They engineered extinction. The children inherited the Earth.
A genetically tailored virus was meant to cleanse the world. It did. Now, in the ruins of civilisation, a handful of children—immune, innocent, and marked by difference—tend gardens, sing songs, and carry the last flicker of humanity.
As the final survivors fall, one scientist must decide whether to save what remains or vanish with the old world. What blooms in the dome is not just survival—it’s something new.
New Eden is a haunting, redemptive tale of catastrophe and compassion, where the end of one world becomes the fragile beginning of another.
Brexit readjustment!
So glad to see that Labour is beginning to put right the disastrous Brexit put together by shit-for-brains Farage, Johnson and the ridiculously extreme ERG.
That deal is estimated to be costing us £37 billion a year – enough to put right our schools, health service and equip our army!!
It was the stupidity of Farage and Johnson with millionaire Tice that created the full out hard Brexit. They never had a mandate. With such a tiny majority they had a mandate for a soft Brexit at best.
If we had left the EU but stayed in the Single Market and Customs Union we wouldn’t be in the broken mess we’re now in!!
How stupid do you have to be to fall out with your neighbours and deliberately put up barriers to trade with our biggest trading partners?? PRETTY DAM STUPID!!
We can see what is happening with the moron Trump who is also putting up isolationist trade barriers!
Brexit has been an unmitigated disaster that has broken our public services and deliberately made us all a lot poorer!!
Where are all these wondrous sunny uplands? The superb trade deals? NO BLOODY WHERE!!
We could have pulled out of the political side of the EU and taken back our sovereignty without shooting ourselves in the foot and destroying trade!
Thank heavens we are removing trade barriers, thawing relationships, enabling easier travel, cutting red tape and boosting our economy.
Of course the imbeciles in the Tory and Reform Parties will whine! They are the idiots that fucked it all up in the first place!
New Eden – A SF novel – Welcome to the dome and its wonderful children.
When I wrote this book ebola had reared its ugly head and the idea of an ebola pandemic was a possibility. This was well before covid. An ebola pandemic would have been much worse. Fortunately that was contained.
The threat set me thinking. We have known terrible plagues in the past. Some viruses are lethal. We were lucky with covid. Bubonic plague or smallpox was far worse. The next one might be something new; some virus for which we have no immunity. It could wipe us out.
That set me thinking. Unscrupulous governments, amoral scientists and various scenarios. Who might be immune?
Welcome to the dome and the delightful children with their genetic disorder. Welcome to the future. Welcome to New Eden. A survival novel.
New Eden: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798637512867: Books
For Trevor life outside the dome was unimaginable. He did not even think about it. He liked the beauty of the big dome as it arced overhead. Sometimes he would stand right up to it and peer out. There were great blocks of apartments out there with walkways and pedistreams with hundreds of thousands of people all moving off into the distance looking like ants in their different coloured identical suits. He liked to watch them all purposefully trickling down from the blocks every morning to feed into the throngs packing the pedistreams to be whisked off to distant places but he did not wonder why or where they were going or what they might be doing when they got there. He liked the patterns they made.
Then in the evening he would watch it seemingly go in reverse as the people trickled off the packed pedistreams back to the apartment blocks. The system was always packed but in the mornings and afternoons the exaggerated movement created patterns that he found mesmerising.
Today Mike was playing with him on the apparatus. Trevor loved Mike. Mike would tickle him and know just how to make him squeal. Mike was so clever. He always urged him to do more. He could get from one end of the bars to the other now. It was easy peasy. None of the girls could do that; not even Jelphi and she was very daring. Jelphi would jump right from the top. Trevor did not think he could do that yet without hurting himself though Jelphi did not seem to find it hard. But Jelphi couldn’t get to the end on the bars!
Mike taught him how to dangle down from the top with his knees, and how to climb the rope, and how to swing. Mike taught him everything and Mike gave the best cuddles ever, even better than Dr Angstrom or Daddy, though probably not quite so good as Mummy. Mummy was so soft and warm and she smelt good. Mike didn’t smell like that. Mummy was coming soon. He was looking forward to that.
