The stars are dying
The stars are dying.
We know this now.
One day, the astronomers that study the farthest reaches of space noticed that there were fewer bright points than there used to be. Light takes millions of years to travel those unfathomable distances, so it must have been millions of years ago that those fiery giants had dimmed and withered away.
This remained a passing curiosity for all but those that study stars for a living. The world had its problems to concern itself with, and these galaxy spanning events did not halt the mailman from delivering the bills.
But for the few that cared, this was a game changing, life altering finding.
Anna was one of them. She had grown up with the milky way in her nighttime backyard, each constellation a trusted friend that came and went with the seasons. Her dad had taught her to find Mars and Jupiter on a clear night, and the thrill of seeing that far into the unending space had never quite left her. How could it? To see the vastness of the universe, with your feet still planted firmly on the dewy grass. It had induced a sense of vertigo in her.
And now the stars were disappearing. And no one knew why.
At first, the scientists blamed faulty data, and then their instruments, and then each other. Historical records were combed to verify their findings, and suddenly star charts by Galileo and Copernicus were relevant again. It wasn’t just the ones at the far reaches of space that were disappearing, or the ones at the end of their life cycles. Young bright stars much closer were blinking off, like faulty light bulbs.
Doomsday cults were the earliest to jump on these findings. “The end of the world is nigh. We have been telling you, and now you see that oblivion has come for us!” When Sirius A, the brightest star in the night sky, turned off without warning, people paid attention, and a sense of low grade panic and general unease permeated the world. Would the sun be next?
Anna was sitting at a bar a week before Christmas, nursing a warm drink. It was a cozy place, and a regular spot for her work friends to meet after a day of puzzling over mathematical models of star formation and senescence. She sat there, surrounded by people and friendly conversation and for a few moments felt utterly and heart wrenchingly alone. The world was going to end, and despite the best efforts of the scientists it did not seem likely they would have any warning of when. One day the sun could just turn off and they would all die. Humanity had no ability to change this, and no ability to leave and find another star. What was the point of anything then?
She looked up in tears, startled by the suddenness of these thoughts and saw an old man with kind eyes watching her. He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. He beckoned her to come join him at the bar. The openness of his gesture and the warmth of his face made her accept.
“Are you ok young lady?” She sat down and took a few breaths. “I thought I was, but suddenly I am not so sure anymore.”
“I see.” He called the bartender over, who took her order, and they sat in silence for a few moments while he made her an old fashioned. She sipped the drink, and let it warm her until she felt somewhat better.
“May I ask, what has so upset you?”
She looked at him, planning to give a noncommittal answer and was astonished to find she recognized him.
“You are Charles Deglass! The head of the European astrophysics consortium. You were the first person to discover that the stars were disappearing.”
“There were many involved in that discovery, but yes I am Charles. Pleasure to meet you ….”
“Anna. I work in the astrophysics division here as a junior researcher.”
“Anna. Pleasure to meet you.”
A moment of silence sat between them, while she stared open mouthed at him, and then realized what she was doing, blushed and looked away.
“So Anna”, he said, choosing to ignore her awkwardness. “What is troubling you?”
She saw that he was sincere in his question, and answered “I am not sure myself. I thought I was enjoying myself and immersed in my work. This question about the stars is probably the most exciting thing that has happened in our field, and everyone is racing to find answers. But..” She faltered.
“But” he finished, “What is the point of it all if our sun can wink off any moment?”
“Yes. Precisely” Anna said.
He smiled at her, and ordered himself another drink.
“Isn’t the point that we may be able to find a solution that could potentially save humanity?” asked Charles.
“Is that likely?” he asked.
He laughed, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “No, I don’t believe so”. Seeing Anna’s face fall, he stopped, “I am sorry Anna, I do not mean any disrespect, but I do find this whole situation humorous for my own reasons.”
She swirled her drink, and sipped at it. “It’s not the fear of dying necessarily that upsets me. As we get older, we all have to face that fear. My dad passed away a few years ago, and I saw how he faced it. He was sad to leave me, but besides that he seemed utterly at peace. I asked him how he was doing so well, and his answer then had greatly comforted me.”
Charles Deglass gave her his full attention.
“We may end, but our memories live on. The things we have touched and loved in this world keep going. The feelings we have experienced, remain there to be experienced by countless others. The satisfaction of a good run in brisk weather, of the coziness of Christmas time surrounded by food, family and their warmth. The scent of the sea, the taste of good chocolate, and on and on. Those feelings you love, those sensations you miss; you can rest assured that there will be many many others who will also love them.” She paused.
“He told me this was his secret to immortality, and it gave me great relief to know he felt that way.”
Deglass thought about this for a moment. “So the secret to immortality is our shared sense of being, of our common human experiences. Am I stating that right?”
“That is what my father thought, and it seemed to give him true peace at the end” said Anna.
“And what do you believe?” he asked.
Anna played with her drink for a bit. What did she believe? That the world was a cold place, and things mostly happened by chance mixed in with some effort? That there was no such thing as Karma or shared cosmic conscience and that life could be very lonely indeed for some people. Maybe. Anna might tell her these things from time to time, but she wasn’t sure if she had completely turned to the cynic’s side.
“To be honest, I am not quite sure what I believe. Is there really a simple answer to this? Humanity has been searching for a sense of purpose and meaning since our very beginnings”.
“In that, you are correct Anna”. He seemed to consider for a second, and his genial amusement had been replaced by a more thoughtful demeanor.
“But imagine for a moment, that there really was a straightforward answer to this question. How fundamentally different would our lives be?” He asked.
“I would imagine very!” replied Anna.
“Would it?” He countered. “We are currently in the midst of a possible world ending crisis. Something that should unite all of us, and make our priorities clear. Do we see that happening?”
Anna considered. “No, I do not. We are still bridled in our politics and our differences. The attention span of humanity wavered for a moment on the crisis, and then moved on. I guess the bills still needed to be paid” she added bitterly.
“Exactly”. Deglass cheered and finished his drink.
A clear punctuation mark to their conversation.
That night, as she took the bus back home, she realized she had never asked him what he believed. And he had not offered.
Her thoughts drifted back to her father, and his genuine serenity when he had passed. She felt the tears come, but willed them away. Maybe he truly had the right idea.
She looked around and allowed the scattered lives surrounding her to filter in.
The tired mom picking up her daughter from after school ballet, the elderly couple chatting merrily in the back. A few high school kids glued to their phones. The bus driver, somehow disparate from the machinery but adept at turning the bus to his will.
The joys of life belonged to them all. A million billion tiny flashes of light on the grand stage of the universe, insignificant to all but the most keen observer.
But was that really the fair measure of a life?
Being observed does not create our reality.
But being present does.
She was granted a moment of clarity. We all wish to be noticed. To seek our place in our own private universes, and find our people to love and desire.
All of that is human.
Our lives are worthy on their own merit.
With every choice we make, conscious or not we create our story. And if the world suddenly snuffs out, and us with it?
Well there our story comes to an end, and somewhere else another will begin.
