The End Of The Cucumbers

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When the sun hit its limit and was ready to burst, people got frantic. New cults, mass hysteria and other lovely events filled the news. Every day, there was a new podcast or a new article on how soon the Apocalypse will come and what citizens should do while they're still there. Still breathing.

Suicide rates skyrocketed. Social networks were brimming with groups called "Sail Away Together" or "Perish With Your Loved Ones Without Pain", and the state made no effort to police those. Some individuals made money thanks to the situation, of course. A lot of money.

Salma wasn't following new cult leaders or trying to earn her weight in gold selling tickets to Mars. She belonged to the third category: confused and passive.

Like other people, Salma never expected to live to the end of the world. It was supposed to happen thousands of years later. It was supposed to wait until humans would learn how to cross the universe on their tiny spaceships and were able to run away. It was supposed to… Never happen. Never happen to her.

Salma cried, and then she called all her relatives and all her friends, all on the first day after the announcement. It seemed like every minute could be the last.

The feeling lingered.
Every small action now had meaning. Every stupid detail of her boring, mundane life seemed important.
Salma winced at every strange creaky sound. If the bus stopped too suddenly, her heart started beating erratically and she couldn't calm her breath long after.

Then, she was overcome with sadness. She just couldn't believe the things that were happening. It was so unfair!

After a week of incolable sobs at night and dead staring into the void by day, Salma got tired of impotent desperation.

She needed to do something. She needed to prepare her soul for departure.

Salma went to the fine arts museum where she used to go with her grandparents. She hasn't been there since childhood. The art didn't impress her then; neither did it now.

She bought a big, tasty cake, decorated with intricate flowers and what not. She ate it herself, all on her own in her flat, - every last crumb. She had to run to her bathroom and vomit at 1 a.m. but she didn't regret her decision. She's been dreaming of doing such a thing since childhood, and never before had she dared.

She burned all her winter clothes because even if the sun didn't explode until the first winter month owning pelts was excessive now: cold as a concept stopped existing.

The countries that have been flooded and submerged the years before could confirm: ice was the least stable substance on Earth. And they said it brought the dinosaurs so much trouble. Salma couldn't believe it any more than she could believe that the end of the world was close.

Even with all the information present and available, Salma couldn't wrap her head around the concept of imminent death to all living organisms.

It's not like people weren't dying in hundreds and thousands in the last decades, what with all the forest and steppe fires, hurricanes, and wild ant invasions. Salma was lucky to live in a modern, scientifically enhanced city near mountains - that was the reason she was still alive. She just wished her life could be a little longer.

While she mostly accepted the idea of dying soon, the fear didn't disappear completely. Sometimes, it spiked after dusk, sending Salma spiralling. On such nights, nothing could bring her to calmness. She had to exhaust herself by crying and only then could she fall asleep.

Of course, Salma looked into ways to end her life painlessly. There were a lot of types of medications available; the state even made the pharmaceutical industry lower the prices. Hospitals offered free euthanasia procedures to everyone. But she was still indecisive. What if the sun thought better about it and decided not to explode? What if somehow, by a miracle, they were allowed to live still?