Trevor climbed to the top and balanced. He knew Mike would catch him if he fell. He waved to the girls and Anwar waved back. Anwar was his favourite. He loved Anwar. They often played mummies and daddies. When he was old enough he would marry Anwar. They had already decided. Jelphi and Mardra would be their bridesmaids. They had all talked it through. Dr Angstrom and Mike seemed to find it very funny when they had told them.
‘I want to plant seedlings,’ Trevor said.
‘OK, come on down then,’ Mike said.
Trevor launched himself into Mike’s arms and he caught him and swung him round. It felt so good.
Dr Angstrom watched as the peals of laughter rang round and Trevor was deposited on the ground to awkwardly run across to the girls with Mike in pursuit, arms outstretched and fingers making tickling movements. It was a strange quirky type of run the children had; it was like a canter, with heels kicking out sideways. It looked awkward but there was poetry to it.
Trevor arrived at the garden and instantly there was a transformation. The fun evaporated to be replaced by a look of wonder. Trevor delicately picked up one of the seedlings off the trolley and was studying it with awe. Mike stood back with hands on hips and watched. Trevor held the tiny plant up close to his face and studied it closely as if he had never seen one before. Delicately he stroked a leaf with his forefinger. Everything about it seemed to fill him with curiosity.
When he had drunk it in he gingerly made his way over to the prepared patch where the girls were carefully planting the cabbage seedlings. None of them talked but they all beamed at Trevor as he joined them. The children shared an almost telepathic empathy. You could feel the vibes that flowed between them. They projected a warm glow as if they were surrounded with a bubble of emotional well-being. Trevor was carrying the plant in its fibrous pot as if it was a most precious piece of ancient porcelain – and in many ways it was. For the population outside, the idea of actually growing vegetables like this would have been unthinkable, something only seen on history programmes on the vee-dee. Nothing in their world outside the dome approximated to real food, nothing the mass of people ate bore any resemblance to real vegetables. Their food might resemble meat and vegetable in shape, texture and even taste but nobody was under any misapprehension regarding that. They all knew it was produced from the same mycoprotein processed to order. If they had been able to see through the mirrored surface of the Plexiglas dome that mysteriously sat in their midst they would have been astounded. To have that amount of space and real plants was almost unimaginable. Not that they ever thought much about the presence of what appeared to them to be a large mirrored dome. It wasn’t their place to wonder on such things.
The girls moved aside to allow Trevor through. He crouched down and gently placed the seedling on the soil. They watched intently as he stroked one of the leaves and lovingly traced the outline of its venation with a rapturous expression of unadulterated joy. All the children seemed to share in each others delight as if connected. Nobody was more empathic than a Mickel’s child.
Mardra handed Trevor the dibber and he carefully used it to prod a hole into the soil, pulling it from side to side to enlarge the cavity until he judged it was wide and deep enough to receive the fibrous cone of the root-ball. Trevor handed the dibber back to Mardra and lifting the plant up he carefully studied it once more before reverentially placing it in the hole he had prepared. He then judiciously patted the soil down around it and Jelphi stepped forward to water it with her little watering can.
Then they all stood back as if a special ceremony had taken place. The carers looked on with quiet admiration.
Mike clapped and they all beamed up at him.
Langston Angstrom pulled his eyes away from the joyful scene. You’d imagine the children had made a major discovery from the excitement generated and not merely planted a cabbage. He could watch them all day but that would never do. They were so adorable it was contagious but there was work to do.
The Best Disaster novel … ever!! New Eden – A Sci-fi novel
What does the world government do about the horrendous overpopulation crisis? They come up with a simple solution to rid themselves of the unwanted! What can possibly go wrong?
New Eden: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798637512867: Books
The Beginning
The United Nations building rises up like a great glass slab alongside the East River in Manhattan. From a distance it is fanciful to imagine it resembling the monolith that Arthur C Clarke summoned up in 2001 A Space Odyssey. It too represents the hope for mankind’s future.
This is the organisation that spawned the magnificent document ‘The Universal Declaration of Human Rights’ in which the optimistic dreams of the world were enshrined. This was the world community’s apotheosis, and all that was required was the funding, power and will to put it into operation.
Unfortunately those ideals were never realised.
Within this building the General Assembly, representing all nations of the planet, meets regularly to discuss the issues and crises that threaten us. Within this building the Security Council also meets regularly. Their brief is to ensure peace throughout the world. They look for non-violent means for addressing conflicts and settling disputes.
