Chapter 1
7th October 2910
Mason,
It has been a long time since we spoke last. I suppose I should apologise for being so lax with the visiting, letter writing, etc., but I’m sure you understand. You were always hopeless at remembering to write to Mother, even last year. Still, she forgave you, and at least now you cannot forget - there is no one left to write to, thanks to you and your friends’ stunts. But now is not the time for bitterness, as I must give you the news which I am not certain you will have heard in your cell.
The sun didn’t set last night. It fell.
No one knows why. The engineers were all certain it would hang where the old one did; they swear that it was impossible it could fall, yet it’s now floating somewhere in the Indian Ocean after only twenty years up there, and it nearly took out a satellite on the way down. I thought you ought to know, just in case this is the event that heralds the end - after all, if we cannot have a sun, then we cannot live.
Farewell,
Harper
Harper sighed heavily as she lay down her pen, adjusting the goggles on her honey-blonde head. Rubbing her weary, bottle-green eyes with the heel of her calloused hand, she debated whether or not to send the letter. It wasn’t as if she owed him anything, and Mother certainly couldn’t force her to, not anymore. It was all Mason’s fault, too. He and his blasted mates had roughed up the wrong guys, got themselves in prison. Mother hadn’t been able to take it, not so soon after their Dad ran off and shacked up with the slut from London (apparently so much classier than his family back in Manchester). She’d had a heart attack and never woke up. Harper didn’t think she could ever forgive any of them for killing her Mama.
Still, that was not the most pressing matter.
No, the most pressing matter was the sun. Or rather, lack thereof. Although… it wasn’t as if it would kill them (her letter may have been a touch dramatic); they had, after all, survived the burnout of the real sun (though Harper was only a baby then). Sure, it had wiped out the electronics, and the solar power went to hell, but apart from that, it was fine. A clockwork world wasn’t too bad and, as her family were once watchmakers, she was now leading in technology and mechanics. Not a bad upgrade. The clockwork sun had been designed by leading mechanics (not including baby-her, else it wouldn’t have fallen. Obviously.) in the months leading up to the burnout; they’d begun as soon as they saw the first sign of the incoming destruction. Like when it suddenly began to be cool, save when the solar flares lit up the night in an explosion of blinding fire and burning heat. Or when the plants on the outside began to wilt, unable to cope with the lack of sun. Even now, the only plants were in the greenhouses and dedicated spaces, the outside a place of tarmac and rocks breaking into desert sand and all-consuming dust when you reached the outskirts.
It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. The cities were beautiful. Every home had an intricate clock face in the front, engraved with elaborate designs and given silver hands that sparkled in the light of the street lamps. The lamps were plaited iron rods growing up from the ground and bent over, with the shining gold bulb powered by the cogs whirring softly in the back. Even here in Manchester, which was rather… poverty-stricken, it was a heavenly view to look out on come midnight.
9th October 2910
Dearest Harper,
Don’t be such a drama queen. We all know that the sun falling isn’t that much of a disaster. I know for a fact that you’ll be there in the library fixing it. Mother was always shouting about you spending too much time in there - don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.
You’re right, by the way; you are lax with the writing and visiting. I wish you would visit. It’s lonely here. The people I thought were my friends abandoned me in favour of the stronger ones who could protect them.
Even if you cannot forgive me, cannot bear to look upon me, I hope you remember that I am, and will always be,
Your loving brother,
Mason.
Mason paced his cell. Despite what he’d told Harper a week ago, the sun falling was... alarming. Gripping the bars of his window, he strained his eyes as he tried to look outside; the sky was a deep blue, the kind that was far more becoming of the late-night than midday, barely lit by the stars twinkling a thousand miles apart from each other, and the gnarled, rusting street lamps that flickered, sporadically flooding the cracked pavement with washed-out light. He turned away at a sound.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming down the corridor.
“Hello?”
12th October 2910
Dear Sir or Madam,
I write to inform you of my intention to visit Mason Holman on 16th October.
Sincerely,
Harper Holman
“Mason?”
Harper entered timidly into the cell. Her brother leapt up to meet her, grinning from ear to ear. Despite her efforts to remain hard-hearted and stern, she couldn’t help a small smile, opening her arms wide for her baby brother to nestle in, as he had when they were children.
“I missed you,” Mason whispered into her shoulder. She nodded, squeezing him tighter and sniffing slightly.
“I’ve missed you, too. And now I fear I have left this too late.”
“Too late?”
Harper released him, staring at him in shock. “You mean you haven’t heard?”
Transcript of Granada Reports
11th October 2910
Our top story tonight: the world’s scientists announce that there is no viable way of returning the sun to the sky. Authorities have warned that the backup heat and light will fail within a week.
“So this is it?” Mason choked out. He swallowed heavily as Harper nodded, forcing out a laugh: “And here I was thinking you’d just wanted to visit.”
Harper shrugged. She played nervously with a capsule hanging at her hip. “I thought I might save you some pain.”
Search history of Harper Holman
15th October 2910
Cyanide
Chemical compounds - cyanide
How fast-acting is cyanide
“No!”
Harper recoiled as her brother shoved her shivering hand away. Looking nervously around for any guards his yell might have alerted - the last thing she needed now was to be caught - she grabbed his palm and pressed the pill in, closing his fist around it: “Just in case.”
Mason looked distastefully downwards. “Never.”
She shook her head. “You may reconsider. Keep it safe.”
He flushed it the moment she left.
Transcript of Granada Reports
17th October 2910
Our top story tonight: police are reporting a spate of suicides in the wake of the apocalypse. More at 10 tonight.
Daily Mirror
17th October 2910
Police are reporting a huge rise in suicide rates following the recent disaster. Pharmacies are now under strict orders to hand out prescriptions for a day at a time, but it has done little to curb the rise; black market drug dealers are thriving on the world’s panic.
One of the hardest-hit areas in the UK has been Manchester, where the high poverty and unemployment levels have left people desperate for a long time. Looting has become commonplace, but no one has the means to put a stop to it.
18th October 2910
Dear Mason,
Thieves broke in last night - our’s was one of the last rich-looking homes on the street. They took little, for I surprised them during their looting, but I fear they will return. In normal circumstances, I would have taken Mother’s ring to the bank, but I see little point in that now. I don’t know how much they tell you where you are, but the backup lights that were keeping the greenhouses working have failed. They have begun rationing, but I doubt it will help much.
I will miss you, Mason, when all this is over.
Farewell,
Harper
Transcript of Granada Reports
19th October 2910
Police found the body of the prominent mechanic Harper Holman in her home today. Her incarcerated brother had reported having concerns for her safety after he received what he describes as ‘a final farewell’ visit. He is reported to be heartbroken and declined to comment.
From Mason Holman’s notebook
21st October 2910
They let us all go today, Harper, because the food ran out. Won’t be long now, I’m sure. I don’t know what they plan to do - how will they bury everyone? You’d have figured out a way, I’m sure, but you can’t now because you’re buried yourself.
I miss you.
I wish I’d taken your gift.
Mason looked up at the dark sky, fingering the cold barrel of the gun he’d… acquired. Harper would have yelled at him for the theft, but she wasn’t here... He choked back a sob, tracing the engraving of her headstone. Of course she wasn’t - she was smart. Smarter than him. Still, it wasn’t too late to take her advice. He sucked in a breath, counting down as he raised the pistol shakily.
Three…
Two…
