RESPICE FINEM
The Pope, the Hermundaromanian president, and the largely ceremonial Council of Duçues stood on a rectangular concrete platform in the very center of Hermundaroma. Around them stood at least two million people.
The year was 1820 AD, and it was the fifth of February. Throughout the preceding few decades, the world had undergone enormous change. The global population had recently ballooned to 5.8 billion. Massive innovation occurred in all sciences, but especially the emerging field of robotics. However, by the fifth of February in the year 1820, all of this mattered not. It was a significantly simpler invention, one invented about half a century ago in 1767, that would make all of these technologies, and all this progress, useless.
“My countrymen, citizens of Hermundaromania, one of the foremost nations in the world” announced the president, “as you most likely already know, Türükegutland and the rest of the ANCD have declared war on the League and Commonwealth of Roman Nations, of which we are a part. And both the SPQR and Türükegutland contain nuclear capability.” The president sighed. “There is little we can do now but wait in this plaza with our loved ones and with the rest of the people of Hermundaroma until the end comes,” he continued, “I will now permit the Pope, the Council, or anyone near this platform to come up and speak.”
Meanwhile, hundreds of nuclear warheads from the ANCD targeted various LCRN cities, including Hermundaroma. LCRN warheads, too, had been launched, and they headed to various ANCD cities--including Türükestatir.
A Polytheist Apocalypsist priest from the crowd stepped up to the podium. He exercised the right of freedom and religion and speech: “The END IS NEAR. EMBRACE THE BOMB. WE WILL BE TAKEN TO A GREATER PLACE! WE WILL MEET THE GODS!” The crowd, however, outcried against the Apocalypsist--they didn’t want to listen to this lunatic on the last day of their lives!
The head Duçue requested a chance to speak. “I believe that the Pope, the Bishop of Hermundaroma-and-Graecia-Parva himself, should lead a prayer in this dire time.” The crowd, except for trace Zoharists and Knights of Reason, agreed. But the Pope looked ill. He was very old, and had been for a decade, but today he looked far worse than normal. He did not answer.
Suddenly, the nuclear alarm blared. Its sound radiated throughout Hermundaroma. It became impossible to hear anything but its piercing wail.
Then it stopped.
The Pope stepped up to the podium.
Wistfully, he said, “...God... is dead.”
All was silent. For one second that is.
Hermundaroma was destroyed in a nuclear blast. Within five minutes, all major cities throughout the entire world were destroyed. Ash, smoke, and soot surrounded the Earth’s skies. A decades-long winter had begun, and the world was thrown back into the Mediatempene Age.
RARI·NANTES·IN·GVRGITE·VASTO