The End - Visions of Apocalypse

The cardinals in his entourage gasped at the impropriety, but Pope Leo silenced them and went on. “‘This God person,’ as you put it, is the Creator of all things, even unto the beginning of time.”

“First I’m hearing of it.”

“We have His own words,” the Pope said, gesturing to one of his cardinals, who hurriedly produced a Bible from the folds of his robes. The Pope took the book, opened it, and read aloud. “‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.’”

“Well listen to him going on,” Mother Earth huffed, a small puff of steam rising from the ground. “Created me, did he?”

“In six days. And on the seventh, He rested,” the Pope intoned.

“Ooh, now you’re just trying to flatter me! Six days, as if I’m that young!”

“Nevertheless, so it is written.”

“Well it’s obvious I should be talking to this God then, not you,” Mother Earth said.

“He speaks through His word,” the Pope said, holding up the Bible.

“Yes, but I’ve never been much of a reader. So much simpler if I could just talk to him.”

“We speak to Him through prayer.”

“And what’s that then?”

“Just speak to Him.”

“All right, but I don’t see the point in talking to someone who isn’t there.” There was a slight rumble. “Hello? God?” The last word echoed through the Rift, and across the crowd, who looked up expectantly. Only silence replied. “I say, Mr. God?” A breeze stirred, but still no response came. “Well, now I feel a bit silly.”

“He moves in mysterious ways,” the Pope said, his smile wavering slightly. “He doesn’t always reply in a manner we understand.”

“No, I’m sorry, love, but I need to talk to someone who’ll talk back, and not through some old book.”

The Pope’s shoulders fell. He turned and whispered briefly with his cardinals. Then they all dropped to their knees and began to pray.

“All right, but I don’t see what good that’ll do. And how about you?” she said to Dr. Chapman. “You someone who thinks he’s too big for his britches or talks to imaginary people?”

“Um, no, ma’am,” Dr. Chapman said nervously. “I just know a lot about geology. Which I’m not quite sure this is about anymore. Still, here I am.”

“Oh, but you’re a funny one,” Mother Earth said her tone lightening. “I might just like you. So, what’s that you said? Geology?”

“It’s the study of… well, of you, actually.”

“Ooh, little old me?” she delighted. “Go on, go on!”

“Oh. Right, well, you see, I basically study what you’re made of, where you came from, where you’re going. All done very discreetly and with the utmost respect, of course” he added hurriedly.

“Believe me, the way you’re all constantly digging into me, I wouldn’t have noticed. But the courtesy is appreciated.” She paused. “So how did you become a geologist?”

“Four years undergraduate study at Oxford, four more in the graduate program at Cambridge, and extensive childhood experience digging up my mother’s garden.”

“Ha!” Mother Earth said, a peal of thunder punctuating her laugh. “So you did it all on your own then? Nobody elected you? No invisible man gave you answers?”

Chapman shrugged. “I had the support of family and friends, and the guidance of some great professors, but for the most part, yes. All me.”

“Excellent! You’ll do nicely.”

“I will?” Chapman said. “For what, exactly?”

“I’d like you to tell everyone that I’m leaving.”

It took a few moments for the words to sink in. The crowd went silent, the praying ceased, and every news anchor stopped talking as they mulled this over. Even the papal entourage halted their prayers in shock. “Leaving?” Chapman finally managed.

“Yes. Retiring, actually. There’s a lovely spot just a few million miles off of Alpha Centauri I’ve been keeping my eye on. Esther moved there last year and just won’t stop going on about it.” Her voice bubbled with cheeriness, and daisies spontaneously bloomed all around the edge of the Rift. “Oh, it’ll be just lovely, I know it. So it’s off to Alpha Centauri for me.”

The Pope and his cardinals began their praying once more, this time joined by those in the crowd who were among the faithful. The rest of the onlookers burst into thousands of simultaneous conversations, while every news network in attendance scrambled to describe what was happening with as many adjectives as they could muster.

“But… that’s not possible,” Chapman said. “The gravitational pull of the Sun… everything from Copernicus to Newton to Hawking…”

“No,” Mother Earth said, considering, “I don’t think I spoke to any of those chaps at the agency. It was this rather nice gas giant, what was his name…”

“So, wait, you can just leave orbit whenever you like?” Chapman asked in disbelief.

“Oh, of course not, dearie. There’s a dreadful amount of paperwork, you wouldn’t believe –”

“Excuse me,” Chapman said, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but if you’re leaving, what happens to us? What are we supposed to do?”

“Well, you’ll just go wherever it is you’ve been flying in those wonderful little spaceships of yours, I expect.”

“The moon?” Chapman asked.