Waiting for the Stars to Fall
On an island in the middle of a bright blue sea sat a house. A very special house.
It was programmed for any contingency. It could handle any emergency. Overhead, a network of satellites kept watch and sent messages back and forth through the dark depths of space.
Every evening, as the sun went down, the house wheeled the bed to the window facing west. The sun warmed the room as it slowly slipped into the sea and the stars appeared in a blaze of glorious points of light across the night. Shortly, the bed was wheeled back from the window and the curtains drew themselves closed.
The house had done this for many evenings. It did not count them, though it kept count. It merely performed its programming and waited.
The bed, too, did what it was designed to do. It provided comfort to the body nestled within its heart. It ensured the man that lay in its grip was comfortable. It fed him. It bathed him. It cared for his every need except for the nightly sunset. The house did that.
The bed had done this for many days. It did not count them, though it kept count. It merely performed its programming and waited.
One very special sunset came, and the house and the bed knew it was a very special sunset. As the dark descended upon the island in the sea and on the house and on the bed and on the man, the sky began to change.
To some it would have appeared like a fireworks show. Lights fell from the sky, leaving long streaks in the dark as they fell. Other lights grew brighter, some so bright that the dark disappeared for several moments.
The bed was not wheeled back from the window at the normal time. It stayed, and the man in the bed watched the stars fall from the sky.
The great space battle that had ended the war had taken place many, many years before. The debris and the lights from the dying ships had taken that long to reach this world. The stars that were killed had sent their dying light out into space and those lights had reached this world.
The man in the bed had not participated in that battle. He had not fought. He had merely given the order that sent the battle into motion.
The events of that battle, the deaths of men and ships and worlds and suns, had cost him everything. In his last act, he had caused the bed and the house on the island in the sea on the world to be built. And with his last breath, he watched the stars fall.
The bed terminated its program. The house drew the curtains and terminated its program. The satellites that orbited the planet noted the changes and sent their messages into the dark depths of space.
The wave of debris and radiation from the dying of the stars reached the world. It burned. There was no one to see.
