Sunspot

The pulse was formed in the coolest portion of the Sun at exactly 7:14:32 AM EST, on a Sunday. Eight minutes later, the third piece of stardust away would never be the same.

In Houston, TX, NASA heard the pulse from the ground. It sounded like silence and static. They read the readings, knowing that it came from the sun, that it emanated from the largest sunspot on the gas ball. And lo, they were afraid.

In Montana, no one even looked up.

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the Merchant Marine ship, “Gladys” tugged away, the electrical systems running perfectly well. The generators in the bowels of the ship chugged away, manufacturing ozone and little blue sparks. The captain noticed that the compass was working fine. There were no problems whatsoever.

In Gaza, a man launched a rocket into a hotel in the mid-afternoon. It hit its mark with stunning accuracy, killing twelve and injuring forty-three. The news didn’t cover it; they never covered the struggle of his people anymore. The hotel was his test target. The next target, launching in the next few days was to be the bureau of CNN. Then they would cover the story. They would have to. He checked his watch, smiling because the battery hadn’t died yet. He’d had the watch for three years and the battery hadn’t died.

In Antarctica, penguins cawed and chirped, making the noises indicative of penguins. They knew nothing of magnets and nothing of electricity. They knew krill.

The International Space Station recorded the pulse first and reported it to Houston. By the time the crew on the Space Station realized what was about to happen, it was already three days too late. The crew would never get home. Three minutes after they recorded the pulse, they said their goodbyes and opened up a plastic pouch of Moet Chandon. The crew ate dehydrated peas, roast beef and champagne. This was the last meal of the crew on the International Space Station.

Five minutes after the pulse was formed, it blew past Venus and was well on its way to the Planet Earth. If it had been conscious, the pulse would have noticed the gaseous planet and the miracle of the toxic clouds. But the clouds were not toxic to the pulse. The tiny glowing planet meant nothing to the pulse, because the pulse had no mind. If it had, the pulse might have considered the ramifications of its actions; considered what was about to happen. But this did not happen. Self-realization occurs only on the third planet from the Sun. So do morals.

The Murphys sat at the breakfast table, listening to the radio news. The story was about the budget cuts in the federal government. Mr. Murphy cursed under his breath and talked about the crooks in Washington. Mrs. Murphy rolled her eyes. The girls didn’t understand a thing their father was saying. The radio declared the latest hit from Hannah Montana. The girls dropped their spoons in their cereal and squealed. Mr. Murphy sighed and went to the bathroom.

At 7:21:13 AM EST, Thomas pulled a squeegee over the giant MTV LED television screen in Times Square. He watched the scantily clad women writhe in faux-ecstasy. He watched idiots run into a brick wall in a red Radio Flyer wagon, resulting in the loss of dental work. Thomas sighs that this is his life, this is what his degree is worth. In just over a minute, his degree would be worth less.

At 7:21:57, the pulse his the space station. In half an hour, the crew would be dead. The people on Earth would never mourn them.

The reporter looked at her teleprompter. IN BRITNEY NEWS, THE ESTATE OF THE LATE SINGER HAS ANNOUNCED THAT HER CHILDREN WILL RECEIVE NONE OF HER ASSETS. THIS COMES AFTER HER EX-HUSBAND FILED A SUIT AGAINST THE ESTATE FOR WRONGFUL DEATH. HER CHILDREN ARE SEVEN AND FIVE. In 45 seconds, the screen would be blank and the story would go unheard.

At 7:22:32 AM EST on a Sunday, the pulse slammed into the world with all the force of a pin dropping and the world went dark.

“Gladys” stalled out in just above the Marianas Trench. CNN’s building in Gaza shut down completely. The radio went dead in the Murphys’ house, in the middle of the new song, as did the radio station. The DJ was stunned at the darkening of his booth. He stumbled through the room, filled with equipment, banging his knees and head on everything he had in there.

Times Square went dead. The cars all stopped, all the taxis went silent, even the horns petered to nothing. The MTV screen went dark and Thomas looked around, in a slight panic, wondering for a moment if it was his fault. He looked to his right and noticed that the ABC ticker had gone black as well. The rest of the city looked as though it had just stopped and gone to sleep. A thought crawled into the back of Thomas’ head.

What if the city that never sleeps finally decided to take a nap?

Half a second later, the pulse passed through The Earth and on towards Mars. If the pulse were aware, and it most certainly was not that, the pulse would have smiled in that way that it smiles, knowing that it had just done a job well done. It had wiped out every electrical system on earth and wreaked havoc on the electromagnetic field that wrapped around the world.

If it were aware, it would have felt as though it were an angel of retribution, of death. Death to power. Death to electricity.

Death to life as they knew it.

But the Pulse was not aware. It certainly was not aware. It would be terrifying if it were.