Twelve million light years away from the planetary bomb about to destroy Earth there sits a café.

It’s almost closing time, and the barista is eyeing up the two stragglers still in the shop, thinking about how he wants to lie down and let the ground consume him. One of them is a woman called Sherry and the other a man called Time. Both have the long, distinct blue hair that all residents of this planet eventually acquire. They say it’s something to do with the atmosphere, but most people besides tourists don’t pay it much notice.

They’re only a table apart from each other. Sherry occasionally glances over to Time, who is too invested in his croissant to notice.

“Did you hear?” Sherry said, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” said Time with a mouthful of croissant, “Hear what?”

“The war. They’re trying to blow up Earth, I hear.”

“Well, yes, it’s all I hear these days,” Time paused before taking another bite from his croissant, “Who are you, anyway?”

“Sherry. You might’ve seen me at the market square, I have a stand there.”

“Oh,” Time said, remembering, “Yes, I do recognise you now. You’re with the School of Literature, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, I study punctuation.” Sherry’s face seemed to light up.

“Punctuation?”

“Yes. It’s a peculiar subject, really,” Sherry picked up her coffee and moved to Time’s table.

“How so? What is there to know about punctuation?”

“Well, it’s not really that interesting I suppose,” she said, downtrodden.

“Hm. Well I’m Time,” he held out a hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Time?” Sherry shook his hand and laughed a little, “What a fun name. What are you, the god of time?”

Time smiled and ignored her question,

“This whole war business might well be the end of us.”

“Do you think so?” Sherry said, and took a sip of her coffee.

“Well, yes. Last time this happened we only barely made it back. The power of these bombs… one of them’s going to end badly someday. For all of us.”

Unbeknownst to Time, 12 million light years away, Commander Robin Durway was pacing back and forth in the control room. There was a flurry of chaos in the room, with generals and commanders flitting about. The comically large red button was glowing and humming alongside all the other machinery scattered around the room. It was on a big control panel with maybe a hundred other buttons, most of which Commander Durway hadn’t the slightest clue what they did.

Outside of the window was Earth. Only a small circle from here, but close enough to know it. Durway ran a hand through his fading hair, only a few loose strands left now.

“Commander Durway.” came a voice from the doorway, making Durway jump slightly, “The President is calling.”

Durway hurried over to the soldier, weaving between some generals arguing about launch angle percentages. He noticed the man only had one badge on his uniform, and quickly composed himself. If a soldier this low rank was so calm and collected, then he must at least pretend to have his own shit together.

Of course, that was not the case. In fact, the soldier, called Henry, did not have his shit together. Henry’s mind was currently rattling around with panic and a hint of embarrassment of his own, he was just better at hiding it. He didn’t even notice the Commander’s nerves, all he could think about was how sweaty his own hands were— and that he was holding the phone with those hands.

The Commander couldn’t tell a thing when he took the phone.

“President, sir.” he said, and returned to pacing the room, albeit slower and more deliberately this time, as if he was thinking hard about each word he was saying.

“Ah, Commander Durway,” came a crackling voice, “How are things looking out there?”

Durway looked over the room, awash with a vibrating atmosphere of panic, like electrical currents arcing through the room and perpetually, exponentially amplifying until the mortal body can take no more, inevitably exploding in the nature of an overworked ship thruster reaching its limit. Yet the men and women, despite their red faces, did not explode.

“Good, sir,” he said with uncertainty, “All preparations are… nearly ready.”

“Wonderful…” said the President, “I just wish I could be there to see it myself.”

Durway chuckled and tried not to sound too nervous, then said nothing. Over the phone he could hear the faint, indistinct voices of other people. A woman and another man talking, as well as the sound of rattling dice.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Durway, I think you’re the best Commander I’ve had the pleasure of working with.”

“W-Why thank you, sir.”

“I mean it,” the President burped, “I should really give you another medal.”

“Thank you, sir.” Durway said.

A few thousand light years away, on a space station called ‘The Pearl Spike’, the President took another swig of diamond wine. He laughed and tossed a few glittering coins onto the table where he was playing cards. The others sitting there didn’t seem to bat an eye.

“Anyway, what was I calling you for?” the President said,

“The bomb, sir?” Durway suggested,

“Ah!” He said, “Of course, of course. When all is ready, you have my permission to go ahead. Blast those idiots to dust once and for all.”

The President hung up the phone, and Durway felt somewhat shaken. He looked at the glowing red button on the control panel. The button stared back. Durway ran a hand through his strands of hair, and glanced between the button and Earth, over and over until his eyes felt weary.

“Are you okay, Commander?” said Henry, who was still standing in the doorway waiting for him to return the phone. Durway jumped, and spun around,

“Of course!” he cried, and hurried over, shoving the phone back into Henry’s hand, “Now run along, there might be a bit of a shake so find somewhere to sit nicely.”

Henry nodded, and scurried from the room, tripping over himself on his way out.

Eventually the control room settled to an uncertain air, as opposed to outright panic. Everyone stood in their positions, all that was left was Commander Durway and the big red button.

Durway had kept to the back of the room whilst the rest had worked, but now he was forced to return to the looming presence of the button. He took a deep breath. The best way to handle situations like this, he had learned from his years as commander, was to think as little as possible about the ramifications of big decisions. A tunnel vision, of sorts. Durway pictured in his mind a peaceful nation, he pictured his homeworld finally resting, with no more bloodshed. He had become good at focusing on these and pushing down the bad thoughts.

