LastNightoftheWorld

By:RayBradbury

OriginallypublishedintheFebruary1951issueofEsquire

"Whatwouldyoudo

ifyouknewthiswasthelastnightoftheworld?"

"WhatwouldIdo;youmean,seriously?"

"Yes,seriously."

"Idon'tknow—Ihadn'tthought.Sheturnedthehandleofthesilvercoffeepottowardhimandplacedthetwocupsintheirsaucers.

Hepouredsomecoffee.Inthebackground,thetwosmallgirlswereplayingblocksontheparlorruginthelightofthegreenhurricanelamps.Therewasaneasy,cleanaromaofbrewedcoffeeintheeveningair.

"Well,betterstartthinkingaboutit,"hesaid.

"Youdon'tmeanit?"saidhiswife.

Henodded.

"Awar?"

Heshookhishead.

"Notthehydrogenoratombomb?"

"No."

"Orgermwarfare?"

"Noneofthoseatall,"hesaid,stirringhiscoffeeslowlyandstaringintoitsblackdepths."Butjusttheclosingofabook,let'ssay."

"Idon'tthinkIunderstand."

"No,nordoIreally.It'sjutafeeling;sometimesitfrightensme,sometimesI'mnotfrightenedatall—butpeaceful."Heglancedinatthegirlsandtheiryellowhairshininginthebrightlamplight,andloweredhisvoice."Ididn'tsayanythingtoyou.Itfirsthappenedaboutfournightsago."

"What?"

"AdreamIhad.Idreamtthatitwasallgoingtobeoverandavoicesaiditwas;notanykindofvoiceIcanremember,butavoiceanyway,anditsaidthingswouldstophereonEarth.Ididn'tthinktoomuchaboutitwhenIawokethenextmorning,butthenIwenttoworkandthefeelingaswithmeallday.IcaughtStanWillislookingoutthewindowinthemiddleoftheafternoonandIsaid,'Pennyforyourthoughts,Stan,'andhesaid,'Ihadadreamlastnight,'andbeforeheeventoldmethedream,Iknewwhatitwas.Icouldhavetoldhim,buthetoldmeandIlistenedtohim."

"Itwasthesamedream?"

"Yes.ItoldStanIhaddreamedit,too.Hedidn'tseemsurprised.Herelaxed,infact.Thenwestartedwalkingthroughoffices,forthehellofit.Itwasn'tplanned.Wedidn'tsay,let'swalkaround.Wejustwalkedonourown,andeverywherewesawpeoplelookingattheirdesksortheirhandsoroutthewindowsandnotseeingwhatwasinfrontoftheireyes.Italkedtoafewofthem;sodidStan."

"Andallofthemhaddreamed?"

"Allofthem.Thesamedream,withnodifference."

"Doyoubelieveinthedream?"

Theysatamomentandthenhepouredmorecoffee."Whydoyousupposeit'stonight?"

"Because."

"Whynotsomenightinthepasttenyearsofinthelastcentury,orfivecenturiesagoorten?"

"Maybeit'sbecauseitwasneverFebruary30,1951,everbeforeinhistory,andnowitisandthat'sit,becausethisdatemeansmorethananyotherdateevermeantandbecauseit'stheyearwhenthingsareastheyareallovertheworldandthat'swhyit'stheend."

"Therearebombersontheircoursebothwaysacrosstheoceantonightthat'llneverseelandagain."

"That'spartofthereasonwhy."

"Well,"hesaid."Whatshallitbe?Washthedishes?"

Theywashedthedishescarefullyandstackedthemawaywithespecialneatness.Ateight-thirtythegirlswereputtobedandkissedgoodnightandthelittlelightsbytheirbedsturnedonandthedoorleftatrifleopen.

"Iwonder,"saidthehusband,comingoutandlookingback,standingtherewithhispipeforamoment."

"What?"

"Ifthedoorshouldbeshutallthewayorifitshouldbeleftjustalittleajarsowecanhearthemiftheycall."

"Iwonderifthechildrenknow—ifanyonementionedanythingtothem?"

"No,ofcoursenot.They'dhaveaskedusaboutit."

Theysatandreadthepapersandtalkedandlistenedtosomeradiomusicandthensattogetherbythefireplacelookingatthecharcoalembersastheclockstruckten-thirtyandelevenandeleven-thirty.Theythoughtofalltheotherpeopleintheworldwhohadspenttheirevening,eachintheirownspecialway.

"Well,"hesaidatlast.Hekissedhiswifeforalongtime.

"We'vebeengoodforeachother,anyway."

"Doyouwanttocry?"heasked.

"Idon'tthinkso."

Theywentthroughthehouseandturnedoutthelightsandlockedthedoors,andwentintothebedroomandstoodinthenightcooldarknessundressing.Shetookthespreadfromthebedandfoldeditcarefullyoverachair,asalways,andpushedbackthecovers."Thesheetsaresocoolandcleanandnice,"shesaid.

"I'mtired."

"We'rebothtired."

Theygotintobedandlayback.

"Waitamoment,"shesaid.

Heheardhergetupandgooutintothebackofthehouse,andthenheheardthesoftshufflingofaswingingdoor.Amomentlatershewasback."Ileftthewaterrunninginthekitchen,"shesaid."Iturnedthefaucetoff."

Somethingaboutthiswassofunnythathehadtolaugh.

Shelaughedwithhim,k