It is not difficult to see that the United Nations has limited success when it comes to creating peace and resolving crises. The world has never been more fraught.
Unbeknown even to those members of the General Assembly and Security Council there is another body which also meets at regular intervals. The Strategic Planning Committee – the SPC – has no official standing. It is not recorded in any documentation, reports to no-one and to all intents and purposes does not exist. Yet this body, made up of members of the G7, has a huge remit and great powers. It operates to its own brief – to look for alternative methods for dealing with global issues. It is not subject to the same strictures, operates through clandestine facilities and can deploy a huge budget. It operates under military jurisdiction and protocol.
There are not even rumours of its existence. Yet it exists.
Beneath the United Nations building there is a committee room. It is reached by means of a number of circuitous routes all carefully protected, guarded and sealed, culminating in a single entrance by way of an elevator.
The room itself is extremely ordinary. The round circular walls look dour but conceal the largest array of devices ever assembled. The surfaces are polymer screens for projecting information. The screening devices are exceptional and updated by the hour. Even the seemingly austere mahogany-look table is really an array of extremely high tech facilities but they are only visible when required. The furnishings are almost non-existent, consisting of the single round table of standard dark polymer, with seven comfortable chairs. The purpose of the venue is discussion.
This is where the clandestine decisions that affect the whole world are really made. Above them in the chambers the business is relatively mundane compared to this. In the bubble of their national governments these seven people carry out the day to day intrigues of parochial politics but they all know that the global perspective is decided here. And their instructions come from another higher source.
The group is presided over by President Paul Shank of the USA and consists of the seven Heads of what used to be known as the G7. This assembly was created long ago and shaped by a group of extremely rich and influential figures who have always pulled the strings behind the various governments of the world. They operate globally and utilise their power group to manipulate events and markets. History is largely the result of their various interventions. The fact that the G7 expanded to incorporate Russia, China, India and Brazil to become the G11 has had no impact on this select group. They, or rather their instigators, did not feel the need to expand. Neither is it likely to respond to circumstances should the Arab and African countries succeed in their pressure to be included in the G11. The SPC has a historical basis and is happy to keep it that way. They have no wish to become big and unwieldy and descend into a talking shop like the other bodies. They have no desire to include the others in their deliberations. Especially those they have never trusted. Seven is big enough. Here they can speak honestly and openly without fear of repercussions. Rather ironically they informally called themselves ‘The Synod’ fully aware of the significance of the word. There was nothing religious about them but they made the decisions that shook the planet.
They have the strongest power in the world behind them. The current discussion had been focussed on the burgeoning world population with the horrific implications now being predicted.
God’s Bolt – Extract – Sci-fi with a difference
Helen is alone on the space station having witnessed the world destroyed by an asteroid, trying to come to terms with the realisation that she is the lone survivor.
God’s Bolt: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9781092713597: Books
Year 2178 – Impact day plus 1
I was in shock. My brain was not functioning. That hurricane of searing thought had ripped my mind to shreds. It had left me hollow, burnt out. I was empty. The inner storm had reamed me out. I was an empty shell. I simply could not take in what I had just witnessed. It could not possibly be real. It was all gone. In a few seconds everyone I had ever loved, everything I had known was gone. I was left here all alone. I would never see anyone again. I was on my own.
How could that possibly be?
It was not possible. I could not react to it because it could not be happening.
Somehow I wanted to rewind. I wanted it to be like it had been.
My rational mind had watched the spectacle take place. Some more primitive part of me did not believe it. I knew that it was not real. If I activated the communicator I would find the truculent voice of Brad Noone at the other end. I’d share some sweet talk with Happiness Ntobe and swap jibes with Neil and Janice. They were all still sitting in that control centre just like they’d been when I last saw them, just like they always were. My parents were still in our home in Sussex. It was surrounded with green trees. If I called they’d welcome me in and hug me. My brothers and their families were still there in their homes with their families. They would tag me in a minute just to check in. They did that. They liked to rib their little sister and make sure she didn’t get too cocky up there in space. The rainforests were still there. All those animals that had been nurtured so carefully. All those conservation projects. They couldn’t have all disappeared. Everything was just the same. It had to be. How could it possibly be gone?
