velvet ropes, the music thumping. No rowdy rugby fans downing pints in the bars, no scantily clad students ordering double Aftershocks and spewing Pepto Bismol fountains in the powder rooms. Come 2 am the streets were silent, no singing and fighting, no pissing on the war memorials or dancing in the fountains. Nothing.

On Saturday it was the zoos and museums that suffered. The otters swam and played in their watery habitats, completely oblivious to the lack of crowds. The rabbits went unmolested in the petting zoo. The ponies had a day off from giving rides. Nobody needed to clean sticky fingerprints off the museum exhibits, or check bags for dangerous nail files and water bottles.

By Sunday the beaches were empty, holiday makers staying away despite the heatwave. Nobody could be bothered washing sand from their feet, or re-applying suncream every 45 minutes. The swimming pools sat empty, the gyms cancelled all classes due to lack of interest. Even the shops were abandoned, despite the enticing sales and BOGOF deals. People ordered their groceries online and wore their pajamas all day long.

The work week came around and everyone called in sick. It didn’t matter, because the phones went unanswered – their bosses also pulling a sickie. Banks didn’t open, the mail was undelivered. Trash festered by the sides of the road in abandoned garbage cans.

By Wednesday the Presidents and Prime Ministers were beginning to panic. What was wrong with the population – what had caused this sudden malaise? Was it a virus perhaps, some bug that spread apathy and lethargy instead of sore throats and fevers? But how could it have taken hold everywhere at once, the whole world just shut down?

Aliens seemed suddenly plausible. An invasion of body snatchers, maybe, keeping the people prisoner in their homes while they plundered the world of its resources. Except there had been no unusual activity in the skies, no UFO sightings or radar anomalies. Or if there were, nobody knew it – the astronomers and air traffic controllers all eating crisps and playing video games in their bedrooms.

Laws were forced through parliament, unanimously since nobody showed up for the vote. It was illegal not to attend work – punishable by imprisonment and a hefty fine. It made no difference – no police came knocking for the dissidents, no judges heard court cases.

At first people spoke about it on social media, chatting to online friends about the mysterious phenomenon. They promised to meet up and made plans for picnics and drinks nights… but nobody showed up. It seemed the entire planet had just given up, plunged into a deep desire for isolation. They stopped posting photos of their dinners, sharing cute pictures of their children or spreading memes. The internet fell silent. Even Pornhub had no viewers.

People ran out of food, and thought about going to the store for more. ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ they told themselves. ‘I wasn’t that hungry, anyhow.’ They found spaces away from their families, Dads locking themselves in the downstairs loo, teenagers skulking in their rooms.

“It’s an extreme case of international introversion,” Dr. Singh told his wife. The psychiatrist took out the gold heart-shaped locket he used for hypnosis, and told her to watch it moving back and forth. He would try to cure her of her deep sense of ‘Meh’. Halfway through he found himself dropping the necklace, unable to concentrate on it at all. “I think I’ll go have a nap,” he told her. But she was already asleep.

By the following Tuesday it was all over. Mankind, with all their art and philosophies and warmongering ways were finished. Rabbits hopped down grocery store aisles, deer frolicked in car parks. Foxes feasted on the pungent remains of humanity, who had finally bored themselves to death.