Hannah, Peter, Karen, and Don eat noodles with tomato sauce in silence. The hall seems alien to them, they seem alien to each other. Or they imagine it, because childhood is over. You can see it in their long arms and legs and their too-short sleeves and the facial hair growing on Peter, and the faces that are losing their subcutaneous fatty tissue, or by an expression or an aspiration or their humor. Growing up is no fun. “Shall we take another shot at rapping?” asks Don. And hears herself; she sounds like a therapist suggesting a couple put on sexy underwear and everything will be all right again with their marital cohabitation.

Then they go outside the hall, nobody has built a fire, Don starts to rap an old Skepta song.

Wow, I’m the king of grime

and I will be for a very long time

’cause I go to the rave

get a rewind

and the second line

never sounded like the first line.

Wow, I’m the king of grime

and I will be for a very long time

The others stare at the ground slightly uneasily. Don stops. Her little thin voice is swallowed up by the wind.

The four of them stand there awkwardly, each with their own sense of disappointment but all having to do with the fact that they’ve given up. But they don’t know this. “This is silly,” says Karen. “I’m going to bed.”

None of them sleeps that night.

They all stare into the darkness.

It is the last night.

Somewhat later, it still exists.

THE WORLD

There, look, easily recognizable

From above. The lights from above. The lights are warm, in rooms and caves and tents. They sit there and look at computers, they crouch around fireplaces and in kitchens and in groups, though often alone, in fact mostly alone, that’s the state in which everyone can best feel their individuality. A lightbulb dangles from the ceiling. Over here they wage war, and over there is a tsunami. A bit of murder there, or a child is manufactured. It then stands around without asking itself any questions.

There it is. The zero hour after the restart of evolution. The first people are born. They open their eyes and look at their parents. Without any emotion. Without any feelings. They smile, because that’s necessary in their tenuous situation. They smile because they will then be fed.

The world hasn’t ended. Humans haven’t gone extinct. So, first of all, pop a bottle. Cheers.—