Happy New Year

Dylan exits the party, retreating to his office. He strides up to the window and looks out across the city skyline, lit up by all the fanfare of hundreds of parties on the ground and in the castles of a modern world.

Dylan sips his champagne, feeling its taint make his mind feel soggy and dull. He hears the party below him, as the throng begins counting down from ten, all in a drunken unison. He glances back, and then returns his gaze to the horizon. He watches to see a sphere in the distance slowly descend down a pole perched in the center of Time’s Square. He checks his watch, and then takes a final sip from his glass. A smile creeps up onto his face in anticipation, but he keeps it confined to a slight smirk.

Dylan hears the chanting from below reach “one,” and in that second, he closes his eyes as if to take in the most moving piece of a symphonic experience. Even beneath his eyelids, he sees the flash, blinding in its intensity. He imagines people dying in the streets, millions of lives feeling the all-consuming fires, and the unbearable pain of a violent death. Satisfaction washes over him in a wave that is awesome in its scope and palpability. He opens his eyes. He gazes at the world. And he smiles. “Zero.”

“The purpose of life is to end.”

--Smith

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