Albert stood on the hill and gazed at the sunset. He was wearing the ceremonial robes in the approved manner. It had been argued that such a costume was superfluous, but Albert had replied that the ceremony should be "done right".
From the beginning Albert had been concerned that the project proceed along "proper" lines. It was one of his favourite words, "proper". Ever since his selection as "He Who Shall Have the Final Word" he had been rigorous in his preparation. He had studied all the major works on the subject, in order that everything should be just so. Now the time had come he was sure his pains would be justified. His colleagues would have to concede this. If they were still alive.
Thinking back over history, Albert allowed himself a small smile. Back in the twentieth century they had had the arrogance to imagine they were in danger of destroying the world. Fools to believe that they had that kind of power. No, it wasn't until his own generation, well into the twenty-first century, that the necessary energy source had been developed.
Albert glanced at the sinking sun. A few more minutes to go.
It was of course the only logical thing to do. The world was suffering, and now it was possible to end that suffering. Best to put the old girl out of her misery.
The mechanism had been primed at seven minutes past eleven the previous evening. This timing meant that the process would be complete at sunset the following day. Albert thought that this was very theatrical, as was proper in the circumstances.
He looked again at the horizon, and saw that the sun was already below the optimal point calculated the day before. He unfurled his speech notes and cleared his throat;...and with a wimper, the world came to an end.

Copyright © 1998, Tom Massey
URL: http://www.oocities.org/SoHo/Atrium/8864/stories/lastw.html

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