[Yami] The Unsung End
Day 2,465, 06:38
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Published in Canada 
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by
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by King Trito Fisher
I wrote this in a hurry, around 30 minutes-1 hour. I'm not sure I followed all the rules but WHATEVS!
THE UNSUNG END
He was sitting there, staring off into the distance, with a blank expression on his face. Needless to say, I was surprised. We were sitting in the best bar on the Atlantic Coast, Chuck’s Fine Liquor and Grill, with a couple of good drinks at our disposal. It was supposed to be our night out, a time where we can talk, exchange a couple jokes, and enjoy ourselves. So far, it was turning into a nightmare. In my opinion, this wasn’t the time to philosophize; it was the time to have fun. I tried to wake him up,
“Hey Joe, what are you doing? Are you afraid your wife doesn’t approve of our little night out? Wake up and enjoy, she doesn’t care!”
This was met with no reply. I was starting to worry but then I figured, it was 9:17 and I had 43 more minutes to enjoy myself. If my friend couldn’t join, the least I could do is to enjoy a good drink and play some pool by myself. So I cried to the bartender,
“Hey bartender, get me a whisky on the rocks, make it quick too!”
“Yes sir, I’ll get you that whisky, anything for your thinker friend there?”
“No, and don’t call him that! There’s another bar 50 feet away, he may have a blank face but he still has feelings you know!”
The bartender flashed a look of disgust my way, so I went over to play some pool. All the tables were occupied, so I took my drink and decided to watch the games. I overheard a crazy discussion.
“I heard that tomorrow is the end of the world, how ‘bout that! We should enjoy ourselves and place a brown bag on our heads, that might make “the end” easier.”
“No, that wouldn’t work.” Replied his partner, “You should go to church and pray, that’s what I would do. For all we know, them Mayas might’ve been right.” A chuckle, “Them damn environmentalists think we goin’ to turn this here planet upside down! I tell you, it’s goin’ to be the Lord who done it!”
“Naw, come on, what’s the difference between 4 horsemen and a damn calendar?”
I then started to wonder if this was the reason for my friend’s apparent sadness, so I went back to the bar, took a big sip of whisky, and asked Joe the question.
“Joe, you can’t possibly be worried about those idiotic conspiracy theories!”
Joe worked in government; I believe he was the chief advisor to the Chief of Staff or some sort of paper pusher. Myself, I was a scientist for the Department of Defense, nothing much, just some research in the proper trajectory of missiles. Good pay though, much better than underfunded NASA. Maybe Joe, really believed those crack heads in Mexico, that’s what they talked about on the news. You know how television is now; it’s full of fantasy and murders… I saw his mouth beginning to open up and he yawned. Drunken, he spoke with a slur.
“Gary, you’re my best friend, I always believed that I could trust you with anything. I’ll just tell you outright, the world is going to end, not because of the Mayan calendar, not because of any damn horsemen, but because the President has his finger on the Button, the Button that sends 1000 nuclear, chemical, and conventional missiles straight for the Russians’ capital.”
“That can’t be true; there haven’t been any hostilities! The Cold War ended two decades ago, what could we have done to deserve this fate!” I choked on my drink, “Is there any way we can stop this! This can’t be, I don’t want to die, please tell me Joe, you’re chief advisor to the Chief of Staff!”
He replied, “We caught the enemy infiltrating our government through legal aids, counsels, secretaries, even some Representatives were found to be enemy spies. There is no way now to stop the President from launching the missiles, unless you change the programming in the rockets.”
I called for another whisky and drank it quick. The hazel liquid was comforting, but didn’t change the situation at all. I thought about what Joe had said, in that split-second I figured that it would be possible to change the programming of the rockets so that they would land in the Atlantic.
“It’s possible!” I exclaimed. “All I have to do is change the initial speed a bit and tilt the direction of the rocket! Do you think they’ll call me in to prepare the rocket though? I don’t have the best service record you know.”
“I think I can recommend you to the Chief of Staff, he may have no influence on the final decision, but he gets to choose who carries it out.”
