Apparently, all it took for humanity to push itself over the ledge and down towards their downfall were a few sentences here and there, granted, the words themselves were broadcasted across continents, outer space included.
Still, as Alex quietly sipped his tea and listened to some good old faithful jazz music, he belatedly realized perhaps relaxing like this wasn't exactly the normal and expected response oneself might have when confronted with the end of the world, being the leader of an American mafia gang notwithstanding.
But then again, Alex mused, what was the most appropriate response? Panicking in this kind of situation was the equivalent of a fish struggling under the iron grip of the butcher, fully knowing its time has come, and yet deluding itself into thinking it might yet have a chance to survive.
Following that same fish-butcher analogy, and put in understandable words, Alex and all of humanity were the fish in this situation, the butcher was nowhere to be seen, no one knew when the knife would descend, heck, no one even knew if there was a knife in the first place. It could be a hammer to the head, a bullet to the body, a cleaver to cleave in half.
The only thing certain in this situation though was that they were definitely on the cutting board right now.
And other than that, almost everything in this situation was undefined, hazy, and most importantly, unknown.
And humans, Alex mused furthermore, vehemently detested the unknown and the undefined. After all, that same vehemence was what pushed humanity in the field of science and industrialization; that same vehemence was what pushed us to discover and discover, label and organize and create society from when we were mere primal apes.
And ironically enough, Alex thought, that same vehemence against the unknown was the same thing pushing the people to quickly accelerate their eventual and assured destruction.
Alex suspected mass suicides on a global level along with nuclear warheads going off by those same suicidal dipshits who intended to take everyone along with them, not to mention the vandalism, murders, rapists, thievery, backstabbing and all in all general chaos that was happening all along.
Well, its not like he would be able to confirm his suspicions through the news, not since that news reporter shot herself in the head live on television, splattering shards of bone, meat and bits of brain matter all over her wide eyed co-worker and painting the wall behind corpse crimson.
Idly, Alex reached to his music speaker and switched the genre to something more upbeat this time.
Standing up, Alex went to his closet and picked his most fancy suit and donned it on, along with a silvery wristwatch. He brushed his hair gently and made sure everything was in order. At the end, Alex opted not to use a cologne.
Tying up his tie, Alex looked over himself in the mirror and made sure everything was in order. This was a special occasion, after all. He wanted his death to be one of dignity, of honor and pride. Sure, those things were materialistic and kind of useless in the grand scheme of things, especially in the face of death, but it gave Alex a peace of mind, ironically enough.
If there was any way he wanted to die, it was to go out dressed up as good as he could.
Alex smiled to himself as he sat down in his chair and he looked at his wristwatch.
4:09 P.M.
He took a deep breath, held it in for four seconds, and released it.
And as Alex sat there quietly, patiently waiting for his death and all of humanity, he idly wondered—no, idly wished he could have taken one last look at the sun and drank in all of its glory.
Alex blinked once, twice, and belatedly realized that darkness was creeping along the edges of his vision.
Oh.
Guess it is time, then.
Alex distantly thought about how grateful he was that his daughter had been long since dead before this.
That distant thought was his last.