Concert at The End of The World

Part One: The Stage

The roof was gone

What was originally a high ceiling with beams and chandeliers was now replaced with the sky – it spread vast and expansive, black and soft, speckled with stars that shone brightly, unblinking.

Underneath the open sky, the concert hall buzzed with voices; not excitement but of something different, just as palpable but quieter. It was of grief, and it hung heavy in the air. The curtains rustled and a voice rang out before the spotlight came on– smooth, tired but loud and steady enough to quiet the hall of its murmurs

“It started with the fiery mountains that would not stop gaping and the flames on the oceans that would not stop burning. There was nothing we could do. The world surrendered slowly — inch by inch, continent by continent. It took everything in its wake. It took the animals and then it stole the air from our lungs”

The speaker stepped forward from behind the curtains into the lone light directed at the stage. It was a slim figure in a red velvet suit, with one lapel singed off. She stood tall, her face enchanting and it was the first sight of the night and it was a miracle to be able to see a face so beautiful in a world on fire.

“It was a war lost already, and we were too blind to see it. All our interventions and technologies could not save us.” She looked around, her eyes sad and piercing. A few wails rang out in the hall, prompting a tear from her, but she continued speaking.

“But in spite of it all, we are here; the last front, with the ground cracking open beneath us and as the seas fold in on themselves, we have gathered regardless. To bear witness to all that we are now; all that time will remember us as.” Her voice was lower as she continued now, but the hall was so quiet, every breath she drew echoed loud.

Applause rippled through the crowd. It all felt ironic, welcoming the beginning of the end with applause and open eyes. Her lips curled into a sad smile.

“Welcome, everyone, to the concert at the end of the world.”

Part 2: A conversation at the concert at the end of the world

A packed hall in a building missing a roof. The room is buzzing with voices. Some of excitement, others of confusion.

M(groaning): Do you have any idea what time it'll start?

Q: No. I don't. Be patient

M: But they said twelve. It is now (checks watch) two

Q(laughing): I guess some things never change even if it's the last concert at the end of world

M: You would think people would finally learn to keep to time. Not like there's much of it left anyways.

Q: Can you blame them? It's the last performance of the world. Our final curtain call, our closing hurrah or whatever. How is anyone supposed to prepare for it and be on time?

M: Well it's not like the end snuck up on us? Scientists have been talking about it for years. We just didn't listen.

Q: Yes...yes. But they said the animals would die, the air would become too toxic to breathe. No more bees blah blah blah. No one said anything about the world burning beneath us.

M: True. Or the oceans setting themselves on fire. It would have been nice to have a heads up about that

Q(sighs): Right? That would have been nice

The hall dims

M: Oh quiet, it's starting. It's starting. I can see a spotlight shh!

Q (laughing) :I can see that. Shh yourself

A hush spreads over the hall. The voice from the opening lines echoes across the room.

Applause fills the air

M: Same woman from the broadcast?

Q: Hm hm...still so stunning even in a burnt suit

The announcer walks out of the stage and another woman walks in. She looks young but not young enough to be a teenager. She wears a long white dress that rustles loudly in the pin drop silence of the hall

M (barely breathing): Fuck this is really happening

Q (whispers) : Yeah…fuck

Part 3: The Concert

Ayo bounced on her feet in a mixture of agitation and impatience as she looked around the packed stadium, craning her neck to get a better view of the faces milling into the space. She had been waiting for him for an hour, and she was starting to think he wouldn't show up. Granted, it hadn't started yet and probably wouldn't start for another 20 minutes but just this once, it wouldn't kill him to be early because everyone needed all the time they could get.

She sighed in exasperation and flopped back into her seat as numerous thoughts raced through her mind. Why wasn't he here? Had he decided not to come? He couldn't have been caught up doing anything; there wasn't really much of anything left to do. Had something happened? He couldn't have… the news said most of the total burnouts had happened in Asia and the parts of Africa that had burnt out were in the south. Lagos was still holding; granted by a thread but they were here still. She groaned under her breath and shook her head. He would be here. He sent an email asking her to be here with him so he had to have escaped to Lagos.

Ayo jolted in her seat as a pair of heavy hands rested on her shoulders from behind, then she hissed in annoyance. “Hey Ayo” a voice said beside her face so she could hear him above the noise. She rolled her eyes trying to hide how she visibly relaxed at the sound of his voice.

“Hi Jindu” she said as he swung his legs over the chair and settled into the seat next to her.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked as people continued to take their seats everywhere around them.

Ayo hummed in response

“You're late,” she added .

“I'm not. It hasn't even started yet” He replied with a tone of amusement in his voice.

“I don't know why they haven't. It was supposed to start by midnight. It is now two.” Ayo countered, her eyes trained on the people who had now finished setting up the stage on the field. They moved somehow too slow and too fast and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

“Well I guess we have no choice but to wait” Jindu said, shrugging.

