From May 20th, Tuesday, to May 21th, Wednesday

May 20th, Tuesday.

Little had changed in almost a month. Despite the meteor continuing its approach toward the planet, both life and collective hysteria had barely shifted. In fact, the main topic of conversation at school that day was a friendly soccer match between France and Brazil—possibly the last one in history.

"This class needs to end soon... I wanna watch the game..." said Nathan, nearly asleep.

"It won’t even be fun. Brazil’s team sucks," said Bernard.

"Yeah, but they’ve got a new chant."

"Yeah! They say the player’s name and then go ‘tá sem freio’, or 'got no brakes'. At least their hype game is still strong. Hey, what if we did that, but with people from our class?"

"Cool. I’ll do the beatbox."

"Bernard got no brakes, Nathan got no brakes, Jonas got no brakes, Brazil's team got no brakes!" Bernard sang while Nathan did the beatbox, and the class watched their innocent mischief. Some even joined in the chant, not even noticing that Dirce, the history teacher, had walked in.

"Bernard, the teacher’s here..." said a girl in a disapproving tone.

"Théo got no brakes, Édouard got no brakes..."

"Time for history class..." said the teacher, in a foul mood.

"Ms. Dirce got no brakes!"

"SHOW SOME RESPEEEEEEEECT!" the teacher screamed, slamming a book as thick as a phone directory onto the desk.

Bernard and Nathan immediately fell silent. They didn’t want a repeat of what had happened in other classes when teachers snapped.

That sunny afternoon, when the school day ended, the game was all anyone could talk about. It felt like a World Cup final. People were placing bets and entering pools, debating which team had the better chance of winning. Others were planning to watch the match at someone’s house or at a bar. Even the most apathetic students seemed interested. It was as if life had returned to normal—if only for a few hours.

"The world’s ending and they’re still playing soccer, and no one talks about anything else. It’s like they forgot we could all die..." said Iris, walking alongside Jonas.

"I don’t know. If it really is the last match between national teams, it could be legendary," the boy replied.

"How can it be legendary if there might not be anyone left in the world?"

"Yeah... fair point."

"Idiocy," came Renata’s voice behind them. "Everyone acting like a shitty game like this matters when we might have less than a year left."

"Maybe that’s why it matters..." said Jonas, looking up and noticing clouds quickly gathering in the sky.

"People will use anything to distract themselves..." said Renata, passing them and crossing the street.

Only a minute later, thunder boomed loudly, and a torrential downpour began almost instantly.

"What the hell? They didn’t say it’d rain in today’s forecast!" said Jonas, starting to run.

"The wind’s really strong too!" said Iris, trying to keep up.

"Let’s race!"

"We’re not kids anymore, Jonas!"

Even in that violent rain, the two laughed at the absurdity of the situation. That sudden weather shift could very well be tied to the end of the world, but to them, it was better to die laughing than scared and sad.

When they got to their street, each rushed into their homes, clothes and backpacks soaked through. The first thing Iris did was let down her hair, head straight to the bathroom, take off her wet clothes, and get into the shower. But suddenly, the hot water turned cold—and the bathroom light went out.

At Jonas’s house, the boy, already changed into dry clothes, was trying to turn on the TV but couldn’t.

"Come on! Right now, during an international soccer match? This is what we get for buying secondhand junk!" Jonas said, trying to lift the television.

"Jonas! It’s a blackout! Don’t break the TV!" his grandmother yelled.

"Oh... right. The power’s out..." Jonas said, putting the TV down.

"Grandma, I got the candles..." said Thérése, frightened, coming in from the kitchen carrying a few candles.

"It’s just a rainstorm," said Jonas.

"Just a rainstorm, Jonas? This is a warning from God. Let’s pray, children," said their grandmother, hands clasped in prayer.

Renata was once again alone in her room, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, indifferent to the blackout, the sound of thunder, the storm wind howling through the window, and even her mother knocking on the door.

"Sweetie, come stay with us!" her mother called out.

But Renata didn’t want to leave her room. What difference did it make if she stayed in her room or in the living room, with her dramatic mother and her stepfather who wouldn’t stop yelling about “idiots scared of some rain”?

Outside the shack, Zek was gripping his phone camera tightly, recording himself crawling on his knees through the mud in the middle of the downpour like he was doing penance.

"I’m in the rain, I’m crazy, I’m in the rain! I’m apocalypsed, it’s the end of the world, fuck yeah! Let’s go, I’m fucking crazy!" Zek screamed, standing up and rushing inside, soaked to the bone.

"Jesus Christ, crazy-ass boy, don't come here all fucking soaked like that!" grumbled Zek’s elderly mother as he burst in, but he ignored her completely.

"Look... the sky, man... the sky’s crying with the rain. And it’s screaming with the thunder, my faithful... and people still doubt, look..." Zek’s voice suddenly calmed as he stared wide-eyed at the camera. "These, man, these are the signs... Everybody, man, everybody said I was crazy, and now they’re all saying I was right..."

Just then, a lightning bolt struck near the shack, lighting up the entire place. Zek began to laugh like a madman, spreading his arms wide.

"AHAHAHAHAHAA! EVEN THE RAIN IS AFRAID OF ME, MY FAITHFUL! WHOEVER DOESN’T BELIEVE IN ME, LOOK... I’M GONNA UPLOAD THIS VIDEO, MAN... AS SOON AS THE INTERNET’S BACK..."

"Ézéchiel, goddammit..." his mother complained once again, to no response.

Within a few hours, the downpour lessened. Due to the sheer volume of rain, many places were damaged and flooded. Iris’s parents, who had been stuck at their workplaces, arrived home several hours after the rain had stopped, to their daughter’s great relief. She hugged each of them tightly, afraid the worst had happened.

May 21st, Wednesday.

Power and internet returned the next day—along with more rain, though it was lighter this time. But what was strange was that the storm had occurred everywhere in the world, even in deserts.

World leaders demanded answers. Scientists debated live on air, unable to explain why the storm had been global or why satellites had failed to detect it. The leading theory was extreme climate change caused by the meteor, though they couldn’t explain how.

In a desperate move, the President of France went as far as blaming Brazil for “not taking care of the Amazon,” claiming France should seize the region to prevent future climate disasters. The more religious ones simply accepted it as divine intervention.

305 days left.