“Great, see you tomorrow at 6:00 a.m., we need to get it done quick. I hope you don’t get a hangover!”
“I won’t, trust me, see you tomorrow Joe and good luck, you’re going to need it!”
I’m single so unlike Joe, I could wake up any time. I set the alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. The next morning I was awake with the sound of the blaring radio I set my alarm clock to play, this time it was a news reporter with a chilling message.
“Good morning America, I’m Phoebe Sergeant and here are the top stories today: the President has made an announcement that foreign infiltrators were found in top government positions… In lighter news, it appears that the Mayan Calendar has nothing to do with the end of the world as I’m still talking. Hopefully it won’t end anytime soon, ha-ha. Next on “Internet Smarts”, those cats you see on the internet, well it appears that they-“
I slammed the snooze button. It was 5:30 and I had 30 minutes to get dressed to save the world. I quickly ran to my closet and put on some jeans, a shirt, and a hoodie. It was relatively warm outside, a 67⁰ in November, so I didn’t put on my usual jacket. I walked outside and stepped into my small car. Then I left my Washington D.C. suburb and headed to my usual workplace hoping that Joe would succeed in getting me placed in the project. I went at 20 miles above the speed limit, but I have to admit, at 5:30 there aren’t many traffic cops going after violators of traffic law. I arrived at my designated parking space and walked on over to the elevator. To my surprise I saw Joe.
“What are you doing here Joe? How did your wife let you wake up so early?”
He replied, “I didn’t use an alarm clock. Instead, I used my military training for something and woke up, by myself, at the right time.” With anger, “Let’s get back on topic now!”
“Ok, did you manage to persuade the Chief of Staff?” Joe seemed pleased with himself when he proudly said,
“I got through that thick skull and managed it. You got to go downstairs and start working on that rocket, the world depends on you! As for me, I’m going to do my job and “advise” that idiot so he thinks nothing’s wrong.”
“Why are you so mad at him? What’d he do?” He yelled,
“That idiot never listens to me. He won a bet and is in a good mood, but not good enough to stop the destruction of half the planet!”
Joe’s floor came up, “Good luck for me and you I guess.”
“If you can’t think of anything else to say, I get you. If anybody finds about this, we’ll be dead!”
He left and I was alone in the elevator. It was a large building and I still had 12 floors to go down. I thought about what he said and I realized that I had more than a few regrets. I went on, however. The least that could happen to me would be to die, either by execution or from radiation poisoning.
It was my floor, the elevator had an eerie silence, I was about to die. I stepped forward and started my mission. My office computer had a direct link to the computer that controlled the rocket. I sat down in front of my desk, typed in my log-in, and waited for it to boot. I waited to see if Joe was right. The screen went blank and then showed the trajectory of the missiles.
“Well, here it goes.” I whispered. I changed the initial speed of the ICBM and moved its direction a degree. I stood up, took a sip of whisky from the flask I keep in my desk, and ran out the hallway.
I drove home the same speed I had left it and when I reached my apartment I quickly turned on the TV and changed the channel to the news. The same stuff: marriages, cats, and the fiscal crisis. An investigative congressional committee had convicted the spies and sentenced them to death. All was well; the lies told the public had never been revealed. I had saved the world. I went to Chuck’s and got drunk, I then returned home knowing that the next morning I would be going to the Icelandic embassy some subway stops away.
They granted my request for political asylum, though I didn’t explain why I needed asylum very well. When I had reached Iceland I called my friend,
“Did they suspect anything?” I asked.
“No, but it was a great decision to get political asylum in Iceland. The weather may be less than comfortable, but they accept anybody.”
“So, how about a visit to my cottage, it’s real nice, only a plane trip away!”
“That would be nice, I’ll see you soon Gary, stay safe.” He said sincerely.
“I will Joe, make sure that “Chief” of Staff doesn’t find out about my being a “traitor”, he’ll be on me for eternity!”
“Ok.”
I ended the call, relaxed in my armchair, and took a great swig from a half empty bottle of whisky.
