This short story from the perspective of Earth was written by Juliet Bu ’23 for her English class.
The Plague
In a galaxy not so far away…
There is no need for me to look in the mirror. I already know that my once gleaming blue and green skin is various shades of brown, and my dull eyes reflect the sadness and emptiness inside me. I miss my youthful days, where I was healthy and filled to the brim with all the energy in the universe. Instead, as the Plague grows everyday, and I get more and more sick and miserable. Despite my constant declining health, I must push through and do what I was made to do. Today is no different. When I wake up, I’m instantly bombarded by a fit of coughing. I gasp for air but it’s no use: I still feel like I’m drowning. This kind of rude awakening is quite common for me. The hike to my desk seems like a million light-years and I collapse into my office chair, barely able to stand, and definitely not able to start my job. What’s the point? I’m constantly working and somehow, the Plague is always one step ahead. The Ozone layer always has an unrepairable hole in it, there is always a lack of fresh water, there is always an overload of carbon dioxide, and there are so many other problems that I don’t have the energy to deal with. I feel like I’m constantly drowning in exhaustion. The Plague is slowly dragging me down, destroying my hard work, making it increasingly impossible for me to fix all the damage.
At 4.543 billion years old, I’ve had my share of issues. Until a few thousand years ago, my biggest problem was some stray meteors. My job was easy and I lived a carefree life, dancing around the Sun. Then, the Plague came. I’ve had a scorching hot fever for a few million years, and I’ve had to work a billion times harder to fix the damage that the Plague has caused. What’s the point? It seems like the Plague is unstoppable, like an emancipated alien eating everything it can lay its hands on. It’s not like there’s a cure either. I used to talk about it with Mars, but ever since the Plague started infecting her too, she stopped talking to me. I mean, I don’t think that the Plague has infected her as much as it has infected me. Or at least I hope not. I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy, not even Pluto!
Today, I am especially drained. I turn on my monitor and the date flashes: it is April 30th, 2030. I glance at the numbers on my screen. My eyes widen in disbelief as I see that the carbon dioxide levels are skyrocketing. Because of this, the hole in the Ozone layer has expanded another 60 million square miles. The freshwater amounts have hit rock bottom, along with the oil levels and all the other resources that I had replenished recently. My monitor shows a blaring red alert. EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! My eyes glaze over and my mind shuts down. There is no way I can fix this. After 4.543 billion years I am ready to succumb to the Plague.
Meanwhile…
Empty grocery store shelves. Empty fridges. Empty stomachs. Violence reigns the streets as those who are brave enough, or just have nothing to lose, battle to the death for food, water, and basic necessities. The ground has run out of oil and the factories stand like empty, ominous shadows, no longer able to serve their purpose of producing products. Regardless of this, the skies are still a dark grey that seems to infect everything it settles on, coloring the whole world with gloom. The only thing that falls from the sky is acid rain, which tears down the gleaming buildings and kills the once-fresh crops. All the trees have been cut down and no new ones sprout, leaving a landscape of lifeless tree stumps. The pollution is so bad that parents do not dare to let their children leave their homes. The economy is crumbling and society is in disarray. The world is coming to an end. After a few months, the only sound in the world is silence.
One year later…
I rub my eyes drowsily. What happened? I thought the Plague had consumed me, but I am pleasantly surprised to see that I am fine. In fact, I haven’t even coughed yet! I rush over to the monitor. The numbers have stayed the same since the last time I sat in front of my desk. How is this possible? Unless… There is no way. The Plague had been so strong, so robust, so undefeatable. There is no way that it is gone. What did I miss? The date flashes on my monitor. April 30th, 2031. I have been in a deep slumber for a year. I quickly touch my forehead. For the first time in millions of years, my skin is only slightly warm, a stark change from its usual burning hot temperature. It has been a long time since I’ve been this eager to work, and my newfound energy allows me to restore everything quickly. My monitor beams approval towards me, happy with a full screen of good news. I push out my chair and slowly walk towards the mirror. What if this is all a dream? What if I still have the Plague and I am just hallucinating? I stop in front of the mirror and open my eyes. My doubts are instantly assuaged. I smile, and the mirror smiles right back at me as it admires my bright green and blue body.