"Hi. Are you up?"

"Yes."

"Are you thinking about me?"

"Yes."

Bob could practically hear DeeDee's sleepy smile through the phone.

"Just checking," he said. "You know I took my shower this morning with a cap on because I could smell your perfume in my hair and I didn't want to lose it."

"Your hair?" she asked, giggling and yawning at the same time.

"I told you I love it when you fiddle your fingers at the nape of my neck, didn't I? Drives me crazy. Why do you think I put on such a long movie?"

"Oh" she said. "That's my hand cream,"

"Yeah, well I'm nuts about you and your hand cream."

"Good. I'm pretty nuts about you too. I'm having a hard time picturing you in a shower cap though. Is it one of those poofy ones with flowers on it?"

"It's actually a bald cap I borrowed from the theatre."

"Even better!"

"So listen, what do you say we get together a little early this afternoon and drive each other crazy a bit before Maya's ribbon cutting thing?"

"We promised Natasha and Rodney we were going to meet up for dinner first."

"That's right, we did. Oh well, I tried," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Make sure you try again later. If you like my hand cream you're going to flip your bald cap over my body butter."

"Stop it," he laughed. "I'm gonna have to shower again."

"See you tonight."

"Can't wait."

Bob dressed for work with that lighter than air feeling of all being right with the world. His daily audiences at the children's theatre made him feel like a hero, and Steve Wurtz had already started swirling around ideas for a new show with a role for him in mind. Better yet, he seemed to want and value Bob's input. It was almost too good to be true, and if it was, he still had DeeDee, the real dream come to life, even if his mind had never conjured one up as wonderful.

Nearly three weeks of dating her had convinced him she was The One, but to say that they were dating, rather than seeing each other, seemed silly to Bob, not only because it already felt like more, but because off-duty they were both homebodies who preferred to spend most of their time in. They'd cook for each other, at his place or hers, stay up late watching television, make out – in no particular order. Once, at midnight, she decided she needed to make them a panzanella salad and he teased her for insisting that all the bread cubes be the same size. She laughed even as she reprimanded him for laughing. "You know I love an even slice!" she said. Then teased him back, "Besides this way no one's getting a better plate and I know how you like things to be fair."

They could talk for hours or not at all. They loved their families, had the same taste in music and movies – especially musicals. She got all his old references, laughed at his jokes, and amused and amazed him constantly with her wit and her intuitiveness and her sweetness. Where he was loud, she was quiet, where he was quiet she was insightful, when he amused and amazed her too, she told him so. He did not have to hope she had fallen for him too. He knew it. Within their relationship, nothing was a performance. They had quickly become each other's side-person, a double-act with no need of a spotlight.

They'd be together again that evening to join Natasha and Rodney at the Grand Opening ceremony for the new Globus theatre, with a sneak preview performance of Maya Adler's much gossiped about Alpinia immediately following. Steve Wurtz would be there, along with Gene and Gwyn, though Gene had made it perfectly clear he would not be entering the theatre under any circumstances.

On his way out for the day, Bob turned on the television to quickly check the weather report. He wanted to make sure forecasters hadn't snuck in any new warnings of rain or sleet which might ruin his surprise for DeeDee after the show. He'd procured a horse-drawn carriage ride to finish the evening, but only by enlisting the help of a trusted trainer who rescued the animals and treated them like gold. They were not forced, as some, to work to exhaustion in a dirty noisy city. Their owner said if the show ran late or if the weather was bad, the deal was off. Her horses had a limit and a bed time.

Predictions for a mild, clear night put an extra bounce in Bob's step. He was about to move on when the reporter reminded viewers to look to the skies after dark as NASA had announced a small meteoroid was likely to hit the Earth's atmosphere, breaking apart over the city to create a nice light show. He gave momentary consideration to Gwyn's doomsday prediction, but ultimately let it go. If the end was nigh, at least he'd die a happy man.

******

"Why isn't the ribbon in front of the doors?" Gene asked.

The ceremonial ribbon awaiting Maya's scissors (granted her by the new theatre owners once they'd been wrested from the hands of a tragically misinformed Rudy Gallo), had been placed around a magnificent golden sculpture of a large spinning globe, situated midway between the street and the building's entrance.

"And why," Gene asked, "is the building represented by a globe if Nimbus Opera Company and The Globe Theatre combined businesses. Seems unfair."

"You want a big grey raincloud over it?" Steve asked.

"I would've done a giant sandbag," Gene said.

"But sandbags are stuffed."

"A sculpture of one wouldn't be."

"Good point, honey," Gwyn said.

"I think it's gorgeous," DeeDee said.

"Well that's why we'd never work," Gene said, giving her an almost pitying look of regret.

