"That was an absolutely delightful apocalypse, Peg. Thank you so much for inviting us.", effused Hilda, gently wiping some crumbs of lemon cake from her lower lip with a lace napkin.
"Hear, hear!", nodded Gregor, tapping his brandy glass with a runcible spoon for emphasis.
"I must confess: It was much better than I was expecting, although I fear we must all approach these displays with far more commitment and application if one of us is ever to outdo Gianni's last soirée"
"Now then, May; I thought Margaret's display was first class", countered Gianni, "Very innovative."
"Thank you, Gianni", said Margaret, "and thank you too, May. That's as complimentary as I've ever heard you get."
May shrugged nonchalantly. She wouldn't be too troubled if Margaret took it as a compliment, but wanted to make it clear that further encouragement was not going to be forthcoming.
"The sticky thing about apocalypses…", Margaret declared with no small amount of concern, "…is that they're now so hard to do with any degree of originality."
She took a sip of her St-Emilion Grand Cru, letting it roll around her mouth to savour its texture. It was, after all, the last bottle in existence.
"Would it be fair to say, Margaret, that I noticed some of my own signature motifs in the wonderful collapse to which we have just borne witness?"
"Oh, indeed so, Gianni. Let the record show that my work of the last few aeons has been entirely the result of your tutelage. I paid particular attention to, and felt a strong resonance with, the idea of collapse from within. Any fool can throw an asteroid at them, after all."
"Ah. But. To me, it is not so much the idea of internal collapse itself; more that internal collapse represents the best medium for ensuring minimal involvement. Crashing an asteroid; unleashing a virus; detonating a star; these are so direct as to be artlessly crude. The placement of a letter, or a salvo of whispers in the ears of the right individuals are so much more satisfying – as these acts are within the abilities of the targets themselves. The art becomes not so much a gratuitous demonstration of what you can do, but rather an exploration of how little is necessary."
"'Nothing wrong with a good explosion in my book. Bang! Take it, you bastards! You shouldn't be so keen to dismiss the basics, Gianni", said Gregor, helping himself to another scone.
"It is not so much that I shun the rudiments", replied Gianni, rubbing his ring finger across the bridge of his nose, "more that many others have mastered them to the degree that I feel able simply to spectate, and explore other, less well-known devices in my own work."
"In truth, Gianni", confessed Margaret, "I must admit that I had to interfere more than could be considered elegant. They were in grave danger of going prematurely, before you would have arrived. I had to hold them back a shade."
"I appreciate your candour", nodded Gianni understandingly, "I've had to do the same myself on occasion. Do you remember Aleph?"
"Really?"
"Yes. That was forced somewhat. It can often be necessary with volatile targets. Have you decided what to do with those remaining? It might be interesting to see what results, considering they haven't fallen as far as they could. Many will survive."
"Of course. It was my wish that many would, precisely to allow me to make that choice."
"Crush the vermin, that's what I say; but play with them first. How about letting them survive and stabilize for a few rotations, before smashing them with a nice, big comet?", asked Gregor.
"Gregor, really.", admonished Hilda, "You really can be quite brutish."
"Didn't you prune them back once before?", asked May, attempting to look disinterested.
"Three major prunes, a number of minor", replied Margaret, "Of course, there were some genuine disasters along the way. By no means was it all me."
Margaret peered over her shoulder to ascertain the relevant positions.
"OK. That's close enough", she decided. "I now declare this apocalypse officially over."
"Bugger. That lemon cake was most desirable. I'll miss it.", said Gregor.
"It's over, Gregor; you no longer have to keep using this barbarous tongue"
"'Shla sh'vim. Toule cerre slav'van tas merla", said Gregor as they faded.
They laughed. At least, it sounded like laughter…
-=+=-