Fingers pointed. Eyes were raised. Gasps and screams. A man looks up from a strip mall parking lot. A child looks out from her bedroom window. Women circling in a new mown field stop and find each others hands. An astronomer, strolling through the virtual universe on a one acre plane, clip board in hand, contemplates what is occurring across the bright cluttered band in our skies, and faints. A neanderthal family steps out from their smoky cave, watches the flutters in the ribbon in the sky, and cries as one. And at the Supreme Yurt of the Confederation of America in East Carolina, An elderly Martin Luther King, Jr. receives the news update via his personal assistant glasses. He first wonders of the implications for his country, and then shakes his head and whispers a prayer for all mankind.
And all across the sky the stars are swirling, swirling, swirling. Faster and faster. In the visible ribbon of our galaxy uncalculable chaos and gravitational anarchy is proceeding. And all across this time we feel the first tremors that herald history's end.
"God!"
God looks up at his mother who is staring at him, hands on hips. He pauses, finger in mouth, as the glass of milk before him continues to swirl and swirl. The dreaded finger rises from her aproned hip and points at him. "Don't play with your milk. Let it be until dinner is ready."
"Yes Mother," He says quietly, and sits back to watch the motion in his glass slow and stop. And settle again.
Back to the land of Dreams.