A small, portable speaker system squealed alive with feedback which made the tight assembly of guests jump and cover their ears - all except for Ms. Emaline Adler, shimmering in a bright copper gown, seated up front of the group in a wheelchair. "You think that's bad wait till Maya Ruth starts singing," she cackled.

Maya pinched her lips to a button hole and widened her eyes as though her mother might see a nursing home future in them. She bent over and aimed such an exaggerated laugh Emaline's way that the closest mingling group of bigwigs tightened their circle.

"All right," Natasha said, a little impatiently. "Let's get on with it. It's too cold for this."

"AAAL-Pin-Ia where the winds come sweepin' down the plain!" Bob sang out to the title song of Oklahoma.

"You're ridiculous," Steve laughed. "Don't worry. She's not going to get sued this time. If anything it's satire."

"It could at least have something indicating a halo," Gene said, still staring at the statue.

"Drop it, Gene!" Steve said. "It's lit. That's good enough."

"Speaking of lit," Natasha said, "Think Maya's been hitting that champagne a little early?"

"She's just nervous," said Steve. "She's a professional. She never gets smashed on game days."

"You've been helping her tweak the show, haven't you?" Rodney asked. "Has she got anything to be nervous about?"

"Oh, it's going to tank for sure, but her voice has never been lovelier."

"What do you think, Gwyn?" DeeDee asked. "Can you see if it'll be a success or not?"

"Guys. I'm telling you. I just can't see past those Christmas lights and the world blowing up. I mean I can still talk to the other side, but mostly about whether food at the buffet is still fresh, or whether a shoe size will actually fit if I'm ordering online. Sometimes they'll tell me if there's going to be a disgusting potato in the bag if I buy a whole sack of them, but I should always just assume so."

"I told you to stop doing that, my love," Gene said kissing her hand.

"But you like when I make taters," Gwyn cooed.

"Oh, come on!" Natasha said, grossed out.

"Anyway," Gwyn said, "anything not in the immediate, immediate future is like a page that won't load. It's just blank."

"I wasn't going to bring it up," said Bob, "but NASA did put something out about a meteoroid breaking up over the city tonight."

"Seriously?" Gene said, scrolling quickly for a headline in his phone.

"We might see a couple of fireballs."

"Well, there you have it. That must be it," Gwyn said sagely, causing the group to grimace at one another nervously.

Bob shrugged. "Look at it this way. If this is it, at least there won't be any more Kinder Potato Surprises."

Gene lifted his head up from his phone, a dramatically grave look on his face. "Excuse me a moment," he said as though far away in heightened thought, an odd man's version of Adam West's Batman. He made no actual move to leave, his eyes swinging side to side as though giving the group a chance to ask him where he was going. When no one did, he said 'I have to get something from the car," like it was a clue to a mystery no one was trying to solve and jogged away.

"What's that about?" Natasha asked.

"That's TWERP," Steve said dismissively.

"He is, God love him," Natasha said.

"No," Steve said, "It's his top secret project. His Total World Extinction Rescue Pack. I haven't seen it, but if he doesn't need help getting it out of the car then I'm not too worried."

"No point in worrying," Gwyn said. "I'm sure it will be over quick."

"Nothing's going to happen," Steve said confidently. "There's no way Maya's getting off that easy!"

"Plus, tonight the skies are clear," Rodney said. "Every time there's a celestial happening, it's overcast and you can't see a thing. Trust me, I work night shifts and I always get suckered into running out to look."

"Poor sweetie," Natasha said with a mocking pout.

"Yes, I'm just a sad man, alone in the dark with a thermos and a stiff neck, waiting and waiting."

"Next time there's an astro-event I'm going to throw a party and call it a Celestial Happening," Steve said.

"Aw, that would've been fun," Gwyn said.

Natasha ignored her forgone conclusion. "You'd better get Gene working on his papier mache moon rocks now, Steve."

"Don't be silly. I bought him a 3-D printer for Christmas."

"Jealous," Bob said. "How's that going?"

"Well, it started out with a lot of cubes, and that was anticlimactic," Steve said. "Now he's got himself quite the collection of little Gwyn figurines."

"He scanned me for days," Gwyn said, wiggling her brows.

Steve leaned in toward DeeDee. "Got himself a little DeeDee action figure too that I think he's keeping it for emergencies."

"Steve!" DeeDee said, giving him a little shove.

The microphone crackled on again and all eyes went to Maya now standing before it.

"Attention. Attention. Mesdames et Monsieurs. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two giants of the entertainment community. I'm speaking of course of the Nimbus Opera Company and The Globe Theatre who have joined creative forces to bring to life, in this glorious building, a newly renovated public shrine to the Arts. I am honoured and grateful to christen what will surely one day be known as the hallowed halls of The Globus Theatre with my new original opera, Alpinia."

