“I’ve never been hungrier,” said Anna.
“Me neither,” said Elizabeth.
Jessica snatched a peach and gobbled it, the juice dribbling down her chin unheeded.
Larry’s pleasure at the women’s reactions was mixed with an uneasy sense that he had once again gone over the top. It took a hug from Anna and a kiss from Nicole to restore his equanimity. “The lasagna and vegetables will take just a few minutes to warm,” he said at last. “Let’s set the table while we wait.”
Soon they were all seated at the table with heaped plates and glasses of wine. For a while the only sounds were the clinking of silverware and the occasional sigh of pleasure. Jessica felt pleasantly woozy after her first ever glass of wine.
After a while, Anna finally laid down her knife and fork. “That was the best meal of my life!” she said. The other women echoed her sentiments and smiled at Larry, who colored, looked away, and murmured thanks.
The meal ended with apple pie and coffee, both declared by the women to be the best they had ever tasted. Larry had by then recovered his poise enough to deflect the compliments. “I just picked a good bakery and brand of coffee,” he smiled.
They sat in contented silence for a couple of minutes, and then Larry said: “Well, this completes the Wheel part of our tour. Let’s go back to Central and rest a bit, and then I’ll show you the rest.”
“The rest? What’s left?”
“Everything below us. The Hexagon.”
As they finished putting things away in the kitchen, Anna asked a question that had been on her mind throughout the meal.
“Larry?”
“Yes?”
“This meal was great, but … we’re going to be here for, like, a long time, aren’t we?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How we are going to feed ourselves for that long?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Nicole said, and the other two nodded.
“It’s a natural question,” Larry said. “The quick answer is that we’re well provisioned. You’ll see for yourself when we continue the tour later this afternoon.”
Back at the Central dome, Larry pushed a button, and a digital cloud wrapped itself around the synthetic midday sun, casting a gentle shade over the room. The women stretched themselves out on the couches after helping themselves to duvets and bolsters from a heap in a corner. Normally, only Elizabeth indulged in siestas, but now the others too felt a delicious lassitude stealing over them. Exhausted from the anxiety of the past few days and the excitement of their trip, and sated from the meal, the women needed only seconds to start dozing.
Larry alone remained awake and vigilant, unable to relax. He walked over to the monitor and checked the gauges and external sensor feeds. Inside the dome, it was warm and snug. Outside, the desert would normally have baked under a blazing sun at this time. Instead, even the earlier dim red glow was gone; it was black as midnight and the thermometer showed minus 110 degrees C. It was as cold, silent, and still as the dark side of the moon.
Larry’s mind raced back to the months of uncertainty and denial that had preceded the final chaos.
CHAPTER NINE
Collision
By early December 2020, the Shroud slowed down to about 50 km/sec as it passed within Jupiter’s orbit. Due to its position relative to the Earth, the dust cloud remained an unimpressive sight to untrained observers. Astronomers, however, noted its speed and trajectory with alarm and awe. That the two bodies would meet was now beyond doubt. Despite that, leaders of major countries were united in their denial of the cloud’s significance. Under pressure, Walcott ceded his directorship at the Webb Observatory to a political appointee who clamped down on news dissemination; other observatories worldwide instituted similar policies. Anxious about jobs and frustrated about the scarcity of essential goods during a global economic slump, the public showed little interest in this celestial event. The mass media followed suit, ridiculing astronomers as scaremongers and relegating stories of the dust cloud to small columns on inside pages.
As if joining this conspiracy of silence, the Shroud made little visual impact when it reached the Earth on June 12, 2021. Since the initial contact was with the thin outer edge of the dust cloud, the naked eye could see nothing save a dull red patch in the night sky just above the horizon in the northern hemisphere. But the patch grew bigger, and by August it became visible in the southern hemisphere as well. An extremely fine, all-pervasive carbon dust caused certain types of machinery and electronic equipment to malfunction. Hospitals reported an unusually high incidence of asthma and other respiratory disorders. Still the public paid little attention. It was only when the patch covered nearly half the night sky that people started taking notice. This was toward the end of November, during a slow time for sports and entertainment, and speculative articles started appearing in the media when the situation changed dramatically. On December 21, 2021, the world experienced a peculiar kind of solar eclipse—a haze between Earth and Sun that gradually thickened over the course of the day. The following morning, the Sun was only dimly visible. The situation didn’t change during the next few days. Temperatures started plunging everywhere.
Pandemonium set in. Schools and offices closed. Factory workers rushed home. The public demanded answers, but all their elected leaders could offer were banal platitudes that reassured no one. Astronomers suddenly found their star in the ascendant. Journalists, conveniently forgetting their earlier ridicule, sought answers from them, but all they got was variations of “we told you so.”
Convening an emergency meeting on Christmas day, the US President, after making a brusque apology, asked Walcott what they should do.
“Do?” said Walcott. “After ignoring me when I warned you, you want me to tell you what to do?”
“I said sorry. Now tell us.”
“Since you’ve left it this late, there’s only one thing left to do.”
“Which is?”
“Pray!”
The President glared at Walcott. “Are you messing with me?” he snarled, his face reddening and hands bunching into fists.