I was trapped in this unreality, this fantasy that was whirring round in my head on a loop, carefully avoiding the reality of what had happened, not daring to touch the raw ends of the truth. Because if I just touched that, those things too terrible to think about, it would unleash that fury in my head again. It would release that monster and it would eat me up alive. I could not allow that to happen. I could not. I refused to accept it.
It could not possibly have gone. All I had to do was activate the communicator. They would answer just like they always did. It always worked. If I picked up the communicator we would connect and it would be just like it always was.
But I did not activate the communicator.
I don’t know what happened to time. From the moment that first impact had hit, it had all gone weird. The whole world around me had faded away. I was in some kind of bubble. It was a dream. That hurricane of fire in my head was not real either.
I could not think. My mind refused to work.
I kept reliving that impact in my head. It was like I was putting it in a microscope to examine it in detail. The great crimson gouge. The livid orange. The great splash of magma. The huge spume of livid flame that had engulfed the planet. I think I was trying to relive it so that it worked out differently. I wanted those missiles to nullify that menace. I wanted it to be just how they had assured me it would be. But every time I played it through in my head it was always the same. That great shudder. That silent explosion. The roar in the communicator and then nothing. Always the same.
But it had to be different.
I stared for hours at the billowing orange clouds. The Earth used to be green. This couldn’t be the Earth. This could surely not be the Earth. How was it possible? I think I was waiting for those livid clouds of superheated ash to settle and the clouds to part to reveal the Earth as it had been.
A part of me knew that was never going to happen. But I refused to accept it.
I ached. I ached in my arms and my upper body. My guts ached. It was liked I had been punched, used for a punch bag. It was the tension. I was screwing myself up. But I could not relax. My muscles were screwed into knots.
I wanted scream. I could not help prodding the monster in its lair. I could not. I could feel it all building up inside like an inner shriek that had no voice. It was tearing around in my head but could not find the exit, could not get out, whirling like a cyclone. I could not think. It was eating me alive. I was being ripped apart in a cacophony of disbelief, fury and outrage.
WHY ME!!! WHY FUCKING ME!!! Out of 4 billion human beings why was I the only one stuck on this fucking station? All alone. Why did I have to witness that? WHY ME?? All the people I knew – DEAD!! Everything I loved! EVERYTHING!! Why couldn’t I have been consumed in that fire along with all the rest??
The silent shouting in my head was building into a cacophony.
Eunice was prattling on at me. She was chiding me. I was not following my routine. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t sleeping. My stats were all over the place. But I didn’t really hear her. Her words just washed over me. Stupid machine! I didn’t want any fucking machine!! How did a lump of metal know anything? I wanted Jomo to take me in his arms and tell me it wasn’t real that it had never happened.
Every now and again I would calm down and try to rationalise it.
That first impact had done it. It was too big for anything to survive. I knew that.
The livid orange clouds had already covered the whole face of the planet when the other four huge meteorites had struck. Each one blowing another huge explosion up through the boiling atmosphere, flinging fresh magma skywards from the core of the planet, smashing tectonic plates, gouging out massive craters, unleashing flowing sheets of lava, flinging yet more ash into the seething atmosphere, unleashing vast heat to add to the devastating power.
Each one was probably sufficient to do the job. Five was overkill.
All the time that monster was raging in my head – just out of reach, subdued, held back but threatening to break through again and tear me to shreds. I was using all my strength to hold it back. It would just take one little thing for it to break through again. I was alone. I WAS FUCKING ALONE FOREVER!!
God’s Bolt – Paperback – A Sci-fi novel with a difference
In this little extract Helen, alone on the space station is witnessing the end of the Earth with the realisation that she is completely alone – the last human being.
I wanted to write a novel that started at the end and only had one character. This was the scenario I conceived. It was a challenge.
God’s Bolt: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9781092713597: Books
Extract
I forced myself not to give in to hysteria. Once I’d started down that road there was no telling where it would end. But once those thoughts were born they could not be unborn. I kept feeling what it was like for a wall of searing heat to vaporise a human being. That is what had happened 4 billion times.
