100TWC - Day 95: Acceptance

Roger had always loved moonlight. Legend had it that the light of a full moon could send a man mad. Howling at the moon, or baying at the moon, would be the result of too much exposure. So they said. That had never been more true than on this night. Yet perhaps because of his life-long love of Earth's only celestial partner, tonight Roger felt saner than he ever had. Looking around him at the dozen or so other occupants of Glastonbury Tor, none of whom he knew but all of whom apparently shared, if not his passion then at least his attitude, he also felt saner than the overwhelming mass of humanity.

When he'd left home to take up his position for what he assumed would be a lonely vigil, the television news bulletins had been full of mayhem. Rioting, looting, drunken naked folk running through the streets, fornication everywhere the cameras pointed. Like some crazy hyped-up carnival, the greatest show on Earth. Anything goes, roll up, roll up. Get your last fix before the final curtain. Fulfil your life's dreams. Act out your darkest fantasies. No police, no courts, no charges. In either sense. No criminal prosecutions and no fees. A free-for-all in the widest possible sense. All pretence at government or crowd control finally removed. Mankind at its most bestial. Faced with the ultimate peril, the end of all things, with no hope of survival, the very instinct for that survival was ripped from every soul on the planet. What else was left then, but to revel in the basest of pleasures? Take it while you could. Everything was on offer, no-one had anything left to lose. A few hours of sexual fulfilment, or culinary delight, or alcohol-fuelled mayhem, was all that remained.

Unless you were like Roger. He, and his handful of compatriots, sat quietly on the Tor, watching the moon. He could have chosen a higher spot. Some of the major roads were blocked by those making a desperate last-minute attempt to connect with distant family or friends. To see loved ones one last time, if only for a few brief moments. But he could have made it to Snowdonia, or Striding Edge or any one of a number of taller mountains he had visited in his 35 years on Earth. But Glastonbury, and the Tor, had always had a special place in his heart. Its quietness and spirituality brought a calmness to his soul like no other place he knew. And he needed that now. Needed to be close to what he always considered the centre of things. Whether it was ley lines or magnetic forces or plain Celtic magic was immaterial now. It felt good, that was what mattered. It felt better than swilling down a couple of pints of single malt and welcoming oblivion before the final impact. Better than fighting past hordes of looters to get his hands on long-cherished stuff that would be vapour scant minutes after the grasping. Better than the most experienced whore or the most beautiful virgin.

He grimaced at the thought that there probably weren't any virgins left, at least above a certain, previously illegal, age. No. None of that appealed to him. He wanted to be fully conscious at the end, with his spirit and his integrity intact.

Roger stared up at the moon. Already bigger than the biggest supermoon in history, its silver glow filled at least twice its normal space in the night sky. It had blotted out all but the brightest stars. A fresh October wind picked up some early autumn leaves from the trees at the base of the Tor and set them spinning up to reach him. Was this the start of the freak weather that had been predicted? He pushed his hair out of his eyes. He thought he could detect the moon growing even larger. Even now, with still several hours to go, its disc expanded noticeably by the minute. Scientists had predicted impact at 1:37am GMT. Somewhere south of Glastonbury, he couldn't remember exactly where. Not that it mattered. When the moon was finally reunited with the Earth after their countless millennia of separation, the exact place -- where a notional umbilicus of fatal gravity connected the two bodies -- would be just as terminal as any other spot on their world.

He had reached a state of calm acceptance of this fact surprisingly quickly, even for him. Where was there to run? Where could provide any protection or hiding place from the gargantuan impact. There was nowhere. All he could do was sit, and watch.