Thursday was the beginning of the end. Lots of people held street parties. The government hadn’t caved to the pressure to make it a public holiday, but still, a lot of people called in sick. It’s historic times we’re living in, after all. The halfway point comes only once.
In the office Marcel put on the news and we all crowded around. They set the countdown for midday UTC, but really, the error bars on the halfway point are about six hours, so it’s kind of anyone’s guess. I noticed Jim hanging back a bit, hand over his nose and mouth like he was holding his breath. “How do you feel?” I asked.
“Like we’re eating into the last few minutes of sunlight,” he said quietly. I noticed his eyes were glistening. “You?”
“Me? I think we’re lucky to be alive. Here, now.” I gestured at the screen. “What are the chances of the halfway point coming in our lifetimes? While we’re here to understand it? It’s astonishing. It’s like the universe knew we’d be here.”
Huw Edwards was on the screen, gravely talking about thermodynamics and gravity. Someone had muted it so it looked more like he was trying desperately to do mental maths. Diagrams and photographs of space slid past behind him, randomly, a sort of poorly put together science fair show ‘n’ tell.
“I just... I know it’s not rational, right?” Jim blinked rapidly. “I know the universe was there for fourteen billion years before I came along. We came along.”
“Thirteen point seven,” I said.
“Ok. And obviously I’m not gonna be around in another thirteen point seven billion years to see it end. But... it feels personal, doesn’t it? Like our best days are behind us. Salad days, whatever.”
I watched Huw struggle with a particularly knotty diagram purporting to explain general relativity with bowling balls. “We still have all that time,” I said. “So much time. Aeons of it. Bucketloads of it.”
“Shedloads.”
“Truckloads.”
“Yeah.”
We were quiet for a bit. One minute to go. Marcel unmuted. The camera had switched to a view of the crowd on the South Bank, teeming with excitement.
Ten... nine... eight...
There were going to be fireworks, even though it was the middle of the day. The waiting crowds in Sydney and Tokyo would get a better view.
...four... three... two...
For an instant, everybody was awake and everybody had the same thought in their head.
...one.
Nothing.
We all looked at each other. Nobody had brought champagne or anything. We were all off back to work afterwards, so why bother?
Over on the news the fireworks went off, but Marcel switched the stream off altogether, leaving the office silent but for the sound of distant car horns. Henderson muttered something about getting back to work and one by one we all peeled off awkwardly. Jim and I were the last to go.
“Any different?” I said.
“No,” he said.
“You’re still young, anyway,” I said.
“Older than you. Less time than you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Statistically.”
“Still not old.”
“Old enough to know better.”
“Old enough to need a kick up the arse. To start making good use of the time you have left, instead of moping.” Jim didn’t reply to that.
I kicked at the floor. “Hey... wanna skive off and get a coffee?”
Jim thought about it a while. “I do, yeah.”
As we left I said, “I think it’s better this way, anyway.”
Jim looked at me oddly. “What way?”
“You know, the halfway point. From here on the universe is contracting, right? And in thirteen point seven billion years it’ll reach a singularity again. Back where we started.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But there’s no reason it needed to be like that. If the laws of physics had been a little different, it would’ve just kept on growing and growing forever. I did it at A level. Instead of enthalpy, the dominant quantity would be entropy. Just rising and rising forever until there’s everything is cold and dark and one by one all the stars have winked out.”
Jim shivered. “You’re right. Maybe this isn’t so bad.”