2020 CE
Mount Everest
A tearing roar came from afar.
A massive sheet of ice slid down from the black mountain peak and plunged into the surging sea.
The violent Ice Sea churned, its waves soaring thousands of feet high, as though they stretched all the way to the end of the world. Then wind blew in from the end of the world, carrying the scent of ash and dust.
The world suddenly became so small.
The towering sky seemed to press down, turning into pure white iron. Through the enormous fissures overhead, one could glimpse the stars in the universe gradually dimming and going out.
Like lamps melting into darkness one by one after the power had gone out.
It seemed that nothing remained between heaven and earth. All that was left was this narrow platform at the highest point in the world, and the makeshift work cabin beside it.
A fishing rod had been set up at the edge of the platform, its line cast into the sea, the float bobbing in the murky water.
Wearing a felt hat, the bored fisherman lay back in his folding chair.
As though merely passing the time, he had even brought along an old chessboard. Ignoring the continuous thunderous collapses in the distance, he casually toyed with the Chess Pieces on it.
As if they had endured countless years, neither the black nor white side had enough pieces left to make a full set. Their ranks were depleted, and the few surviving Kings and bishops were incomplete, covered in cracks from the weathering of time.
Even a large corner of the chessboard was missing. The black and white squares had warped and blended together, forming vast patches of chaotic gray.
Yet surprisingly, no matter how violently the earth shook, those Chess Pieces stood firmly upon their own territory, without the slightest tremor.
"Chairman, NASA sent a message—"
The assistant in thick glasses came out of the cabin, carrying the last of the luggage. "—The fourth settlement has been completed. The New York Stock Exchange has finished uploading. They're evacuating, and they wished us success with our work."
"They should've fucked off long ago."
The chairman shook his head irritably. "Those people from the Unified Bureau are such a pain. Always dragging their feet. They can't even move house efficiently."
"They need to preserve backups. After 'Heaven' fell, data transfers could only rely on hard drives."
"Don't be silly, kid." The chairman scoffed. "Those people just enjoy the feeling of punching the clock. Like they're so professional and punctual. Tch, leaving ten minutes early won't kill anyone."
"Ahaha."
The assistant laughed awkwardly and said no more. When he moved closer, he saw the computer tossed beside the chessboard. Aside from two pages that had just searched for "how to fish in the Himalayas," the screen displayed only a real-time satellite cloud map.
The satellite from Old NASA still stubbornly maintained its mission even now, meticulously transmitting back the view from space.
Unfortunately, what appeared on the screen was no longer the beautiful planet of old.
It was riddled with wounds.
Countless chaotic cyclones blanketed the entire azure globe, and beneath those typhoon clouds—some dense, some thin—lay patches upon patches of horrifying burns.
At the same time, a massive fissure slowly emerged on the satellite map. A line of crimson spread across thousands of kilometers, rapidly extending and widening, dragging the withered yellow continents and black-gray oceans around it. Finally, it stirred up hurricanes and tore another opening in the atmosphere.
"That's an earthquake, isn't it?"
The assistant leaned closer, exclaiming in astonishment, "That's incredible. I never thought it would be so spectacular."
The chairman glanced up, then understood at once. "It's a geothermal eruption. After the Earth's core began cooling, the third wave of tremors started releasing through the continental plates of North and South America. If left alone, it'll probably end in sixty years... Look, New York has sunk into the sea."
"What a pity. I never got to see the Statue of Liberty."
"I have."
The chairman withdrew his gaze. "It wasn't much, really..."
A roar suddenly came from afar. Something seemed to light up in the depths of the ocean, crimson tumbling through the blackness and reflecting the painful searing glow from beneath the crust.
A foehn wind blew from the end of the sea, carrying gray dust and white mist, as though it had covered the entire world.
As though the whole world had been boiled by seawater.
"It really looks like teppanyaki," the chairman suddenly said.
"Hm?"
"Teppanyaki. Didn't I take you out for it last time? It was pretty tasty."
The chairman seemed sleepy. He lay back in his chair and covered his face with his hat, as though preparing to take a nap. His voice softened like a dream-murmur. "A friend from Yingzhou once told me that teppanyaki is actually divided into Kanto and Kansai styles. What people usually eat is the Kanto kind—convenient and simple—but the truly exquisite kind is Kansai style.
"Because at the beginning, it only spreads a very thin layer of oil over the griddle. As long as the temperature is high enough, the ingredients' own fat cooks them through. They say that's the only way to taste their natural freshness and original flavor..."
The assistant fell silent for a moment. "That sounds cruel."
"Yes, but aren't humans themselves cruel creatures?" the chairman asked. "If eating is what lets you survive, then you eat. That's the simplest truth, the evil rooted in human nature.
"At first, we devoured thunder and fire, burned the wilderness, dug coal mines, then pumped oil. When oil was no longer enough, we coveted fission... And now, even as this world is dying, we still won't let go.
"Ever since our ancestors put Neanderthals on the menu, it has been unstoppable."
The assistant turned back to look at the man in the reclining chair. Yet the hat hid his face, and he could not tell whether the man's gaze held compassion or the sarcasm and mockery he had always known.
