From July 7th, Monday, to July 8th, Tuesday

July 7, Monday.

The school bell rang, followed by an announcement from the principal for all the students who hadn’t yet heard the news. Student Quentin Digne had died in a tragedy caused by a non-apocalyptic.

In the third-year class, everyone already knew. Gabriel arrived late because the bus he took was slower than usual due to the returning rain. For the first time, the classroom was silent. No sounds, phones, or jokes. A photo of Quentin was taped to the chalkboard.

“I know that... today isn’t a normal day,” said the teacher, receiving no response from the students, staring at Quentin’s photo and taking a deep breath. “I found out this morning from Principal Lucie... I didn’t know him like you did. But I just wanted to say... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say anything...” came a voice from one of the middle rows. It was Édouard, trembling, his normally all-black eyes now red from crying.

“Édouard?” said Diane, sitting beside him.

“Don’t pretend you understand. You don’t...”

“You’re right. I don’t understand. I didn’t know him like you did. But I know he was a kind and good person. I’m not here to pretend I can fix anything,” said Gabriel.

“THEN WHY ARE YOU TALKING?” shouted Édouard, standing up from his chair.

The whole class looked at him in fear. The playful Canadian boy was now angry and yelling.

“You think I came here to save you all from the end of the world? I came here because I thought... if I could help just one of you feel a little less lonely, that would mean something,” Gabriel said, hesitantly.

“Yeah? And now my best friend is dead!” Édouard shouted, slamming his desk hard. “He didn’t even believe in conflict between believers and non-believers! He was just handing out pamphlets! That’s it! And now he’s dead, because of this STUPID APOCALYPSE BULLSHIT! If this keeps up, we’ll all kill each other before the meteor even hits!”

For a moment, Gabriel felt the calm inside him vanish. He wanted to scream too. Wanted to ask why he was even trying to hold onto hope when the world only responded with cruelty. But he took a deep breath and thought before speaking.

“I know it’s unfair. I’m sad too. I’m angry too. But if we let the anger consume us, we won’t be any different from the fanatics—on either side.”

Édouard just covered his face and started crying uncontrollably.

“We’ll spend this period doing nothing but remembering Quentin. You can draw, write, anything to ease the weight on your hearts—or simply sit quietly,” said Gabriel calmly, sitting at the teacher’s desk.

Édouard picked up a pen and began drawing a simple picture. A smiling boy wearing a raincoat.

That rainy Monday evening, Gabriel was at Claire’s apartment, sitting blankly on the couch while Claire returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea, sitting down next to him.

“What was it you needed to talk about in private? Gonna say something, or just sit there? You look worse than usual,” said Claire, trying to lift his mood.

“That boy who was murdered, Quentin. He was my student, Claire. He had his whole life ahead of him... On Friday, everyone was smiling. I thought... I really thought I had done something good for the first time as a teacher. That I had given them a good memory, even if the world was going to end... and now...”

“Look, I’m not good with this kind of stuff... but even if it was just for a short time, at least it was something real, wasn’t it?”

“But was it worth it?” asked Gabriel, raising his voice, his eyes wide. “Was it worth teaching? Planning a future for kids who might not even make it to next year? I had another field trip in mind. A visit to our university. I wanted to show them that despite everything, there could still be a future to prepare for—still be dreams. Now I don’t even know if they’ll survive the next few months the way things are going!”

Claire didn’t reply. She just looked at Gabriel, noticing his hands trembling as he held his mug.

“And that man who shot Quentin?” Gabriel continued bitterly. “He just hated people who thought differently. Killed a boy who only knocked on his door. A kid who wasn’t even a fanatic. Just... kind. Quiet. Following his family’s beliefs...”

“It’s not just belief anymore. Now it’s like an identity. Like two rival tribes. Either you believe the world will end or you don’t, and that defines who you are to people now. There’s no room for nuance. Everything’s become binary,” said Claire, placing a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“How can you be so sure? You never believed in the prophecy. And you thought it was a coincidence when Zek stopped the rain.”

“Because I believe in people, not prophets. Is the world ending? Maybe. But we’re still here, and that’s what matters. As an educator, I believe every moment we have with those we teach matters. You said you wanted to give your students hope, even if time was short, right?”

Now it was Gabriel who stayed quiet as Claire spoke.

“I don’t think you failed them. I think you gave them memories—something more than fear and despair. And if everything ends tomorrow, or in a few months, or doesn’t end at all and life goes on? At least you gave them something worth remembering,” said Claire.

Gabriel just looked at his friend. He wasn’t fully convinced, but he felt a bit lighter. In his mind, the university trip remained an unanswered question—but now, it felt like something to consider, not discard.

July 8, Tuesday.

The streets of Paris were filled with turmoil, protests, and fires. In the National Assembly, loud voices argued nonstop. Quentin wasn’t an isolated case. There had been dozens of incidents of armed people shooting others for having different beliefs.

“We must collect all weapons! Our people are dying, not because of the meteor, but because of our own hatred!” shouted a deputy, slamming the podium.

“And how do you propose we protect ourselves from religious radicals who want to burn libraries and force us into churches?”

“There are people burning churches too!”

“You don’t fight radical ideologies through conversation!”

More and more shouts and proposals echoed through the chamber. Some wanted guns for everyone, others wanted no guns at all. Curfews, persecution of extremist groups, deportations—no one agreed on anything.

These proposals and discussions weren’t unique to France. In other countries, debates included banning taxes on bunker construction, labeling apocalyptic rhetoric as terrorism, or mandating religious education for the population.

256 days remain.