We Are the Ants(8)

As the Jürgen Eichman looms ever larger in the night sky, as big as the moon and then bigger, people around the world realize something is wrong. The asteroid isn’t going to pass harmlessly by. It is going to become a meteor. Most are paralyzed with fear. What can they do? Where can they go? You cannot run from the hand of God.

Frieda Eichman stands alone in an empty field and watches the heavens burn. She whispers, “Ich habe dich so sehr, Papa verpasst.”

On 29 January 2016, at 1:39 UT, the Jürgen Eichman impacts the Mediterranean Sea. It is approximately the diame-ter of London. Those within three thousand kilometers of the impact witness a fireball larger than the sunrise over the horizon. Within a minute their clothes combust, grass is set ablaze. Everything is burning, including people. Seismic shocks follow. They radiate from the epicenter, shaking the ground like buried thunder, traveling the globe in less than twenty minutes. The earthquakes are shadowed by the air blast, which vaporizes nearly everything in its path. Houses are demolished, people killed, ancient trees ripped from the ground. Hours later a tidal wave hundreds of kilometers tall washes the earth clean.

Ash and dust bedim the sky, blocking the sun’s light. Those few who survive the initial impact die slowly, frozen and alone.





10 September 2015


Of the four fundamental forces, gravity is considered the weakest, despite its theoretically endless range. Gravitational forces attract physical bodies to one another. The greater their masses, the greater their attraction. We are pulled toward the ground by gravity, gravity keeps the moon in orbit around the earth, and our planet is held captive by the sun because of gravity. But gravity isn’t limited to celestial bodies, it applies to people, too. Though rather than being determined by mass, its force is determined by popularity.

Popularity is teenage heroin. Kids who have tasted it crave more; those who have it in abundance are revered as gods; and even those who have never basked in the light of its glory secretly desire it, regardless of what they may say to the contrary. Popularity can transform an otherwise normal kid into a narcissistic, ego-obsessed, materialistic *.

Not that I would know. I have never been, nor wanted to be, popular. Popularity is the reason Marcus ridicules me in public and makes out with me when we’re alone. He texted me a couple of times, still trying to convince me to spend the weekend at his house, but I didn’t respond.

He was pretending not to watch me from his locker as I dodged other students who were too busy staring at their phones to notice they were in my way. I wondered how Marcus would have reacted if I’d marched up to him and kissed him for the whole school to see. Not that I ever would.

Chemistry is my oasis, and I’m usually the first person to arrive, but today Audrey Dorn beat me and was at her desk, alternating between staring at her phone and watching the door.

I waved at Ms. Faraci when I entered, but she was busy drawing chemical structures on the board and didn’t notice.

“You’ve got to watch this.” Audrey faced her phone to me when I reached my desk. “It’s one of those Japanese prank shows. They put this guy in a coffin with a bunch of dead squid and leave him there.”

I slid into my seat. “Claustrophobia is hilarious.”

“Maybe another time.” Two girls walked in, and Audrey shrank reflexively, but they didn’t even look at us. “Listen, Henry . . .” She leaned across the aisle and spoke in a whisper. “I saw you coming out of the restroom yesterday.”

“Was my fly down? Did I forget to wear underwear again? I hate when I do that.”

“I know what you were doing in there.” Audrey’s eyes darted all over the room. “And I know who you were doing it with.”

More students trickled in as the two-minute bell rang. “Nice try, Veronica Mars, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You bite your lip when you’re lying, Henry.”

“And yours move when you’re being a nosy f*ckmuppet.”

“Did you just call me a f*ckmuppet?”

“If the hand fits . . .”

Audrey stiffened. “Whatever. I was only trying to help.”

“Your concern for me is touching. Too bad it’s not sincere.”

The stragglers rushed in as the final bell rang, filling the empty seats. Ms. Faraci dove into a review for our upcoming exam, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything except Marcus. Unless Audrey had a secret spy camera in the boys’ toilets, all she could know was that we’d both been in the restroom at the same time. Anyway, she was the only person at CHS snoopy enough to monitor when and where I took a whiz.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I jumped in my seat, which distracted Ms. Faraci, causing her to lose her train of thought and launch into a tangent about the importance of understanding atomic structure. As soon as she turned her back, I checked my phone. It was from Marcus, though he came up as All-Star Plumbers. His idea.

ALL -STAR PLUMBERS: bleachers. lunch. i’ll bring the footlong.

It was risky meeting him while Audrey was playing detective, but I wanted to see him, especially since I’d turned down his offer for the weekend. Even when I hate Marcus, I miss him when we aren’t together. He doesn’t fill the yawning hole left by Jesse, but sometimes he makes it hurt slightly less.

I texted a quick reply and then stowed my phone.