Apocalyptic fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Stars -- Fiction
He turned toward the blackboard, meditating a diagram in the way
that was usual to him. “What was that about ‘lived in vain’?”
whispered one student to another. “Listen,” said the other, nodding
toward the lecturer.
And presently they began to understand.
That night the star rose later, for its proper eastward motion had
carried it some way across Leo toward Virgo, and its brightness was
so great that the sky became a luminous blue as it rose, and every
star and planet was hidden, save only Jupiter near the zenith,
Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, and the pointers of the Bear. It was
white and beautiful. In many parts of the world that night a pallid
halo encircled it about. It was perceptibly larger; in the clear
refractive sky of the tropics it seemed as if it were nearly a
quarter of the size of the moon. The frost was still on the ground
in England, but the world was as brightly lit as if it were
midsummer moonlight. One could see to read quite ordinary print by
that cold clear light, and in the cities the lamps burnt yellow and
wan.
And everywhere the world was awake that night, and throughout
Christendom a somber murmur hung in the keen air over the
countryside like the buzzing of the bees in the heather, and this
murmurous tumult grew to a clangor in the cities. It was the tolling
of the bells in a million belfry towers and steeples, summoning the
people to sleep no more, to sin no more, but to gather in their
churches and pray. And overhead, growing larger and brighter, as the
earth rolled on its way and the night passed, rose the dazzling
star.
And the streets and houses were alight in all the cities, the
shipyards glared, and whatever roads led to high country were lit
and crowded all night long. And in all the seas about the civilized
lands ships with throbbing engines, and ships with bellying sails,
crowded with men and living creatures, were standing out to ocean
and the north. For already the warning of the master mathematician
had been telegraphed over the world, and translated into a hundred
tongues. The new planet and Neptune, locked in a fiery embrace, were
whirling headlong, ever faster and faster, toward the sun. Already
every second this blazing mass flew a hundred miles, and every
second its terrific velocity increased. As it flew its course, it
must pass a hundred million of miles wide of the earth and scarcely
affect it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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