Despite the logic of my own eyes I kept imagining that somewhere down there, perhaps in a submarine at depth, someone would have survived. But I knew that was impossible. The thin crust of the world had been fractured into a million pieces. The tectonic plates would have been ripped apart. I knew the science. I’d seen the magnitude of the impact. The magma was flowing freely, the oceans boiled. Nothing could have survived – at least no life of any sophisticated nature. I had no doubt that the extremophiles, the bacteria and algae adapted to extreme temperatures of volcanoes and underwater vents, would survive. In a billion years or so perhaps the planet would be green again and a new range of organisms would call the planet home. But what good was that to me?
Strangely I did not feel like screaming like they do in the tridee movies, though I thought that maybe I should. No tears came to my eyes, no swearwords to my lips. It was beyond all that. I was completely numb.
I think I spent hours, days, in a stupor just staring down at the raging planet and not registering a single thought. I did not eat or drink and not even Eunice’s chiding registered with me. My universe had been blown apart. Everything I loved was gone. I could not take it in. Somehow, despite the obviousness of the possibilities, I had not prepared myself for this. It was too big, too enormous. I still refused to believe it. Perhaps it would all settle down and be OK?
I was outwardly calm, though the inside of my head was raging as it futilely tried to absorb the facts. It was gone. The whole Earth was gone. They were all gone. I would never see anyone again – not anybody. I would never see green fields or blue skies ever again. I was on my own. I would spend the rest of my days in this Space Station, this cage, this hell. I would never see Mum and Dad, or Joe and Richard. They had been burnt alive, seared to a crisp. Everything was just ash. My friends and lovers were gone. They were seared with fire. Seared to cinders. Everything was destroyed, smashed, broken, burnt, consumed, swamped with magma, broken apart. There was nothing to heal. I was on my own. I was on my own. I was on my own. For the rest of my days I was stuck in this prison. I would never breathe proper air. I would never walk on the Earth’s soil. The silly thought came into my head and tore at me – my dog was gone. All dogs were gone. All animals were gone. They were flecks of heated ash in a hurricane of fire. Nothing could have survived. I was on my own.
My head was roaring like the atmosphere on Earth. My mind was raging like that hurricane on Earth. It was eating me up.
I think I was trying to shock myself into reacting, to feeling something. But the feelings would not come.
I stood mindlessly staring out at the ball of fire below me and that ball of fire was in my head. What it was doing to the planet it was doing to me – eating me alive. That naked molten lava was in my head burning my brains. It was agony. Those hurricanes of fire were burning up my thoughts, whirling them into raging whirlwinds of scattered meaningless thoughts. My sanity was whirling, spinning, tearing itself apart. It was a monster. It was something out of my worst nightmare but thousands of times worse!
It was all pointless, all hopeless. I could not face it. I could not face the future. I did not want to be alive. They were all gone. Why me?? WHY ME!!! I FUCKING DID NOT WANT TO BE ALIVE!! I WANTED TO BE WITH THEM!!!! I WANTED TO BE WITH JOMO!!!!
God’s Bolt – The ultimate ‘end of the world’ scenario.
This novel came out of the collision of two ideas. The first challenge was to see if I could write a novel with just one character and make it compelling. The second challenge was to start at the end and then work forwards towards that end. Could I retain tension and interest if the reader already knew the outcome?
I set my character on a space station witnessing the end of the earth as it was bombarded by a huge asteroid. I then set about describing the intrigue and incompetence that led to the disaster and found a reason to give my protagonist a reason to live.
This then was God’s Bolt.
My readers seem to enjoy it!
Extract – God’s Bolt
I was seated in the viewing gantry with Mission Control plugged in. The many tridee displays showed the scenes from a variety of sources both on Earth and out in space. I found myself flicking from one to the other. People in Mission Control were talking out loud, oblivious, commentators for various channels were babbling, it was all a background cacophony to me. The heavens were lit up with trails of meteors and the explosions of surface to air missiles – I knew that all our larger missiles had been expended.
By 10.35 p.m. my hopes were on an upward trend – it was beginning to look as if we were weathering the storm. My spirits were rising. I was beginning to think High Command had pulled it off. Then it happened. A huge ball of fire arced through the sky as various explosions blossomed around it but failed to make any dent on its progress. I watched in horror as it descended and scorched its way to the ground. I swear the whole planet shuddered when it hit. The strike was just inland of Washington. Even from this distance I could see the enormity of it. A great welt of livid molten rock, expanding swiftly to become what looked to be the size of a third of the entire country, was flung into the air as a broiling front of superheated air and dust radiated out at supersonic speed. The seething gasses rushed across the ground as crimson clouds were flung up into the upper atmosphere threatening to reach out into space itself and even engulf the space station.