AND THAT'S IT!
😃
THE UNSUNG END
He was sitting there, staring off into the distance, with a blank expression on his face. Needless to say, I was surprised. We were sitting in the best bar on the Atlantic Coast, Chuck’s Fine Liquor and Grill, with a couple of good drinks at our disposal. It was supposed to be our night out, a time where we can talk, exchange a couple jokes, and enjoy ourselves. So far, it was turning into a nightmare. In my opinion, this wasn’t the time to philosophize; it was the time to have fun. I tried to wake him up,
“Hey Joe, what are you doing? Are you afraid your wife doesn’t approve of our little night out? Wake up and enjoy, she doesn’t care!”
This was met with no reply. I was starting to worry but then I figured, it was 9:17 and I had 43 more minutes to enjoy myself. If my friend couldn’t join, the least I could do is to enjoy a good drink and play some pool by myself. So I cried to the bartender,
“Hey bartender, get me a whisky on the rocks, make it quick too!”
“Yes sir, I’ll get you that whisky, anything for your thinker friend there?”
“No, and don’t call him that! There’s another bar 50 feet away, he may have a blank face but he still has feelings you know!”
The bartender flashed a look of disgust my way, so I went over to play some pool. All the tables were occupied, so I took my drink and decided to watch the games. I overheard a crazy discussion.
“I heard that tomorrow is the end of the world, how ‘bout that! We should enjoy ourselves and place a brown bag on our heads, that might make “the end” easier.”
“No, that wouldn’t work.” Replied his partner, “You should go to church and pray, that’s what I would do. For all we know, them Mayas might’ve been right.” A chuckle, “Them damn environmentalists think we goin’ to turn this here planet upside down! I tell you, it’s goin’ to be the Lord who done it!”
“Naw, come on, what’s the difference between 4 horsemen and a damn calendar?”
I then started to wonder if this was the reason for my friend’s apparent sadness, so I went back to the bar, took a big sip of whisky, and asked Joe the question.
“Joe, you can’t possibly be worried about those idiotic conspiracy theories!”
Joe worked in government; I believe he was the chief advisor to the Chief of Staff or some sort of paper pusher. Myself, I was a scientist for the Department of Defense, nothing much, just some research in the proper trajectory of missiles. Good pay though, much better than underfunded NASA. Maybe Joe, really believed those crack heads in Mexico, that’s what they talked about on the news. You know how television is now; it’s full of fantasy and murders… I saw his mouth beginning to open up and he yawned. Drunken, he spoke with a slur.
“Gary, you’re my best friend, I always believed that I could trust you with anything. I’ll just tell you outright, the world is going to end, not because of the Mayan calendar, not because of any damn horsemen, but because the President has his finger on the Button, the Button that sends 1000 nuclear, chemical, and conventional missiles straight for the Russians’ capital.”
“That can’t be true; there haven’t been any hostilities! The Cold War ended two decades ago, what could we have done to deserve this fate!” I choked on my drink, “Is there any way we can stop this! This can’t be, I don’t want to die, please tell me Joe, you’re chief advisor to the Chief of Staff!”
He replied, “We caught the enemy infiltrating our government through legal aids, counsels, secretaries, even some Representatives were found to be enemy spies. There is no way now to stop the President from launching the missiles, unless you change the programming in the rockets.”
I called for another whisky and drank it quick. The hazel liquid was comforting, but didn’t change the situation at all. I thought about what Joe had said, in that split-second I figured that it would be possible to change the programming of the rockets so that they would land in the Atlantic.
“It’s possible!” I exclaimed. “All I have to do is change the initial speed a bit and tilt the direction of the rocket! Do you think they’ll call me in to prepare the rocket though? I don’t have the best service record you know.”
“I think I can recommend you to the Chief of Staff, he may have no influence on the final decision, but he gets to choose who carries it out.”
“Great, see you tomorrow at 6:00 a.m., we need to get it done quick. I hope you don’t get a hangover!”
