IT IS SHOW TIME

From Cloud Nine, I, Angel Agapanthus, tune in and see that around the globe television screens blink like Christmas lights. It’s a very pretty sight.

Barry King faces the camera. He wears my favorite blue shirt with white collar and a sublime navy tie with yellow stars. On the screen behind him are posted twelve telephone lines: on the left six for America, and on the right six for foreign countries. “Fellow Americans,” he says in a grave voice, “and fellow earthlings. Tonight my show will run for three hours. Give us a ring and we’ll answer questions.” He turns to a panel of men.

“These Stellar Operations experts, Frank, John and Charles, will explain what to expect on May six when this new-begotten comet will hit Bermuda. I’ve been told that most of the human race will likely be wiped out. Frank,”—he addresses the young guy with a crew cut—“what exactly is a rare super magnetic comet. Can you say it in plain English?”

“This unheard-of comet is super new,” says Frank, “though comets have been around for ages. The Chinese have produced annals going back for a long time. They regarded them with suspicion.”

“So, what’s new, folk?” Barry interrupts. “Our forefathers already mistrusted comets.”

Frank swallows; his Adam’s apple moves prominently. “Ancient people associated plague, famine and war with comets when they appeared in the sky. In Roman times the philosopher Seneca regarded them as true celestial bodies. Others guessed that comets were atmospheric exhalations.” Frank’s nostrils quiver—like a bunny. “Thanks to a 16^th century Danish astronomer by the name of Tycho Brahe it was established that comets are more remote than the moon, and therefore must be regarded as heavenly bodies. So . . . a comet is a heavenly body consisting of gasses and a solid block, about half a kilometer in diameter, revolving around the sun. And while it sweeps across the skies it produces a tail, sometimes even two or more. In Asia a comet is called a besom star because the tail resembles a sweeping broom as the comet moves across the constellations.” Frank wets his lips. “Meteor swarms, also known as shooting stars, are regarded as a comet’s offspring. John,”—he nods at his colleague—“how about telling them out there what this huge super cannon ball is going to do to Bermuda?”

John, middle-aged and chubby, stares at the camera. He now has the task to tell the truth in plain English. He clears his throat. His hazel eyes narrow when he says in a throaty voice: “This huge cannon ball will land on Bermuda with a big bang!” His fist hits the air. “Bermuda will be squashed to the bottom of the ocean floor.” He takes a deep breath. “Like mountains, walls of water will move across the Atlantic Ocean. Coastal areas will sink. Mountain tops, like those of Appalachia, will become islands. Western Europe, Ireland and England will be run over by water as if the Mongol army has laid waste to everything. Disaster is the word.” He stops; perspiration hugs his upper lip. “Except for countries like Norway, the Pyrenees, Alps, the Caucasus, Himalayas, and so on, mountain ranges will become islands . . . chains of islands!” John takes a deep breath, then whispers, “It reminds me of the story of Atlantis, a Greek island that disappeared mysteriously.”

“Atlantis became famous,” Charles shouts as he cranes his neck toward the camera, “because according to legend it was consumed by fire. It was a volcanic eruption, and the ashes were blown to the four corners of the earth.”

“Fearful prediction; I’m scared of fire,” Barry says, clasping his hands.

Looking straight into the camera, Charles says in a firm voice: “Marie Curie said that nothing in life is to be feared; it is only to be understood.”

“In that case,” Barry says, “people living on mountains have a chance to live.” He turns around and points toward the screen. “The first caller to ask a question is from Bermuda.”

“Hello!” An agitated voice emanates from the screen. “I’m Joseph Adam of the Bermuda weather channel. We are petrified hearing what’s in store for us, if indeed”—Joseph swallows audibly—“this new-begotten super magnetic cannon ball will destroy us in ninety days. You experts predict we’ll not sink but . . . we’ll be ashed . . . incinerated like those of Atlantis?”

“Brimstones from the skies,” Frank shouts, his Adam’s apple jumps up and down like a yo-you, “Sodom and Gomorrah were wiped from the map!”

“Frank,” Charles says, “that was an act of God.”