Shut Down
My business partner and I were driving up to a project site, in the southeastern foothills above the Spokane Valley. In this atypical winter, we had little snow this winter, and today, the temperatures were in the high thirties. It was a little before eleven a.m.
The older full-sized blue and white Bronco, in four-wheel drive, was churning up the dirt road, a light muddy brown mess. Chunks of decomposed granite and mud were bouncing off the wheel wells as we finally reached literally, the end of the road.
The view was spectacular to the west, the whole valley floor stretched out to the city, about twenty miles away. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun quite bright.
To the south and east, tall fir and cedar trees marched up the peak, where I was surprised to see two teen age kids with snowboards in hand, walking down the slight slope above the Ford. It almost seemed like Spring.
“Hi!” They said as they came through the property. “We’re just going over the hill for better snow. Don’t mind us,” the older boy said. He was perhaps fourteen.
Ken, my partner, unloaded the plat map of the property, and the digital camera. Our task was to help the new owner/developer in siting the new home, a largish lodge-type structure that was to have the commanding view of both the mountain and the valley. I slogged up a small rise to the west, to better enjoy the view. The snow was only a few inches thick and patchy, over thawed topsoil and frozen subsoil. Ken took photographs with the camera, a little Sony that we’d had for a number of years. Due to the daylight, his eye was pressed up against the viewfinder, instead of using the LCD screen on the back. He was working on finishing a complete panorama when it began.
Within a few seconds, perhaps ten, things began to go dark. I turned and looked around and up, and saw the stars begin to appear, and the Sun, un-obscured by clouds in the clear January sky, turn a grey color. I could see a huge sunspot, just below and to the right of the center of the Sun, with my bare eye.
“What is wrong with this camera? I can’t see squat,” Ken said, his eye still pressed to the viewfinder.
“It’s not the camera. It’s the Sun. It’s shut down.”
He turned and looked up at it as well, I could still see him in the twilight, his blue shirt and a look that I knew I shared, neither he nor I would see our families alive again in this world. Resignation. Ken had a new son, only six months old or so, and a two year-old daughter and an exceptional wife. My wife and love of more than twenty years, was at home, my son at high school, my daughter at her middle school. I quickly tried to call my wife at home, and heard the garbled ring, and no answer.
I turned my head back to look again at the Sun. The single sun-spot had grown and multiplied to cover the disk. In the space of less than a second, the sun-spots seemed to fly away into darkness of space, like birds I thought, as the Sun itself changed from the pale grey of only moments before, to reddish-grey, then dark orange. There was literally no sound of any kind. Even the light breeze had stopped. I couldn't hear the cars in the valley below, either.
“Ken, it has been a pleasure knowing you.”
With that, things went black.
End
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TB2K Readers:
This was a dream that I had a couple of nights ago. I woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, thankful to God that it was not real.
I then went to work. It was a good day.
Tom S.
Copyright, 1-27-2006
My business partner and I were driving up to a project site, in the southeastern foothills above the Spokane Valley. In this atypical winter, we had little snow this winter, and today, the temperatures were in the high thirties. It was a little before eleven a.m.
The older full-sized blue and white Bronco, in four-wheel drive, was churning up the dirt road, a light muddy brown mess. Chunks of decomposed granite and mud were bouncing off the wheel wells as we finally reached literally, the end of the road.
The view was spectacular to the west, the whole valley floor stretched out to the city, about twenty miles away. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun quite bright.
To the south and east, tall fir and cedar trees marched up the peak, where I was surprised to see two teen age kids with snowboards in hand, walking down the slight slope above the Ford. It almost seemed like Spring.
“Hi!” They said as they came through the property. “We’re just going over the hill for better snow. Don’t mind us,” the older boy said. He was perhaps fourteen.
Ken, my partner, unloaded the plat map of the property, and the digital camera. Our task was to help the new owner/developer in siting the new home, a largish lodge-type structure that was to have the commanding view of both the mountain and the valley. I slogged up a small rise to the west, to better enjoy the view. The snow was only a few inches thick and patchy, over thawed topsoil and frozen subsoil. Ken took photographs with the camera, a little Sony that we’d had for a number of years. Due to the daylight, his eye was pressed up against the viewfinder, instead of using the LCD screen on the back. He was working on finishing a complete panorama when it began.
Within a few seconds, perhaps ten, things began to go dark. I turned and looked around and up, and saw the stars begin to appear, and the Sun, un-obscured by clouds in the clear January sky, turn a grey color. I could see a huge sunspot, just below and to the right of the center of the Sun, with my bare eye.
“What is wrong with this camera? I can’t see squat,” Ken said, his eye still pressed to the viewfinder.
“It’s not the camera. It’s the Sun. It’s shut down.”
He turned and looked up at it as well, I could still see him in the twilight, his blue shirt and a look that I knew I shared, neither he nor I would see our families alive again in this world. Resignation. Ken had a new son, only six months old or so, and a two year-old daughter and an exceptional wife. My wife and love of more than twenty years, was at home, my son at high school, my daughter at her middle school. I quickly tried to call my wife at home, and heard the garbled ring, and no answer.
I turned my head back to look again at the Sun. The single sun-spot had grown and multiplied to cover the disk. In the space of less than a second, the sun-spots seemed to fly away into darkness of space, like birds I thought, as the Sun itself changed from the pale grey of only moments before, to reddish-grey, then dark orange. There was literally no sound of any kind. Even the light breeze had stopped. I couldn't hear the cars in the valley below, either.
“Ken, it has been a pleasure knowing you.”
With that, things went black.
End
----------
TB2K Readers:
This was a dream that I had a couple of nights ago. I woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, thankful to God that it was not real.
I then went to work. It was a good day.
Tom S.
Copyright, 1-27-2006