“I won’t, trust me, see you tomorrow Joe and good luck, you’re going to need it!”
I’m single so unlike Joe, I could wake up any time. I set the alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. The next morning I was awake with the sound of the blaring radio I set my alarm clock to play, this time it was a news reporter with a chilling message.
“Good morning America, I’m Phoebe Sergeant and here are the top stories today: the President has made an announcement that foreign infiltrators were found in top government positions… In lighter news, it appears that the Mayan Calendar has nothing to do with the end of the world as I’m still talking. Hopefully it won’t end anytime soon, ha-ha. Next on “Internet Smarts”, those cats you see on the internet, well it appears that they-“
I slammed the snooze button. It was 5:30 and I had 30 minutes to get dressed to save the world. I quickly ran to my closet and put on some jeans, a shirt, and a hoodie. It was relatively warm outside, a 67⁰ in November, so I didn’t put on my usual jacket. I walked outside and stepped into my small car. Then I left my Washington D.C. suburb and headed to my usual workplace hoping that Joe would succeed in getting me placed in the project. I went at 20 miles above the speed limit, but I have to admit, at 5:30 there aren’t many traffic cops going after violators of traffic law. I arrived at my designated parking space and walked on over to the elevator. To my surprise I saw Joe.
“What are you doing here Joe? How did your wife let you wake up so early?”
He replied, “I didn’t use an alarm clock. Instead, I used my military training for something and woke up, by myself, at the right time.” With anger, “Let’s get back on topic now!”
“Ok, did you manage to persuade the Chief of Staff?” Joe seemed pleased with himself when he proudly said,
“I got through that thick skull and managed it. You got to go downstairs and start working on that rocket, the world depends on you! As for me, I’m going to do my job and “advise” that idiot so he thinks nothing’s wrong.”
“Why are you so mad at him? What’d he do?” He yelled,
“That idiot never listens to me. He won a bet and is in a good mood, but not good enough to stop the destruction of half the planet!”
Joe’s floor came up, “Good luck for me and you I guess.”
“If you can’t think of anything else to say, I get you. If anybody finds about this, we’ll be dead!”
He left and I was alone in the elevator. It was a large building and I still had 12 floors to go down. I thought about what he said and I realized that I had more than a few regrets. I went on, however. The least that could happen to me would be to die, either by execution or from radiation poisoning.
It was my floor, the elevator had an eerie silence, I was about to die. I stepped forward and started my mission. My office computer had a direct link to the computer that controlled the rocket. I sat down in front of my desk, typed in my log-in, and waited for it to boot. I waited to see if Joe was right. The screen went blank and then showed the trajectory of the missiles.
“Well, here it goes.” I whispered. I changed the initial speed of the ICBM and moved its direction a degree. I stood up, took a sip of whisky from the flask I keep in my desk, and ran out the hallway.
I drove home the same speed I had left it and when I reached my apartment I quickly turned on the TV and changed the channel to the news. The same stuff: marriages, cats, and the fiscal crisis. An investigative congressional committee had convicted the spies and sentenced them to death. All was well; the lies told the public had never been revealed. I had saved the world. I went to Chuck’s and got drunk, I then returned home knowing that the next morning I would be going to the Icelandic embassy some subway stops away.
They granted my request for political asylum, though I didn’t explain why I needed asylum very well. When I had reached Iceland I called my friend,
“Did they suspect anything?” I asked.
“No, but it was a great decision to get political asylum in Iceland. The weather may be less than comfortable, but they accept anybody.”
“So, how about a visit to my cottage, it’s real nice, only a plane trip away!”
“That would be nice, I’ll see you soon Gary, stay safe.” He said sincerely.
“I will Joe, make sure that “Chief” of Staff doesn’t find out about my being a “traitor”, he’ll be on me for eternity!”
“Ok.”
I ended the call, relaxed in my armchair, and took a great swig from a half empty bottle of whisky.
AND THAT'S IT!
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The competition hasn't started yet 😁'
Oh well, WHATEVS!
XD
Yami? Yummy