“It would be good if they didn't waste any of the little time we had left,” Ayo replied, finally bringing herself to look at his face. She hadn't seen him in seven years and he looked exactly the way he looked that day when they said their goodbyes in the airport.

“You look the same” she said, her eyes roaming over his features, lingering on the heart-shaped birthmark on his left cheek and her heart squeezed at the memory of all the nights she spent kissing his face over and over; nights when they thought they had more of all the time in the world.

“Thank you for coming” He whispered as the lights dimmed in the hall.

Ayo parted her lips to reply but stopped. He knew what she wanted to say. He knew she would have crossed burning zones to get to him. Her breath seized in her throat as a familiar voice cut through the air. It was the woman from the broadcasts; the voice of Lagos through the end announcing the start of the show.

Ayo only felt like she could breathe again as the woman walked off the stage to thunderous applause.

Another woman took her place, this time floating in a dress so white, she looked like a ghost. Around her, everyone including Jindu leaned forward in their seats, desperate to feel one last thing. Ayo stayed perfectly still.

The woman didn't speak right away. She just stood there, letting the silence expand until it became a noise of its own and then she spoke:

“There's no need to know my name. In days, it will not matter. None of our names will but until then, I offer you this: How to Take Care of Yourself When The World is Burning”

She paused to take a breath and for a moment, Ayo thought she might cry but she did not

“First, we were born in a house on top of a furnace and by the time we saw the smoke, it was too late. Please know that the world has always burned. It just burned differently in the beginning but a fire is a fire.

Second, remember to drink water. Not because it would save you but because you need all the ease you can get

Third, rest. Not in the way you rested before, not in the anticipation of doing something, but rest because you have done enough.

If you have music, let it play. Dance even now. Dance especially now. Laugh till it echoes in the halls of your mind and offer yourself your memories as respite.”

The woman's voice was steady but not rehearsed, every word rang out fervent like a prayer and maybe it was. Ayo thought: if there was a time to pray, it was now

“If you're angry, it is okay. If you have loved too hard or not at all, it is okay

And my goodness if you're scared, if you're frightened, unable to pick your head up and look to the falling sky, it is okay. We all are”

As she said her final words, her head fell forward and you could not see her face but by the shaking of her shoulders, Ayo could tell– everyone could– that she was letting her tears fall.

The concert stretched on. Everything found a home on that stage. This was an attempt at seeing everything one last time. Voices rose and fell, instruments creaked and groaned, babies were brought on stage to laugh, to cry, to laugh. Bodies danced like every motion mattered because every motion did. Some acts made Ayo's chest ache, others made her mind wander. Sometimes the music was too quiet, other times it was too loud and it rang in her head, but her eyes remained glued to the stage.

Time stopped mattering. Ayo could not tell if two hours or five hours had passed but she could see the unusually bright orange glow that had now come to signify sunrise creeping in. Her exposed arms had begun to glisten with sweat . Jindu's shoulder bumped against hers every now and then but neither of them turned to one another or spoke. There was too much and nothing to say all at once

Then it was time for the orchestra– the final act.

Dozens of figures walked onto the stage from within the crowd. They wore mismatched tones of blacks and greys, some barefoot, others with bandaged feet. Ayo thought they looked like dice. As they arranged themselves in their seats, the stage lights flared a little brighter and for a second you almost couldn't tell that outside, the world was on fire.

When they began to play, it did not sound like a final performance; it was high, hopeful like the beginning of a beginning. They played madly and every note bloomed wild as it rang out. The strings cut through the grief in the room and the drums rumbled deep beneath Ayo's ribs. The music wasn't neat, it could even have been termed discordant if the world still cared about its prim little boxes but the music was alive. Everyone was reminded that they were still here even if just for a minute.

Ayo's hand found Jindu's on the armrest and they clasped in a tight grip. Her eyes darted everywhere on the stage, not daring to blink for fear that she might miss something important. She could feel Jindu's knee bouncing but his eyes– just like hers – remained fixed on the stage.

As they sat in that hall with the notes rising to a crescendo, it was easy to forget what waited for them outside. Easy to pretend like the world wasn't turning to ash, the oceans weren't boiling, that the very sky was not falling on them all. Ayo wanted to freeze the moment, she wanted to remember it as the second where everything felt okay.

The performance ended as the sun came up. The sounds simply dissolved into the air, cloaking everyone with a heavy quiet. There was no applause.

Ayo's face was wet with tears and that was when she finally turned to meet Jindu's eyes. He was already looking at her, his tear stained face mirroring hers.

And then the lights went out

“That's it?” Jindu whispered, his voice shaky

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded standing up

“That's it”