Surprise went supernova. There was a second of calm, then an ear-splitting blast which echoed across time and space. Gigantic concentric circles of energy radiated out from the star as billions of legs performed a can-can. The wave engulfed everything in its path, knocked over the dancers mid-kick, after which everything went dark. The boom of the supernova dissipated. The Universe fell silent for the first time since Creation.

Then, out of the darkness, billions of points of light descended. They spread like rainfall across the Universe touching everybody on every planet. Simultaneously, all humanity experienced exactly the same realisation.

Everyone knew with perfect certainty that they were going to die. The thought became as fundamental as breathing. With this, the utter futility of so much human behaviour became clear. What was the point of chasing money, power, prestige, unless for a higher purpose? Nothing survives the grave. What reason was there to hold extreme views which lead nowhere? History only celebrates the humane. Why spend a life in anger, regret or mediocrity? What a waste when looking back. And since death renders everything meaningless, every man, woman and child was imbued with a single, simple thought. Why not live a life that matters?

* * * * *

A figure lay on a tropical shoreline lapped by a warm sea. A tongue was licking his face, trying to summon him to consciousness. The waves rolled in to the deserted beach and the sun shone warmly overhead, infusing his limbs with its heat. It seemed as though he would not awake, but the tongue persisted with certain knowledge, and eventually its efforts were rewarded.

When the figure opened his salt-stung eyes, he saw a dog leaping, ecstatic at having woken his master. His mouth was parched and he ached all over. He could barely move for fatigue. He dragged himself up the shore, the dog pulling on the rags of his clothes to urge him on.

He must have fallen asleep. When he awoke the sun was lower in the sky, but the heat was still intense. The dog was barking, bounding about the beach. ‘Easy boy,’ he managed to croak, as the dog’s excitement intensified. With a superhuman effort he forced himself to his knees. There was nothing to excite the dog’s interest, just miles of steamy shoreline. He looked out across the ocean, raising his hand to his forehead against the sun. The dog couldn’t control himself and started to run around in circles.

Tancredi had no idea where he was or what had happened. He felt sure his ragged condition meant he was alive. People didn’t enter the after-life filthy, being licked by a dog. His last thought had been of Cocomo on the white swan. Then there was a flash and a falling through darkness. A dozen thoughts raced in his head, coalescing into the most fantastical. Perhaps there was something magical about the supernova and somehow he’d been saved.

He looked down the shoreline for Kasbek; he was leaping for joy beside two little figures running in his direction. One was a boy with a galaxy of freckles and glasses just like his, the other a girl in a yellow and brown shuka. Beyond them, in the distance, his eye was drawn to the silhouette of a woman against the sunlight. She was walking down the beach towards him, her black hair billowing in the tropical breeze.