The applause which followed continued unevenly as Maya began to thank a list of founders, investors and sponsors. It began to fade as the list seemed without end, the cold air numbing hands so that they slapped together with less feeling, in every sense of the word. As she finally got around to thanking the cast and crew of her new production, and last but not intentionally least, Rudy Gallo, the enthusiasm of revived applause was cut short when the first head to catch sight of a light in the sky caused others to follow suit and stare.

Slightly bigger than a standard nighttime star, it had slightly burnt orange glow. It was speck in the grand scheme of things, like a concrete mite on a sidewalk. "It's moving," someone said, and after a little squinted-eye debate, all agreed it was.

"It's moving because it's an airplane," someone else said.

"Oh," said many voices, forming a large puff of cold breath.

"Without further ado," Maya semi-sang, in order to win back attention, "let's cut the ribbon on this thing" She did so quickly in hopes of cutting through the distraction. "I hereby declare The Globus Theatre open!"

"What's that??" someone yelled, pointing at the sky again.

The mite-light had blossomed to a blurrier version of itself. Like the flash of a pale distress flare from very far away, it glowed and began to sink towards a distant horizon and disappeared. Onlookers held their breaths waiting for something more. Whispers about NASA's predictions began to ripple upwards and without any urgency transformed into a fog of near-miss giggles.

"I'm back!" Gene announced his return, carrying a suitcase and a duffle bag. "Did I miss it?" he asked.

"Just now," Steve said pointing to the limp ribbon at the foot of the globe.

"You mean the light in the sky? Yeah." Natasha confirmed.

"That sucks," Gene said, inflating his cheeks and chin like a bullfrog

"Don't worry," said Rodney. "I'm sure they'll be another near-catastrophic event for you to thwart sometime."

"No, I mean there's more to it than I thought."

He was looking up at another flare. This one was traveling across the sky as a shooting star would only it dragged behind it a trail of bright white pebbly streaks like a bride's lace train on the floor.

"It's like they said," someone said. "Breaking up on impact."

The word "Cool" was whispered by many before another light was spotted further away.

"Everybody STAY CALM!" Gene yelled, racing towards the sound system.

"Uh, Gene," Steve called after him, worried he was not heeding his own advice.

The group watched as Gene unpacked what appeared to be a standard sized amplifier that had been given a wiry makeover. He pulled multiple cords from his dufflebag, and something folded and shiny, like a tin foil covered divider.

"Goddammit!" Steve grunted through clenched teeth. "That's my antique sunbather's reflector. It belonged to Errol Flynn!"

"What's he going to do with it?" Natasha asked.

"I don't want to say," Steve sighed.

"If he's trying to give the SETI Institute a run for its money, he's a couple of pie plates short," Bob said.

Maya began beckoning everyone to head inside for the show when Gene dropped his gear to rush the mic.

"People this is not the time to panic!"

"Gene?" Maya smiled tensely.

"It's showtime Maya."

"I know."

"The hell is that fool doing?" Emaline Adler cackled.

"Mama!" Maya shushed her.

"If he's gonna streak, I'll wait."

"Everyone," Gene continued, "what we're seeing isn't a lightshow. NASA predicted a harmless asteroid – "

"Meteoroid!" Bob yelled to correct him.

" – but my girlfriend, renowned psychic Gwyn Sticks –"

"Aw, thanks honey. Hello everyone," Gwyn said.

" – has unfortunately, most likely accurately, with a twenty percent margin for error, predicted it has the ability to end life as we know it. But don't worry. Science will save us!"

Too disinterested to heckle, the majority of the crowd began heading into the theatre, not in a run for their lives but to avoid having to witness a madman being tackled by security. Bob, DeeDee, Natasha, Rodney and Steve all moved closer through the thinned spectators.

Bob did not know whether to feel embarrassed for Gene or admire his conviction. DeeDee grabbed Steve's arm. "Should we stop him?" she asked as he began connecting his invention to the lawn sound system.

"I don't know it's worth it," Steve said, and without taking his eyes off his brother pointed to the sky where the latest light seemed to be pulsating lower, growing larger as it drew nearer.

Another almost deafening screech of feedback caused those who remained out of curiosity to cringe and cry out.

"Don't scream!" Gene continued, without the mic this time. "Miss Adler and I have prepared for this."

"What?" Maya balked, her own eyes ablaze.

"Maya, stand at the mic, and when I tell you, I need you to belt out the perfect high C as loud as you can."

"Gene, I'm going to kill you."

