The world ended.

Not with a bang, nor even a whimper.

But with a text message.

I’d gotten off late, having worked the night shift, and found myself in the mid-morning rush hour downtown. People were everywhere, stumbling along, noses buried in their phones or cups of steaming coffee, or both. Everyone had their Monday faces on, like they were all holding in farts as they tromped off toward their day jobs, already wishing it were Friday.

In a tired haze, I pushed my way through the crowd, going against the natural flow of pedestrian traffic. I ignored the grumbled complaints around me as I interrupted their concentrated disinterest and made people have to look up and pay attention for a nano-second.

How rude of me, I know.

And that’s when it happened.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating my thigh. I blew it off and kept walking. Anyone who’d message me that early wasn’t someone I wanted to talk to, anyway.

A few seconds later, I’d pretty much slipped back into my post-work daze when I heard a loud chirp somewhere beside me. Then a beep, and a buzz, then that famous ding-tone; you know the one.

Can you hear me now?

I most certainly could. Mainly because it sounded as if everyone in the world got the same message at damn near the same time. The sidewalk erupted with a tsunami of notification chimes.

The flow of people around me bogged down as they slowed to pay even more attention to their phones, as impossible as that seems. Distracted, I bumped into the back of a guy who smelled delightfully of Old Spice and Marlboro Blacks, who’d stopped to check the text. He flipped me a noncommittal bird without even looking up, muttered something under his breath, and just kept reading.

Not one to let casual disrespect go, I was about to tell the guy where he could go, providing detailed directions regarding my suggested route, when I realized everyone had stopped talking and stared at their cells with wide eyes and jaws agape.

And I mean everyone.

 An uncomfortable silence settled over the street, and even the incessant revving of engines and honking horns had gone quiet, rush hour coming to a complete standstill.

It was eerie.

I stuffed a hand in my pocket and yanked out my phone, wondering what the hell was going on. I scrolled past my lock screen and tapped the text notification. This is what popped up:

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The Apocalypse Decree.

We, the Children of the Quietus, offer you revelation. Ten minutes after the arrival of this missive, humanity, as you know it, will cease to exist. Nature has borne our burden for far too long, and she can maintain us no longer. So, to right the scales long since thrown askew, we usher in the end. The trappings of humanity will be destroyed, and the plague upon this planet will be culled until its number is rendered manageable. Then, and only then, will the Children restore order and bring peace to the world.

My eyes glazed as they read over the message. As far as world-ending threats went, it was a little light on details and thick with ideology.

Somebody loves their dictionary.

I glanced up to check out the expressions of the people around me when I realized whoever had sent the message hadn’t just hacked the phone networks, they’d managed to override the television stations, too.

Vinnie’s Pawn Shop sat off the side. He’d taken to sticking the newest flatscreen TVs in the display window and turning them on, showing a variety of channels that beamed out onto the sidewalk.

I don’t know if it did much for sales, but the bright flashing lights and colors always drew a crowd of easily distracted magpies. Today, dozens of people loomed before the sets, staring at the exact same message I’d just read on my phone.

It was on every channel.

“WTF?” someone called out, the question pretty much encapsulating the thoughts of everyone shuffling about that morning.

This being New York, however, the shock of yet another threat to the city wore off quickly. People grumbled and complained, a few muttering that the end of the world better not mess up their train schedules, and then they went on about their business, bitching about the interruption.

Skeptical myself, I continued on my way home, skimming the net on my phone. The message really was everywhere. It was trending on social media and all the news sites, and even my lonely MeWe feed was full of posts about it, my three friends discussing it.

Passersby chatted about it all around me as I made it to my apartment building right around the predicted ten minutes. I was just about to dismiss it as a hoax when I heard a gasp and spun about to see a young girl pointing upward.

My gaze followed her finger, and a knot formed in my throat.

Just my luck, the apocalypse is right on time.

In low orbit, strings of explosions glared bright against the blue sky, nearly washing the color out. I shaded my eyes with my hand and squinted as my brain imagined the stars exploding, taking out the firmament.

Then it clicked what it was.

They weren’t stars at all, they were satellites, and they blew up, one after another, explosions filling the heavens. It was like someone had turned up the brightness of the world.

Moments later, dots dancing in my eyes, a low throb washed over me, rattling my fillings and staggering me. My phone grew instantly hot and burned my palm. It flared as I dropped it, flames slagging the device before it clattered to the concrete and shattered into a useless heap of smoldering pieces.

I cradled my stinging hand and watched as, all around me, the same thing played out from person to person. Phone after phone hit the ground with a crash, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

Every light, every device, every circuit, and connection crackled and failed, letting out a death rattle of hisses. Sparks rained down on the streets below. Transformers exploded, rumbling like great peals of thunder. People gasped and dove for cover or stood frozen in place, caught between fight and flight. The sidewalks were chaos, the air filled with charred ozone and burnt rubber.

A funereal silence settled over the city, and the only sound I could hear was the thump of my heart in my ears.

Then existence flickered.

Once…twice…then once again, and the veil was pulled back from the world, revealing what was truly there.

That’s when I realized just how screwed we really were.