International Space Station
Bob would be forever grateful for receiving the worst news of his life. No one had to tell him, least of all NASA’s Administrator on an unscheduled Skype.
“You will receive full honors and respects,” the man promised.
Bob had to assume he meant posthumously.
“Since our President is thoroughly engaged with the planetary threat—”
The Administrator was careful with words because he was not alone. Bob could only see the man’s upper body between a desk and white wall, but his microphone picked up more whispering and breathing.
“—So I’ve asked our Vice President to do the honors of the last word.”
Bob swallowed hard. Of course their President wasn’t one for awkward situations, like talking to the walking dead. He would pass the job, like all others, to his second in command.
“God Bless you Bob.”
The Administrator’s lips contorted as he got up from his desk and stepped out of range. Don’t leave us, a voice in Bob’s head called out. It sounded like a small child too young to understand a hopeless situation.