He’d visited Earth once, on a trip powered by historical curiosity, and had seen many of the sights. These images were the ones he pushed down and ignored. The people laughing in the street, the strangers meeting in cafes and talking about the universe and their lives. If he thought too much about this, his position as commander would be rescinded. Too much hesitation at the wheel of ultimate destruction set a bad precedent for the nation. Durway strode across the control room, all watching his every move. He set his eyes onto Earth with a steely determination,

“Time to end this war,” he whispered, and pressed the big red button.

In no time at all, the planet Earth exploded into a ball of flames.

An ant had been climbing out of its colony’s hill just moments before. She had basked in the glorious sun and waddled over to investigate the strange metal object that had been placed outside of their home. It certainly didn’t look like food, and it had a strange smell to it.

Moments later this ant would be the first to die from the bomb that destroyed Earth. But in the few nanoseconds between detonation and reaching the ant, something strange would happen. Being an ant, this tiny insect didn’t have the slightest idea why, but the bomb seemed to catch a hold of atoms in a way that no other bomb before it had. It seemed to seize them and shake them around so vigorously that they exploded with the same wrath of another gigantic bomb, which led to another explosion, and another, and another, and so on. This meant that it kept going. And going. And going. Until eventually Commander Durway began to regret pressing the button, as the explosion grew before him.

Maybe five seconds had passed between the ant’s death and Durway’s death, and the explosion would only continue from there. How the bomb continued to explode, even into the emptiness of space, is a mystery. It seemed to defy all laws of physics, and the Gods didn’t seem to care. Soon enough, whole solar systems, stars, and galaxies were consumed.

“An Oxford Comma.” Sherry said, placing her coffee firmly onto the table.

“Sorry?” Time said, confused. He was still thinking about the war.

“It’s the biggest debate in punctuation study, I’m making a presentation on it at the moment for my class.”

“Oh, I see. And are you arguing for or against?”

“For. You’d better not tell me you’re against them.”

“I’m not exactly a literature guy. I guess I don’t really understand the point of them. Does it matter if they’re there or not?”

“You can’t have a proper list without them,” Sherry said, passion burning in her eyes, “Without the Oxford Comma you run the risk of confusing people. Has the list ended? Is it still going? Endless questions and confusion.”

“Right…” Time said, and took the last bite of his croissant very slowly.

“And somehow people continue to argue that it’s completely unnecessary, choosing to damn the reader to a life of confusion and–” Sherry stopped, and sighed, “You don’t care, do you?”

“Well…” said Time, “I don’t mind listening to you rant, if it’s something you’re passionate about.”

“No, no,” Sherry said, “I won’t bore you.”

“Alright,” Time shrugged, and glanced out of the window. Just in time to see the tiny golden speck in the sky that was definitely not a star. It only seemed to grow more and more, and he couldn’t help but stare at it. Sherry saw his eyes focused out of the window, and looked out herself.

“What is that?” She said, not out of concern or fear, just simple curiosity.

“Must be Earth. I guess the Empire finally did it.”

“Damn,” Sherry sighed, “Book import prices are gonna go up.”

Time chuckled a little.

“What?” Sherry turned to look at him.

“Nothing, it’s just– a planet has just blown up, and all you can think about is books.”

“Well,” Sherry smiled and shrugged with slight embarrassment, “I didn’t know anyone from Earth. I guess it’s still a bit insensitive to completely ignore all that death.”

There was a moment of silence between the two as they contemplated this.

“You know, I wonder who died first.” Time said, a contemplative look on his face.

“Probably some poor farmer. I’d guess that a big field is the easiest place to drop a bomb.”

“What about the insects?”

“Oh.” Sherry said, “I suppose you’re right.”

They both stared at the tiny speck of light in silence for a minute. Lingering around them, in the form of what might be called a spirit or ghost, was the ant. This was, sadly, the most she was getting for a funeral. Even so it was a grand funeral for such a small thing, and she was grateful for that, even if that emotion was something foreign to her.

The barista finished putting away all the cups and plates. He’d cleaned everything twice, and organised the cupboards. All that was left was to turn out the lights and close shop for the day. He had half listened to the conversation of the two stragglers, but had quickly lost interest. Sure, he should care about the war, but he was more concerned with getting his rent paid on time this month. It wouldn’t affect him much anyway, he reasoned, their planet being so far from most of civilization.

“How long will you be?” the barista said. Sherry and Time both snapped out of their daze, now grounded back into reality. The spirit of the ant vanished.

“I’m ready to leave.” Sherry said, and Time nodded too. They both stood up, and the barista sighed with great relief. Sherry and Time stepped out into the cold of the evening. It wasn’t autumn or winter, but their planet tended to lean towards the colder side as a preference.

“It was nice talking to you, Sherry.” said Time.

“Yes. I hope you have a nice rest of your evening.”

The two silently parted ways, Sherry walking along the canal towards her house, and Time wandering through the town to his own home.

The barista closed shop and looked up into the night sky just in time. Just in time to be the last person on his planet to look up into the night sky, as the explosion reached out and consumed them too.

When all was said and done and the universe turned to ash and dust, it sighed, as well as a universe can, and carried on. Time carried on. Just like it always does.