I watched horror-struck and numb. Though I was so very far away the speed of the expansion of that livid cloud was staggering. It was consuming the rest of the continent at an alarming rate in a glowing storm while yellow fires blossomed into a huge swirling cloud above the impact site and huge lightning bolts raged. The Earth seethed with livid orange flame.
Around me the various channels roared and went silent as they too were consumed. Mission Control was amongst the last to go; based as it was two thousand miles away in London. My mind grappled with the horror of what I was witnessing. I could not conceive that Brad Noone, Happiness Ntobe, Neil Cox and Janice Cervantes along with that whole centre at Mission Control with all those dedicated staff, were gone. It was too much to take in. I could not allow myself to even think about Jomo and the others. I could not. That just could not be. I could not allow that. No!! No!! NO!! I shook my head in disbelief. This could not be happening. I squeezed my eyes tight shut.
Over the next three hours I watched silently in some strange unreality, dissociated and analytical, as the rest of the planet was consumed by the boiling sea of fire. Through the thick fiery skies I counted four further enormous impacts further north in what must have been the States, Canada and Siberia. It confirmed everything of my worst fears for me. The last of the stations from the other side of the planet went down. The whole world was silent now and gripped in that raging torrent of fire. From where I sat it looked as if the whole world had become a ball of molten rock, a superheated furnace.
The worst had happened.
All night I sat there watching the scene below waiting for it to sink in. Things had settled somewhat. The whole planet was now a glowing writhing ball of crimson and orange cotton wool. It now looked almost serene from up here but I could well imagine what it was like down there – the force of that blast and the heat of those winds. No matter how deep underground anyone had gone I knew there was no safety to be had. Nobody was surviving this event. This was every bit the extinction event the media had predicted. I kept telling myself that it had not really happened. This was one of those media simulations.
Somewhere down there my family and friends, the colleagues I had said goodbye to just days before, my lovers, they were all gone. Nobody could have survived. They were gone. I had watched the solid rock of the Earth’s crust ripple, fold and rupture releasing torrents of fermenting magma. That can’t have been real can it? It was a tridee. It was special effects. It could not possibly be real – could it? I could not imagine it so it couldn’t have happened. It was too enormous.
Strangely I felt like laughing. It was absurd. All that huge effort that had gone into conservation was wasted. All those precious plants and animals were gone. The ironic thought came into my mind that we had been killed by a surfeit of peace. If only we had not disarmed and done away with all those nuclear weapons. If only we had kept the missiles. We’d fallen victim to our own desire to become civilised. If this had happened a hundred years earlier we would have blown that huge chunk of metal into dust.
That was the ultimate irony.
I still could not really accept it. I did not believe what my eyes were telling me. It was not happening. I was not really watching it for real. This was nothing more than a sensational tridee programme.
It occurred to me that I was on my own. That was when it hit home. I was on my own. I would never see them again. I would never see anyone again. I was completely on my own.
God’s Bolt – A Sci-fi classic.
This is an unusual novel in two ways. I like imposing limitations on myself. I had the idea of attempting to write a novel featuring just one character (of course it did not quite work out that way). Secondly, I decided to write the end first.
This is a disaster story with a difference. We start with the disaster and then work our way up to it.
The challenge was to maintain the tension and involve the reader when they already knew the outcome. The responses I have received from my readers is that I achieved this.
This then is God’s Bolt – not so much the story of the destruction of our planet as a tale of human/political incompetence and our heroine Helen Southcote.
Chapter 1 – The End and the Beginning
Year 2178 – Impact day
I have never felt so utterly alone. A raging storm of nausea was gnawing at my belly as I began my routine morning broadcast – except that there was nothing normal about this one.
‘Good morning everybody,’ I said cheerily, putting on my best smile. ‘This is Helen Southcote beaming down to you from the United Nations International Space Station.’
