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Xiaomeng picked up the remote and turned off the screen. She said, “Go to sleep. It’s not right that we’ve been staying so late here every night. Take time to rest. Who knows what sort of work is waiting for us.”

They returned to their own rooms in the NIT to go to sleep. Huahua turned off the light and lay down on his bed, but then took up his palmtop and went online to bring up the Epoch Clock. Easy enough, since it was displayed on practically every website. He stared at the rectangle as if bewitched and didn’t notice Xiaomeng come in. She took his computer. In her hands she held a stack of other palmtops.

“Sleep! When will you all learn some self-control? I’ve got to go room to room to confiscate these computers.”

“When will you stop acting like my older sister?” Huahua called after her when she went out the door.

* * *

A tremendous fear seized the children as they stood before the Epoch Clock, but they were comforted by the fact that the country was still running stably, like a huge, well-oiled machine. Data displayed by Digital Domain convinced them that they had taken the reins of the world, and that everything would continue just as steadily forever. The previous night they had even left the darkening clock to go to bed.

When they stepped into the hall on the morning of the fourth day, however, the children felt the heavy dread of stepping into a tomb. Dawn had not yet come to the dark hall, and the green light of the past three days had all but disappeared. Within this darkness they saw just one patch of green lights remaining on the Epoch Clock, like remote stars on a cold winter’s night, and it was only after turning on the room lights that they could breathe easier. No one took a step away from the clock the entire day. They counted the dots again and again as they dwindled in number, fear and sadness gradually tightening around their hearts.

“So they’re just going to abandon us,” a child said.

“Yeah. How can they do that to us?” someone else said.

Xiaomeng said, “When my mom died I was there with her, and I thought the same thing: How could she abandon me? I even started to hate her. But later on I felt like she was still alive somewhere…”

A child shouted, “Look, another one’s gone out!”

Huahua pointed at one of the dots. “I bet that’ll be the next one to go out.”

“What do you bet?”

“If I’m wrong, then I won’t sleep tonight.”

“It’s quite possible no one’s going to sleep,” Specs said.

“Why?”

“At this rate, the Epoch Clock’s going to run out sometime tonight.”

One by one, green dots vanished, quicker than ever now, and to the children watching it, the nearly dark clock was like a bottomless pit they were suspended over.

“The rails really are going to be left hanging,” Specs said to himself.

Close to midnight just one green star was left, a single point shining its lonesome light from the upper left of the Epoch Clock’s dark desert. The hall was deathly quiet, the children still as statues as they stared, waiting for the final tick. An hour passed, then two, but the green star shone stubbornly on. The children started to exchange glances, and then began to whisper among themselves.

The sun rose in the east and passed over the silent city before setting in the west, and throughout the day that green star remained lit.

By noon, a rumor had begun circulating in the NIT saying that an effective cure for supernova radiation had actually been developed some time ago, but it required so much time to produce that only a fraction of the demand could be met; the news was not made public so as to avoid chaos. The countries of the world had gathered their most talented individuals together and had treated them with the drug; the remaining green dot represented their final assembly point. Considered carefully, this scenario was not entirely impossible. They pulled up the final address from the UN secretary general and watched it again, noticing one line in particular:

“…Only when the Epoch Clock turns completely black will the children truly take over world administration, in a constitutional and legal sense. Prior to this, leadership power will remain with adults…”

It was an odd statement. It was perfectly possible for the adults to hand over power before departing for their final assembly points, so why wait until the Epoch Clock ran out? There was only one possibility: There was still hope for some people at some assembly point to survive!

By the afternoon, the children had become convinced of this theory. They eagerly watched the green star, as if looking toward a distant lighthouse on a treacherous night sea. They began searching for the location of that final assembly point, and thinking up ways to establish contact, but their search was fruitless. No clues concerning the assembly points had been left behind. They seemed to be located in another world. So the children had to wait, as night came in, unnoticed.

Late that night, on chairs and sofas under the soothing light of that undying green star, after a sleepless night and day, the children fell asleep, dreaming of a return to their parents’ embrace.

It began to rain, drumming lightly on the transparent floor-to-ceiling shell of the hall, enveloping the city and its scattered hazy lights down below, and running in rivulets down the outside walls.

Time moved forward, crossing the universe like a transparent fog, without making a sound.

The rain picked up, followed by wind, and eventually lightning flashed in the sky and thunder rolled, startling the children awake. Their shouts of alarm echoed in the hall.

The green star was dark. The last oak leaf of the Epoch Clock had gone out, leaving it an unbroken swath of black.

Not a single adult was left on Earth.

The rain stopped. A fierce wind swept the lingering storm clouds from the night sky to reveal the giant Rose Nebula, which shone with a severe, eerie blue light. When it struck the ground it turned silvery like moonlight, illuminating every detail of the wet landscape and washing out the city lights.

The children stood on the highest floor of the A-shaped tower and stared out into the cosmos at the blue glowing nebula, the solemn grave of an ancient star and the glorious womb nurturing the embryo of a new one, their diminutive bodies plated in otherworldly silver.

The Supernova Era had begun.

5

THE ERA BEGINS

HOUR ONE

SUPERNOVA ERA, MINUTE 1

The children stood at the transparent walls looking out at the magnificent Rose Nebula and the capital under its glow, considering in bewilderment the world that adults had left to them.

SUPERNOVA ERA, MINUTE 2

“Oh…” said Huahua.

“Oh…” said Specs.

“Oh…” said Xiaomeng.

“Oh…” said the children.

SUPERNOVA ERA, MINUTE 3

“So it’s just us left now?” Huahua asked.

“Just us?” Xiaomeng asked.

“Is it really just us?” the children asked.

SUPERNOVA ERA, MINUTE 4

The children fell into a deep silence.

SUPERNOVA ERA, MINUTE 5

“I’m scared,” one girl said.

“Turn on all the lights,” another girl said.