The Year 2020
Mount Everest
In the distance came a tearing roar.
Huge ice sheets slid from the dark peaks, plunging into the surging sea.
The violent ice sea surged tumultuously, as if extending to the very end of the world. Then, from the world's end, wind blew, carrying the scent of ashes and dust.
The world suddenly felt so small.
The towering Sky Dome seemed to press down, turning into pure white iron. Through its massive cracks, one could glimpse the gradually dimming stars in the universe.
It was like lamps melting away into the darkness after losing power.
Between the vast heavens and earth, it seemed as if everything had disappeared, leaving behind only this highest narrow platform on Earth, and the makeshift work cabin erected upon it.
A fishing rod was set up at the edge of the platform, casting the line into the sea, with the bobber bobbing in the murky waters.
The bored angler, donning a felt hat, lay on his folding chair.
As if to pass the time, he even brought an old chessboard, disregarding the continuous crumbling noises in the distance and casually moving the pieces around.
As if having endured long years, it was hard to gather a complete set of black and white pieces anymore. The "population" had dwindled, with only the "King" and "Bishop" remaining, both too damaged and cracked from the weathering of time.
Even the chessboard was missing a large corner, with black and white squares twisted and mingling into a chaotic grey.
Surprisingly, no matter how much the earth shook, those chess pieces stood steadfastly in their own territories, without the slightest wobble.
"President, NASA has sent a message—"
The assistant, wearing thick glasses, came out of the cabin, carrying the last of the luggage, "—The fourth settlement is completed, the New York Stock Exchange has finished uploading. They're about to evacuate and wished us success with our work."
"They should've cleared out earlier."
The President shook his head unhappily, "Those folks at the Jurisdiction Bureau are such a hassle, always dragging their feet, can't even manage a simple move."
"We have to save backups. After 'Heaven' fell, data transfer can only rely on hard drives."
"Don't be naïve, kid," scoffed the President. "Those guys just enjoy the sensation of beating the clock, as if they're so professional and punctual. Tch, ten minutes earlier won't kill anyone."
"Ahahaha."
The assistant laughed awkwardly, said nothing more, and edged closer. He then saw the computer next to the chessboard, with only two recently opened tabs searching 'how to fish in the Himalayas', and the rest of the screen showing a live satellite cloud image.
Satellites from the old NASA, enduring against all odds, still stubbornly maintained their mission. They meticulously transmitted back the views they saw from space.
Unfortunately, the screen no longer displayed the beautiful stars of yesteryear, but a sight riddled with countless holes.
Numerous messy cyclones covered the entire azure sky, and beneath that layer of thick or sparse typhoon clouds were revealed patches after patches of startling scars.
And at the same time, a massive crack slowly emerged on the satellite image, a line of crimson spreading from a scale of thousands of kilometers, rapidly extending, pulling at the surrounding parched land and the dark grey sea, and finally whipping up hurricanes that tore another gash in the atmosphere.
"Was that an earthquake?"
The assistant looked astonished, moving closer, "Wow, that's impressive. I didn't expect it to be so spectacular."
The President looked up and instantly understood, "It's a geothermal eruption. The core has begun to cool, and the third wave of tremors is releasing from the continental plates of North America and South America. If left unchecked, it'll probably end in about sixty years… Look, New York, it's sunk into the sea."
"What a pity, I haven't seen the Statue of Liberty yet."
"I have."
The President withdrew his gaze, "Actually, it's nothing special…"
Suddenly, a roar came from afar, as if something bright stirred in the depths of the ocean, the crimson red tumbling in the darkness, reflecting a painful burning light from beneath the Earth's crust.
Burning Wind blew from the ends of the sea, bringing with it gray dust and white mist, as if it covered the entire world.
As if the whole world had been boiled by the sea.
"It's really like teppanyaki," the President suddenly said.
"Hm?"
"Teppanyaki, didn't I take you to eat it last time? The flavor was pretty good."
The President seemed tired, lying in the chair, covering his face with a hat, as if preparing to take a nap. His voice was as soft as if he was muttering in his sleep, "An old friend from Yingzhou once told me that there are two kinds of teppanyaki, Kanto and Kansai. What most people have is the Kanto type, which is simple and convenient, but the real delight is the flavor of Kansai.
"Because it only starts with a thin layer of oil on the hotplate, and as long as the heat is sufficient, the natural oils of the ingredients themselves can cook the food. It's said that this is the only way to savor the natural freshness and original taste of the ingredients…"
The assistant was silent for a moment, "That sounds pretty cruel."
"Yes, but aren't humans inherently cruel creatures?" The President responded, "If eating is required to survive, then we eat—this is the simplest truth, the evil rooted in human nature.
"At first they devoured lightning and fire, burned the wilderness, excavated coal mines, then drilled for oil, and when oil wasn't enough, they coveted fission… Until now, even as this world dies, they won't let go.
"It has been out of control since our ancestors added the Neanderthals to their diet."
The assistant turned around and looked at the man on the lounge chair, but his face was obscured by the hat, unrecognizable, uncertain whether the expression in his eyes was one of Pieta or the familiar scorn and mockery he knew so well.
In the prolonged silence, the sky grew darker, the once pure white sky gradually became overcast until at last, the phantom light behind the clouds slowly contracted and faded away…
"Is the sun about to go out too?"
"Yes, the power of the Pillar of Source is beginning to retract."
"The storm is picking up again, huh?"