During the long silence, the sky grew darker and darker. The once pure-white heavens gradually dimmed, until at last, that phantom glow behind the clouds slowly contracted and vanished...
"Is the sun about to go out too?"
"Yes. The power of the Pillar of Source has begun to contract."
"The storm is picking up again."
"Mm."
"Will it stop this time?"
"Who knows?" The chairman slowly rose and put his hat back on. "No matter how it changes, this is no longer land where humanity can survive... Haven't you already seen it? Other than all these wounds and pains, it has nothing left."
He paused and murmured softly, "This is our last supper."
The last cigarette was lit.
The flame flickered as a wisp of smoke curled upward.
On the computer screen, every satellite signal gradually went dark. In their place appeared one strange emblem after another. They moved across the black screen like gods traversing the face of their abyss, carrying indescribable coldness and majesty.
Utopia, online.
Continuance Institute, online.
Unified Bureau, online.
Stone Kiln Society, Bronze Hand, Graveyard of the Unreturning...
Separated by the black screen and their respective emblems, countless gazes seemed to fall upon this final piece of land, welcoming the arrival of the final moment.
All the guests had taken their seats, waiting for the final curtain to rise.
Staring at that incomplete chessboard.
The assistant swallowed nervously and carefully watched the pocket watch in his hand. The instant the hour and minute hands overlapped, he jerked his head up as though shocked and reported, "The Pillar of Divine Marrow has completed preheating."
"...Wait!"
The chairman suddenly frowned, as though listening closely.
Not only the assistant—even the emblems on the screen seemed to grow solemn, as if facing a great enemy.
Then that fellow suddenly yanked the fishing rod up. He actually pulled something out of the sea. It looked furry, rather like a cat, but it had a fish-like tail. It was indescribably strange.
"Aha, after waiting two hours, I finally got something. Who said Baidu Baike wasn't reliable?" The chairman beamed as he examined his "catch." "What a coincidence, little thing! But no matter how I look at you, you don't seem much like a fish. Can you be eaten?"
"..."
Everyone remained silent.
They really did not want to deal with him.
Hauled up by the fishing rod, the little creature opened its mouth and cried out twice in displeasure. It stretched out its two tiny forepaws to scratch his face, but he casually stuffed it into the fish basket.
Once it was back in the water, it settled down, rolled over, and could not be bothered to move.
"Enough." The chairman stuffed the fishing rod and bucket into the assistant's arms, then hoisted his chair onto his shoulder. "Let's go."
He reached out and removed the white rook from the chessboard.
With that motion, it was as though the final lights had gone out.
The sun high beyond the heavens disappeared.
Everything in the world sank into darkness.
Once the light was gone, no wind could be heard either. For apart from them, everything had come to an abrupt halt, as though time itself had frozen.
The universe departed first. A slender hand appeared from nowhere and removed the black queen—Utopia withdrew the Foundation of Star Essence—thus the primordial darkness faded, countless stars vanished completely, and only meaningless emptiness remained.
Next came the remnants of the ocean. The Continuance Institute took away the proof of existence, and the black bishop vanished without a trace. Whether towering tsunamis or boiling crimson seas, all living water in this world rapidly receded and collapsed, until only a black seabed remained.
Then the white bishop melted away like an illusion. The Unified Bureau shut down the Brilliant Light, and so all things fell silent. The roaring crust became still, and the lava blasting from the fissures rapidly solidified, losing all heat...
Now, Asia, Europe, Africa, South America, North America; barren land, violent oceans, cold or scorching hurricanes, and even the skies above... everything was being destroyed in an orderly fashion.
Only the low, mournful cry of a world falling apart remained.
Like strings snapping one after another, until only hollow echoes were left.
Amid this vast and lonely destruction, Old Gaia Earth VIII reached its end.
After the last cigarette had been smoked, this ravaged world retained only its final outline, and the last door beside the chairman that had yet to close.
"The fourteenth abandoned Eden and Promised Land..."
The chairman quietly gazed at the empty chessboard before him and took a bouquet of pure white flowers from his coat. Dew still clung to the petals, though no one knew where they had come from.
Like tears, it dripped into the cracks of the chessboard.
"Thank you for sheltering us and enduring us for more than three hundred years. You have truly suffered enough."
He removed his hat and bid farewell gently to all of it:
"—One day, let us meet again in some other hell."
.
At last, the door closed.
Within eternal darkness and silence, space devoid of all meaning contracted inward, dragging the lingering spectrum into a futile blueshift. As the Four Fundamental Forces collapsed, the chessboard and flowers were annihilated into nothingness.
Earth Eight annihilation complete.
The International Astronomical Society's Fourteenth World Annihilation Plan had now been completed.
At the final instant, a glimmer of light emerged above the chessboard. Amid the flowers' falling tears, it traced the pure white outline of a queen, which flew into the distance like a shooting star.
The old world died once more, as it had countless times before.
Then, a new world arrived.
All things carried on as usual.
.
This was the surviving record from ninety years ago, the final remnant of the glorious age.
After that, such prosperity would never exist again.
Before you continue