The Final Tale of Chicken Little

The future was dead. It died a long, slow, and painful death, but it was over now.

Dr. Dixie Hubbard stared upward, studying the sky, thinking about the old story of Chicken Little. It had been her childhood favorite.

Except that, now, the sky was falling. In a sense...

Shifting her gaze to the streets below, she observed crowds rushing about, pursuing jobs and passions and life. They didn't know what she knew. Nobody outside this secure building had been warned. No need to cause fear, to create panic.

She hated that edict, but had no choice but to follow. The building had been locked long ago, to comings and goings. She was as much a prisoner to this place as she was to the doomed planet.

But the sky was falling. With her trained eye, she stared up, able now to see with the naked eye what untrained observers from the streets wouldn't: the hole was increasing even as she watched.

"Get inside, Dixie! It's time!"

She ignored her co-worker's tone, almost excited in his rush. "One more minute," she insisted. She intentionally spoke slowly, determined to relish each remaining moment.

"We have to get underground!"

"One more minute. Just one."

It wouldn't work. She knew that. She'd made the plans, engineered the project. She'd spent half her life preparing for this moment, this ending.

But it wouldn't work. She knew it.

Hope became a rabid anima when it was cornered ... when it was obvious hope could no longer exist.

"We have to go!" Martin, who'd worked beside her for two decades, grabbed her arm, pulling at her as a mother might drag at an unruly toddler. "Now, Dix!"

She looked up again and Martin followed her gaze. He pulled harder, and then dropped her arm. "Fourteen minutes until lock-down," he warned. "We need you to help rebuild. But we won't wait an extra second. We cannot endanger the survival of the 7000 Chosen for one woman!

"Understood." She listened to him retreating, aware of the seconds ticking by in her head. She feltlike crying; she felt like laughing. She wished she didn't feel at all.

Rebuild what? she wanted to ask his retreating back. How were they going to rebuild a world that was as burned up as a cigarette butt, as dead as the mummy of Tutankhamun? No... The idea was folly. She'd known it for years. When the Earth baked, it would be finished. For all of them. For everything. The destruction would be complete. The devastation would be as deep and vast as eternity.

She hadn't been trying to save a remnant for all these past decades -- She'd worked to save the world.

She'd failed.

It was vanity, she mused. The effort couldn't be accomplished in one lifetime. It should have started with the first inkling that things were going wrong. But now, generations later, the end would finally come.

There was no stopping it.

She glanced down into the street again and squinted. Somewhere down there, her daughter lived her life. Dixie had fought like a caged animal which, she supposed, she had becoe once the doors were sealed. No amount of begging, threats, anger or rebellion had swayed the decision of the government to allow families to enter the complex. Now, all these years later, Dixie received news reports weekly of Camilla’s life, but she had no contact, no interaction.

But in fourteen minutes, she supposed it wouldn’t matter.

All those people ... millions more. They would know soon. Once it was too late, they'd understand everything...

The sky opened, showering strange brilliant light down on her. It bore into her eyes and fried her skin. From below, she heard screams of pain and terror. The air ripped from her lungs like a garment torn in a horrific fight.

The estimated time was off.

She wondered if the team had time to close the Ark's doors.