Flash Fiction Friday - Countdown

The Council has spoken

Countdown

When the clock first appeared in the sky, no one knew what it was. The theories were all over the place, though. Some believed it to be a promotion for an upcoming movie, while crazier theories suggested that it was some form of mass hallucination. The truth was delivered soon enough.

The clock itself was massive in scale, so much so that it created a partial eclipse of the sun during the time it hovered in the sky. The younger generation couldn’t figure it out, as the clock face was old school as opposed to digital. The hands started out moving normally, but they began to pick up pace over time. The world watched and wondered, and then the message arrived.

A quiet hum spread across the globe, followed by a voice that spoke calmly but with genuine intent. It said, “Citizens of Earth, you have been seen and judged by the Council. Your behaviors do not merit inclusion in our pact, but we believe that a better race can be cultivated. Stand by for future messages.”

Governments pointed the fingers at one another, each claiming that their enemies were responsible for the clock and the message. The planet moved to the brink of war, which was when the clock hands began to move faster, to the point of being little more than a blur. The next message removed the threat of war, as it became clear that self-annihilation was no longer necessary.

“Citizens of Earth, your end date has been moved up by the Council. We wished to see how you would react to our first message. You did not behave well, although it was as expected. There will be no future messages. You are now in countdown mode.”

There was no panic, no looting, no fingers pointed. Instead, the human race fell into a period of grim acceptance. Life returned to normal, although all eyes would flick to the clock in the sky, wondering when it would pass the final judgement. After all, there was no end time given, thus no way to know when it would expire.

Days stretched into weeks into months, with people beginning to believe that the current generation would be spared. Hope can be a terrible thing, though, as the rug is all too often pulled out from under the feet. The rug pull came one year to the day from the final message.

This time, there were no words, but rather a haunting siren that echoed across the world. It acted like a call to prayer, as even the most damaged soul begged for forgiveness and a place in whatever heaven would accept them.

The siren ended, and as its final echoes diminished, the clock exploded in a blinding ball of hellfire. The shockwaves spread quickly, turning everything to dust in a matter of seconds. When it was over, silence ruled the ruined earth.

It was the first day of real peace since the human race took control.

For a decade, the dust settled. The once blue/green earth was now painted in shades of grey, but not for long. Shoots began to poke through the dust, and the waters cleared, sparkling under the sun and casting the reflection of the new clock in the sky. This one moved slowly, so slowly that it looked broken.

Before long, things began to emerge from the oceans, crawling on to dry land to live and thrive. The Council watched it all, waiting for the new race to emerge. Would this lot recover the sins of previous models, or would they become sentient beings? This was the twentieth iteration, but the Council remained hopeful that this one would be the winner.