"Not if this asteroid kills us first. Don't you remember?? We discussed this at Christmas. The frequency of your voice magnified by my enhanced sound system directed towards that hunk of rock with its compromised integrity should be able to break it up enough to minimize fatalities."

"Where are the pieces going to go?"

"Some of us are going to get wiped out, but that can't be helped."

"It doesn't look that big. Why wasn't this all over the news?"

"They didn't say nothing about it on the stories," Emaline said.

The second light went out, just as another ember-like pinhole appeared in a separate patch of darkness. Bob was not alone in thinking this was exactly what NASA expected. Broken pieces disintegrating in flame upon entry into earth's atmosphere, and nary a concern for debris making it to the ground. Gene watched the skies like he was waiting to catch a pop-fly, even though he clearly had never played a game of baseball in his life.

"Gene, sweetie," Gwyn said. She had her fingers over one ear as though getting instructions through a headset. "Incoming."

The sure way in which she said it caused Bob to erupt in goosebumps. They all looked up and saw a new angry shooting star no longer a galaxy away.

"To the microphone!" Gene ordered Maya.

Maya took her place, still hesitant. "Do you think it'll work?"

"Go on, Maya!" Bob called. He tried to start a round of applause with encouraging whistles. "Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Let's hear that beautiful voice!"

Those who remained on the theatre's lawn cheered for the idea of an exclusive pre-show. Phones came out and cameras were turned on.

Maya's eyes found Bob's and seized from them all the confidence she needed.

"I don't know who you are, mister, but Maya Ruth Adler was put on this earth to do one thing and that's sing, and if I have one motto, it's that music will save us all. This one's for you, mystery man. And you too, Rodney. Let's do this."

"Lord, you'd think it was Proud Mary," Emaline said.

"On my go," Gene prepared her.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and the calamitous halting and honking of traffic from the busy street. A car alarm screamed, and cameras spun around in reflex to catch steam billowing from under a sedan's hood, dented into wings by a falling chunk of rock. The Globus group scattered again. While some remained, others rushed inside the theatre. A few left hastily, presumably headed home.

Bob took DeeDee by the hand and with Natasha, Rodney and Steve, they formed a little cluster by the spinning statue. The falling star was still falling; as though being followed by the eyes of a painting, there was no angle from which the flaming ball of white did not seem to be heading straight towards them.

"NOW!" Gene yelled, hovering over switches like a demented DJ.

Maya started with scales.

"There's no time!" Gene screeched.

"I have to warm up!" Maya hissed.

As she began again, the light faded in the sky. It had not vanished quickly like the others had. It flickered to extinguishment and somehow, they knew it was still coming. Whatever size or shape, the alien rock had survived its first fight with earth's atmosphere, and up there somewhere, like a silent killer, it was hurtling towards its next very vocal opponent.

Clear of throat, and clear of mind, Maya's let her voice begin its climb. At its moderately amplified launch, it still managed to drown out a cacophony of messy metropolitan noise, so perfect in pitch and tone that it shamed the din with its purity. Maya's highest C, for it was exactly that, was so unearthly in its beauty it seemed only right that it should to want to leave the diva's mortal body and make contact with something also not of this world.

With a reddening face and bulging eyes, Maya held the note, trying to aim it at her unseen foe as best she could until she nearly passed out, stumbling backwards into her mother's chair. Speakers had shaken, and later, one witness would claim his eyeglasses cracked, but the note hardly created a sonic boom. Gene's TWERP, for all its promises, had failed to deliver for a number of obvious reasons, the most simple being that one amp plugged into another amp of the same power did not generate a matter shattering volume, whether Errol Flynn's tanning cookie sheet had been bent to a cone around it or not.

Still, no meteor of death came to kiss Earth goodbye. No rain of rocks fell upon the helpless, at least not where anyone could see. When no other strange lights appeared in the sky, it seemed the event was at its anticlimactic-as-a-printed-cube end.

City noises blared again; beeping and grinding and honking were like careless ink blot stains on the discarded sheet music for the score to the World's End.

Rudy Gallo yelled to Maya from the theatre doors, "What the hell are you doing? We've been holding the curtain forever!"

Again, Bob led an applause, whistling and calling 'Brava!' as though the only purpose of the mayhem was for Maya to show off her talents.

Gene stared at the night sky, reluctant to pack it in. Maya gave him a death glare before stomping off in a huff as best she could while wheeling Emaline's chair into the theatre.

The group was calling to him to rejoin them near the statue, when without sign or disturbance of any element, a large chunk of space rock the size of a giant fist crashed into the Globe, cracking its golden skull and exploding what it did not immediately melt. In that same moment of impact, a tiny piece of that rock split from its parent by force, jumped up and hit Gwyn Sticks right between the eyes just as she was saying, "Ohhhhh."

Down and out she went.