Singularity Soon

19. Destroy She Said

On the morning of the last day of Rajiv's life (Singularity Minus Three) golden sunlight shone through the curtains of his den. His alarm clock made a giant foghorn sound like in certain film scenes, but he was already up.

He had dreamt he had done it already and it was all over. When he woke, he had briefly wondered if he was stuck in a time loop.

One by one, the items on his to-do list popped out of existence. The mountain shrank down to nothing, leaving only a red button at the bottom.

By now the preparations had filled the floors of his house with mounds of trash. He felt a moment of pride at all he had accomplished, then other dramatic emotions.

They left the easiest tasks for last. He put on a lawn service uniform, and took a final pill to stabilize his mood and help him focus. No way he could have pulled this off with his normal personality. Certainly not without massive help and digital handholding.

The clock had run out. There was a moment of vertigo in the garage when he realized he would never see the inside of his house again.

The van was parked in front, already facing the street. He placed the grenade in the designated gap between the driver's seat and the sealed plastic tub, double-checked the bracing brackets in the cargo space, and shut the rear doors. He strolled to the driver's seat like a cowboy at high noon, his shadow looking purposeful.

The sun was very bright, not a hint of the blackness approaching behind the photons of the last day.

The plastic smell of the new van blended with unidentifiable chemicals from the back. Some gunk was already starting to leak through the seals with a soft hissing sound.

It felt like he was leaving on a fantastic vacation. The most amazing thing was that nothing about this had been difficult. They had assured him that nothing would ever be difficult again.

He pulled out slowly while signaling, and turned onto the empty exurban road. All traffic laws had to be obeyed. Looking in the side mirror, he watched his home disappear behind some trees.

For a while, nothing stirred inside his house. The interior would be as quiet as it ever got. There was poetry in the sound of the wind blowing and rustling leaves of the overgrown bushes.

The Human Experience was an assembly line of endless suffering, and peace could only be found in empty places like this. Vast numbers of people worldwide faced horrors worse than death, some FAR worse. Escape had been made illegal or impossible for them.

He kept telling himself so many people would be utterly delighted if only they knew what was to come. They might be granted a few days of relief, a surcease from terror; the most joyous human emotion. Many more would have been utterly terrified of course.

And then . . . it will make the Big Bang seem like a whispering ASMR, Rajiv had overheard an overenthusiastic nerd say.

Despite the heavy mass in the back of the van, it was a smooth ride. The straightforward segments of the forty minute drive (taking side roads where possible) barely entered his memory. He would have been unable to recall much of the trip even if he had survived. Rajiv's perceptions of the passing fast food places, convenience stores, auto shops, were as ephemeral as the reflected sparks of sunlight.

For driving music he had considered playing "The Final Countdown" or "Firestarter", but instead chose the more calming "Destroy She Said" (De Donatis/Tyas remix).

Ahead he saw the traffic lights of the downtown intersection, cars lining up in the turn lanes.

It finally hit him when he made the turn (for some reason, such insights often happen in liminal places like hallways or corners).