The End of the Modern Era

“Sure enough, it’s the end of the Modern Era,” said the historian, polishing his glasses. “I thought it was, and sure enough I was right. Right here, in this issue of Modern Era Times, a peer-reviewed journal, they’ve published my article, ‘The End of the Modern Era,’ which means that it’s as good as certain that the Modern Era is over. Perhaps I’ll go outside and see how the Modern Era is wrapping up.” Outside some workmen were banging on a pothole in the road with their shovels. “This pothole’s not going to keep making itself,” a workman said. “Somebody’s got to make the pothole, if somebody else is going to fill it in,” said another workman. The historian ran into his neighbor, a cartographer. “Do you remember when that pothole first appeared in our neighborhood? I’m glad to see it’s in professional hands now,” said the cartographer. “How are you feeling about the Era we’ve just finished living through? Nostalgic?” said the historian. “Pardon?” “Well it’s the end of the Modern Era, you know.” “I hadn’t realized,” the cartographer said. “I knew it was the end of Objective Cartography, but the whole Modern Era? It’s terrifying, how things can just end like that. You get up one day, and it’s the end of the Industrial Revolution. By lunch, someone’s pointing out that the Information Age is over. Then, as soon as you get to the library after work, someone’s thrown out the printing press.” “Some of us see these things coming,” said the historian. “I don’t mean anything by it, but some of us do see these things, far off on the horizon.” A shovel slipped from the hands of one of the workers. The others watched on as it fell into the pothole, and kept falling, and kept falling. The pothole was growing enormous. They waited and waited to hear it hit the bottom. They might wait forever. A new age had started, and no one could say what it was.