I was totally unsure of the wisdom of continuing these tridee broadcasts, particularly on such an auspicious day as this. Who on earth was tuned in? Surely they’d all be in a panic, desperately seeking safety for themselves and their loved ones. Nobody would be at all interested in any platitudes from me. But the powers that be, in the form of mission controller Brad Noone, had assured me that it was necessary. The psychologists thought that it might help to continue with normality and reduce panic. Who was I to argue? They’d provided me with a script. I suppressed my anger and upset. Put aside my personal feelings about what had happened to my friends. The show had to go on. I was doing it for the kids, I kept reminding myself – it was for the kids.
‘The earth sure looks beautiful spread out there below me.’ I showed them images of the planet below me with its green seas and swirling white clouds.
With a lot of trepidation, which I hoped did not show too much, I turned my attention to the subject that was foremost in everybody’s minds. ‘Preparations are well underway to deal with the remaining threat from Chang’s comet,’ I assured them. ‘Missiles are poised to destroy the largest incoming rocks but President Khun Mae Srisuk has urged everyone to either seek sanctuary in the prescribed shelters or to evacuate to designated regions of safety. There are bound to be some meteorites that will cause some collateral damage. Better to be safe than sorry.’
I offered them one of my best smiles. The cheery tones sounded so phoney to me.
‘This promises to be one of the most spectacular shows you’ll ever see,’ I promised them. Be reassuring I’d been instructed – be upbeat. Lie. Even the most optimistic reports were predicting widespread damage across the United States, Canada and into Russia. The earth was going to be bombarded with the biggest deluge of rocks in recent history. Chang’s comet was a monster and even broken up as it was, presented a real danger to the survival of the planet. They just had to hope that this time the scientists had got it right and every single major threat would be neutralised. It was a big ask. They had not managed such a brilliant job up to now. This last ditch effort was to target all the remaining large rocks and pulverise them in the upper atmosphere so that the remains would burn up on entry. If all went to plan it was certain to be the most amazing display. The worry was that if a single one of those chunks of rock was missed……………….……….. well that didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Make sure you watch from safety!’ I chastised them. There were always some thrill seekers who sought to put themselves in danger. ‘As for me, well I’ve got the best seat in the house, a real grandstand view. UNISS will be in exactly the right place to record the whole sequence of events and you can bet that I’ll be relaying it to you live as it happens!’
I then proceeded to give them a dull and boring update on the various experiments taking place, the weather, solar activity and conditions in space. Normality. That’s what I’d been instructed to do.
‘This is Helen Southcote signing off until tomorrow. Be safe! See you soon’
‘Good job!’ Brad Noone intoned in his dulcet tones after I’d shut down. That was high praise coming from him.
‘Yes, Good one Helen,’ Happiness Ntobe added more enthusiastically. There was an element of wonder in her voice. She found it hard to believe that I’d pulled off such a jaunty performance in the face of such a terrifying prospect. I didn’t need telling. The mood back at Mission Control was one of great trepidation. It was tinged with fear verging on terror. They knew the real picture of what was coming and their confidence was not exactly riding high. Their minds were fixed on their family and friends. But I was a seasoned professional at the age of 33. I’d learnt to control my emotions. I’d been broadcasting for eight years now. I was used to it.
The rest of the day was mine and it lasted an eternity. Time dragged. I immersed myself in the routine of the station. I had to check on the work of all my absent colleagues; looking in on the horticulture work of Jeff and Bander’s, the weird zero G chemistry of Lynn and Izabel’s as well as my own work. I saved Jomo and Remi’s lab until last. That was still too painful. It set me crying. Then I did a check of the station security. All the time I was doing my rounds I kept up a running commentary with Eunice, the station’s computer, and the guys at Mission Control – Brad, Neil, Janice and Happiness. I think they were doing the same as me – desperately trying to occupy themselves, to take their minds off what was shortly going to be happening, at least the human components were. Eunice was just a chunk of metal, plastic and electricity. She had no mind. I don’t think it worked for any of us though. No matter what I was doing I kept getting images of a huge rock battering into earth and the planet being smashed to smithereens. I wished I’d never seen those damn sensationalist media images. Stupid, irresponsible rubbish. President Khun Mae Srisuk should have put a stop to it. They never should have gone out.
