Ray Bradbury Stories Volume 1

They sat awhile not touching their coffee. Then they lifted it slowly and drank, looking at each other.

‘Do we deserve this?’ she said.

‘It’s not a matter of deserving; it’s just that things didn’t work out. I notice you didn’t even argue about this. Why not?’

‘I guess I’ve a reason,’ she said.

‘The same one everyone at the office had?’

She nodded slowly. ‘I didn’t want to say anything. It happened last night. And the women on the block talked about it, among themselves, today. They dreamed. I thought it was only a coincidence.’ She picked up the evening paper. ‘There’s nothing in the paper about it.’

‘Everyone knows, so there’s no need.’

He sat back in his chair, watching her. ‘Are you afraid?’

‘No. I always thought I would be, but I’m not.’

‘Where’s that spirit called self-preservation they talk so much about?’

‘I don’t know. You don’t get too excited when you feel things are logical. This is logical. Nothing else but this could have happened from the way we’ve lived.’

‘We haven’t been too bad, have we?’

‘No, nor enormously good. I suppose that’s the trouble – we haven’t been very much of anything except us, while a big part of the world was busy being lots of quite awful things.’

The girls were laughing in the parlor.

‘I always thought people would be screaming in the streets at a time like this.’

‘I guess not. You don’t scream about the real thing.’

‘Do you know, I won’t miss anything but you and the girls. I never liked cities or my work or anything except you three. I won’t miss a thing except perhaps the change in the weather, and a glass of ice water when it’s hot, and I might miss sleeping. How can we sit here and talk this way?’

‘Because there’s nothing else to do.’

‘That’s it, of course; for if there were, we’d be doing it. I suppose this is the first time in the history of the world that everyone has known just what they were going to do during the night.’

‘I wonder what everyone else will do now, this evening, for the next few hours.’

‘Go to a show, listen to the radio, watch television, play cards, put the children to bed, go to bed themselves, like always.’

‘In a way that’s something to be proud of – like always.’

They sat a moment and then he poured himself another coffee. ‘Why do you suppose it’s tonight?’

‘Because.’

‘Why not some other night in the last century, or five centuries ago, or ten?’

‘Maybe because it was never October 19, 1969, ever before in history, and now it is and that’s it; because this date means more than any other date ever meant; because it’s the year when things are as they are all over the world and that’s why it’s the end.’

‘There are bombers on their schedules both ways across the ocean tonight that’ll never see land.’

‘That’s part of the reason why.’

‘Well,’ he said, getting up, ‘what shall it be? Wash the dishes?’

They washed the dishes and stacked them away with special neatness. At eight-thirty the girls were put to bed and kissed good night and the little lights by their beds turned on and the door left open just a trifle.