But the crude theatrics that had always cowed his colleagues and political opponents had no effect on Walcott. To him, even the most powerful human was laughably puny compared to the Shroud. “If you’d taken us seriously two years ago, you could’ve built shelters for millions.” Walcott’s voice dripped with contempt and disgust. “But you sat and did nothing—you and the other criminally negligent morons around you. And now it’s too late.”
The President gritted his teeth. “Why is it too late? Okay, you were right about this Shroud thing. I grant you that. But why can’t we do something about it now? If we start construction on a war footing, we should have a thousand, a million shelters ready in a year.”
“In a year?” Walcott laughed grimly. “At the rate at which the Shroud is advancing, it will cause a total solar block in seven days. Not a year. Not even a month. Seven days. A week or two more, and life on the surface will be impossible.”
The President’s eyes grew wide, and he made a visible effort to keep his jaw from dropping. “How long will this …” he groped for an apt word and failed, “this thing last? Weeks? Months?”
“Weeks? Months?” Walcott mocked. “Try ten to twenty years. That’s how long it will take for the sun to reappear.”
“But what are you saying, man?”
“Extinction, that’s what! We’re going extinct. Now do you get what the fuss was all about?”
At these words, the President’s customary arrogance and bluster vanished, and he revealed himself to the others as just another pitiful, frightened human in desperate need of reassurance. But no reassurance came.
It was no longer possible to deny the truth about the dust cloud. Neither the government nor the media could control the message now. The panic and anger that political leaders had tried to evade by hiding the bad news burst out all over the globe. Now free from their political shackles, n
ewspapers and television stations vied with each other to air the direst predictions—even Armageddon couldn’t dampen their lust for attention. But there was nothing anyone could say to reassure the billions who would soon perish. Most people huddled in their freezing homes, but many fled in terror without knowing where to go. Roadways jammed as people grabbed random belongings and rushed helter-skelter in the dwindling sunlight that cast a ghastly orange pall over the planet. Temperatures rapidly dropped into single digits even in the southern hemisphere, where it was technically summer. The combination of the warm ocean and the cold air gave rise to hurricanes of never-before-seen intensity that swept the globe.
Panic-stricken crowds went on a rampage, directing their fury impartially against government offices, security agencies, academic and scientific institutions, religious shrines, and anything else associated with authority or leadership. As public order broke down, hastily-assembled militias prowled the populous cities of the world in search of food and fuel, frequently engaging in bloody clashes with rival groups. In a few days, even the parody of organization offered by militia rule broke down and society was reduced to a collection of rampaging mobs and desperate families. A frenzy of looting, rape, and mayhem ensued in the big cities and population centers, reaching genocidal proportions and going far beyond. Hundreds of millions died in the havoc. Even more froze to death in the sub-Arctic temperatures that now plagued even the hottest places in the world, with the only respite from the bone-chilling cold coming from the countless fires that raged unchecked. But the bloodshed and chaos did not last long. By New Year’s Day 2022, as Larry—after having squandered a week or more in checking and double-checking systems in the Shell—raced against time and temperature to fly his precious human cargo to the shelter, temperatures had fallen below minus 50 degrees even in the warmest regions of the world. Vehicles and machinery stalled, fires died out, and the roving mobs froze to death. Everything came to a standstill.
Human civilization had taken ten thousand years to bloom. In ten days, it wilted and died like a flower in a furnace.
CHAPTER TEN
Honeycomb
Larry kept his bleak thoughts to himself and greeted his companions with a smile when they woke up refreshed from their nap. He fetched a tray of coffee and cookies from the kitchen and passed it around.
“If you keep spoiling us, we’ll think we’re on a holiday, you know,” said Anna.
Larry laughed. “That’s the spirit. Enjoy your coffee, and then we can do the second part of the tour.”
When the women had finished their beverages, Larry handed them an extra layer of clothing and led them to a corner of the workspace near the partition with the sleeping quarters. A switch on the wall opened up a small aperture in the floor. Lights came on inside the opening, revealing a spiral stairway that descended about three meters. At the base of the stairway they found themselves in a triangular space furnished with cabinets marked Office Supplies. It was much colder than the chamber above.
“We’re now in the Central hexagon, or Central hex for short,” said Larry. “It’s right beneath the Central dome. Can you guess why?”
“Insulation,” said Jessica.
“Exactly,” replied Larry. “the air in this room acts as an insulator. It’s just like having a basement in a house—the room above doesn’t get as cold because it doesn’t touch the cold ground.”
“No longer true,” said Jessica. “The ground’s now much warmer than the air outside.”
“You’re right for now, but with time the ground too will get very cold.”
Jessica shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Fair enough.” Larry led them through an opening at the apex of the triangle near the center of the chamber, through which they walked into a circular space about two meters in diameter.
“We’re now at the center of the Central hex,” he said. “Look around!”
In the circular wall around them stood five doors, each with one of their names on it.
“Lovely, we each get our own personal space!” said Anna
“I hope you like it in here. All the rooms are identical. Let’s go into Elizabeth’s and check it out.”