In the afternoon I resorted to putting the music on as loud as I could in order to drown out my thoughts and did my exercise routine with even greater ferocity than usual. Even that didn’t help though. Nothing could rid my mind of those images that were clogging up my head.
After an eternity, the twilight horizon crept over the edge of the planet and the coast of the United States of America crept into view. Despite the mass evacuations it was still lit up like a giant funfair. The sight of it sent chills through me. I could imagine the scenes in the cities below me. I’d seen the news reports. It was pandemonium. Impact was centred right over the Eastern seaboard. One of the most populated places on earth. I know they’d moved most people out but it still did not bear thinking about. I could imagine the huge throngs of superstitious religious lunatics – those who had called the event God’s Bolt and believed this asteroid was an act of God, sent to punish us for the sins of humanity – gathered on the hilltops praying to God and exalting him to spare them. Part of me desperately hoped they would prevail even though my rational self-ridiculed their foolishness and maliciously hoped a meteorite or two would land right among them and put an end to their nonsense.
Already the sky was lit up with a criss-crossing of orange streaks from the early vanguard of rocks liberated from the blasting of Chang’s Comet. They were harmlessly burning out in the heavens and putting on quite a display but one that was merely a precursor to the main show.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and it was nothing to do with the lack of gravity. I was a seasoned pro when it came to weightlessness. No – I knew the number of planet-busting rocks that were heading our way. Shortly we would see whether all the preparations had paid off. The closer it got the more anxious I was becoming. My head was full of doubts. I could sense the uncertainty that existed down there on Earth. If they were not convinced how could I be? I just hoped our depleted and unpractised military knew what they were doing and could neutralise the threat. Ironically I just hoped that the long decades of peace resulting in the run-down of all military weaponry had not completely emasculated them. My confidence was not super high. I knew we had very little left in the kitty to throw at the threat. I knew more than most of the magnitude of the operation; it was running more on hope than logic.
At 10.23 p.m. Eastern Time the main show began.
God’s Bolt: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9781092713597: Books
5.0 out of 5 stars Nice Story to Challenge Your Philosophy
Reviewed in Canada on 24 May 2022
SF writer Ron Forsythe gets to the story’s climax in the first chapter. A giant asteroid hits Earth, wipes out all life, and breaks up tectonic plates. Above the Earth is a space station, and in that space station is humanity’s last human, Helen Southcote.
From that climatic first chapter, Forsythe has story arcs alternating from before the collision to after the collision. In the end, we come to Helen’s decision.
The story moves nicely through its many time shifts. It is a relaxing read. A good way to kill some time.
But there is more. Forsythe has also put together at least 10 sub-themes for readers to question their values and society’s values. Forsythe touches on morality, religion, science & technology, war & peace, media, sociology, political science, and artificial intelligence. If this book finds its way into a book club, its members will have lots to talk about.
The sub-theme that grabbed my attention was the decision-making process from the world government to deal with the asteroid. The asteroid came up to Earth quickly. The government did not have much time to get the facts and prepare. Ad-hoc solutions were discussed, tried, and, in the end, did not work out. I think Forsythe is trying to tell us that, in the real world, many decisions are made with decision makers not too certain of their outcomes. They are just making their best guesses. I think there is a big lesson in that.
I highly recommend this book. It is both entertaining and can make you think.
Never Been Wrong!
Never been wrong
I asked Liz Truss if she’s ever been wrong.
She smirked like a demented twerp
With a face like King Kong
And slunk off to Trump
To sing his narcissistic song.
She said ‘I’ll be back! And it won’t be long!’
So I asked Rees-Mogg how does it feel?
He looked down his nose
As if looks could kill.
And casually burnt
A hundred thousand pound bill.
Said he’d have me roasted on a public school grill!
Well the Tory Party’s over
There’s vomit on the floor.
All the xenophobic bastards
Have been kicked right out the door.
They’re busy stuffing hay in lofts
So they’ll never be poor.
I look for justice
What is it for?
Should all be held accountable?
To settle up the score!
But there’s a great reckoning coming
They’ll see what’s in store!
They’ll be mighty retribution
Complete with death and gore.
I can hear the four horsemen coming
To sing the Armageddon roar.
Opher 5.7.2024
Ousted!! Off to make their millions!
They left us with the mess!