Elizabeth’s room was another triangular section, sparsely furnished with a desk, chair, and a couch. As they entered, a space heater in one corner turned itself on, and the air grew warmer.
“It’s pretty basic, but it might come in handy if you want some time alone,” said Larry. “It uses extra energy, though, so we have to limit ourselves to an hour a day.”
Jessica surveyed the room with approval. “I could use a quiet spot to read.”
“Or meditate,” said Elizabeth.
Anna shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. Too lonely and quiet in here. I’ll stay upstairs.”
“Me too,” said Nicole. “I like being around people.”
“Me too,” said Larry, and thought: We might be the only humans left on Earth. The last thing we need is solitude.
Continuing with the tour, Larry led them through a narrow passage between two partitions that ended in the familiar airlock door. Beyond the door stretched a dimly-lit tunnel that ran for about twenty meters and led via another door into a smaller hexagonal chamber packed with various supplies—tools, chemicals, spare parts, gas cylinders, and the like. Larry told them that they were directly under the Health dome.
“This is where we keep a lot of the stuff we’ll need to keep this place running,” he said.
“But there’s no food, water, or fuel here,” said Jessica.
“Each of them has a hex of its own. Come, let me show you.”
Another door, a stretch of tunnel, and they were in another similarly-shaped chamber. The women looked around in amazement. The room resembled the interior of a superbly stocked but extremely cramped food store. Food cans and packages stacked on shelves covered the entire space except for very narrow aisles. The intensely cold air bit like acid.
“Jessica, here’s where we keep all the food.”
“Lord, what a supply of eatables,” said Anna. “It’s like, you know, our personal gourmet market!”
“Won’t things spoil?” asked Jessica.
“Yes, food will spoil,” said Larry. “It’ll oxidize and dehydrate. It’ll lose flavor. But at these temperatures, I’m hoping all that will happen very slowly. Remember, we are right under the Entry dome. We’ve just turned off the heat to this section. It’s pretty cold here right now, but in a day or two it will be as cold as the outside.”
“Cold enough to preserve even lab specimens forever,” Nicole said.
“Right, so food spoilage is one less thing to worry about. Remember, though, to layer up really well before coming here and leave as quickly as possible.”
Nicole nodded. “More than a minute or two here, and you’re risking hypothermia, frostbite, or worse.”
The next hexagon was equally packed from ceiling to floor, but with fuel rather than food. Most of the containers stocked diesel, but a few had kerosene, gasoline, or octane. The cold was intense.
“This is where we keep our backup fuel for heating, in case something goes wrong with the power plant.”
“The diesel I understand, but what’re the gasoline and octane for?” asked Anna. “Are you planning to take off without telling us?”
“No, I did that once already. I’m not going to make a habit of it.”
“You know I was only joking, Larry, I’d never …”
“I know,” Larry smiled. “Okay, now a quiz question—which dome lies above us?”
“Air,” replied Jessica promptly, and Larry nodded. “Yes, our air purifier is chugging away right above us.”
“How did you figure that out so quickly?” marveled Elizabeth, mussing Jessica’s hair. “I gave up orienting myself after the first corridor.”
“It’s like you’ve been here before,” Larry told Jessica. “Remarkable!”
“It’s nothing,” she said, flushing uncomfortably. “Jus
t kept track.”
“Okay, here’s a tougher one. What do you think we’ll find in the next hexagon?”
“More supplies?” asked Anna.
“Nope,” said Jessica. “Water.”
“Right again!” said Larry. “That’s amazing. How did you guess that?” The others looked at Jessica with astonishment.
“Simple elimination,” she explained. “We’ve already seen where food, fuel, and supplies are kept. We haven’t seen water. We’ve already visited hexagons under Health, Entry, and Air. That leaves three: Geo, Eco, and Food. Water can’t be under Geo, because the geothermal well is there. It has to be under Eco or Food. Plus, there’s one thing we haven’t seen. Guess what.”
“Well, maybe a facility for waste disposal,” Anna said after some thought.
“Exactly. No hab can be without one. It wouldn’t be under the kitchen—too gross—so it has to be under Eco. Perhaps it gets composted and fed to plants. The only hex left is under Food, next door.”
“Oh, wow, simply awesome! I could never have figured all that out. Could you?” Anna asked Nicole and Elizabeth.
“Me, dear?” said Elizabeth. “I’m lucky if I can find my way to the washroom!”
“Same here,” said Nicole. “We’re lucky to have a prodigy in the family.”
“Indeed,” said Larry. “It’s a relief to know that Jessica can run this place if anything should happen to me.”
“Don’t be silly!” Jessica said, extremely pleased with the praise, yet as always perversely annoyed with herself for her susceptibility to it, and illogically vexed with the others for her confused emotions. Her face went red, and it took a hug from Elizabeth to calm her internal tumult.
The water hex was very different from the ones they had previously visited. The visitors were prepared for vast aisles filled with containers of water, but what they saw made them gasp in astonishment. The water store turned out to be nothing but a large, nearly circular frozen pond almost right in the center of the hex. An apparatus that looked like a water heater spouted a thick pipe that rose up and passed through the ceiling into the kitchen above.
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