The Day the Sky called
Imagine yourself standing at the top of the world — the North Pole (90-degrees latitude) — on a Polar Night when the Sun does not rise at all. Look up at the sky above. It is crystal clear, filled with celestial bodies that mesmerise you, but you can see only the northern half of the sky; the rest is hidden beyond the Earth’s curvature. If you look straight up, you’ll see Polaris, located about 323 light-years away, almost – but not exactly – directly overhead. Around it, millions of stars appear to circle. The Pleiades, famously known as the “Seven Sisters,” are also visible. Our galaxy, the Milky Way, stretches across the sky like a shimmering river of stars. You can spot three planets — Jupiter, Mars, and Uranus — and even catch a glimpse of the faint northern lights, known as the Aurora Borealis.
Of course, the naked eye cannot see the more than a million asteroids orbiting the sun at speeds of 17 to 25 kilometres per second. Among the estimated 1,351,400 asteroids in space, most are located in what is known as the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. It lies between 329 and 478 million kilometres from Earth. These ancient fragments of space debris, composed of iron and rock, range in size from as small as 10 metres to over 500 kilometres in diameter, normally pose no threat.
Each day, dozens to hundreds of tiny asteroids, meteoroids, or comet fragments enter Earth’s atmosphere, but most burn up before reaching the ground. Over hundred tons of space debris (mostly dust-sized particles) hits Earth daily. Dozens of small meteoroids enter the atmosphere daily, most producing meteors (shooting stars) as they burn up from friction. On average, one asteroid the size of a car (about 3–4 metres) enters Earth’s atmosphere about once a year but usually explodes high above the surface — as in the 2013 Chelyabinsk event in Russia. Meteorites (fragments that survive and land on Earth) fall every day, but most are small and go unnoticed. Scientists estimate that 17 meteoritic impacts per day result in material reaching the surface, though many land in oceans or remote areas. Comet impacts are extremely rare compared to asteroid impacts. However, comet dust and small fragments can contribute to meteor showers when Earth passes through the tail of a comet.
So, the Earth is constantly bombarded by space material — but nature’s atmospheric shield keeps most of it from causing harm.
But once in a million years, due to some accident or gravitational nudge, a large asteroid is ejected from the belt. Instead of continuing its orbit around the sun, it may go astray and collide with a celestial body — possibly even a planet.
You might already know that around 66 million years ago, such a collision occurred, most likely in the outer region of the asteroid belt and a massive asteroid, about 10 kilometres in diameter, was ejected and ultimately struck what is now Chicxulub, Mexico. The impact was so powerful that it left behind a crater with a diameter 180 kilometres, still visible today. Though the crater is ‘only’ 200 kilometres across, the impact shook the entire planet. Global coastlines were battered by tsunamis. Fires raged across continents. Our massive Earth, which we often consider vast and indestructible, seemed alarmingly small in the face of such a strike. But the asteroid didn’t just bring destruction — it altered the course of life itself. While it led to the extinction of dinosaurs and the devastation of vast ecosystems, it also paved the way for the rise of mammals. Perhaps without that fateful impact, we humans would not exist today — the dinosaurs might still be ruling the Earth.
On June 30, 1908, an asteroid explosion — the Tunguska event — shook the skies over the Podkamennaya Tunguska River in Siberia. The blast, estimated between 3 and 50 megatons, flattened about 80 million trees across 2,150 square kilometres (830 square miles) of forest. Eyewitness accounts suggest that up to three people might have died. Though it’s categorised as an impact event, the asteroid is believed to have exploded 5 to 10 kilometres (3 to 6 miles) above the ground, leaving no crater behind.
All that is history. When you stand at the top of the world, everything looks calm and orderly to the naked eye. The celestial bodies continue their motions as per the laws of nature. Humans have no power over them — we can only observe. We send satellites to study them, hoping to become a little wiser.
You’ve seen enough. Come down to civilisation. The Earth continues to rotate on its axis and orbit the Sun at its natural pace. A new day begins with sunrise. New Zealand proudly claims that the first rays of sunlight touch Young Island, an uninhabited land in the Pacific. As the Earth turns, the Sun appears to move from east to west, signalling the beginning of a new day across the globe. With the rising Sun, life begins anew: people wake up, have breakfast, and prepare to go to work or school. Not everyone steps outside — many stay indoors, assuming they have a home to stay in.
Wait a minute. What you didn’t see — in fact, couldn’t have seen with the naked eye — was that an asteroid was coming closer to Earth. Thousands of years ago, two asteroids in the Mars–Jupiter belt collided, and the smaller one — quite large, though — was ejected and entered a spiralling orbit but now it is getting closer to planet Earth. Somewhere in the silent vastness above, a cosmic clock had begun its final countdown — and no one on Earth could hear it ticking.
On January 17, 2075, when this story begins, life appeared to be unfolding like any other ordinary day. Roads and streets were busy. People were walking, cycling, riding two-wheelers, three-wheelers, or cars. Trains were arriving and departing. Aircraft were landing and taking off. Offices and markets buzzed with activity. People were catching up on the news — local, national, and international — through radio, television, and newspapers. Politics, the economy, the stock market, and both petty and serious crimes filled the newsfeeds.
All of this seemed normal. Even simmering conflicts across the globe felt like background noise in an otherwise ordinary day, although some feared that, if unchecked, they could spiral into Third World War. The fear of a global nuclear war has loomed since the dawn of the Cold War.
As an ordinary man or woman your concerns are limited to your own little world — you and your family. Let the leaders deal with the threat of war. Let the police handle the criminals. Let the government manage the machinery of administration.
Barring a few, all people were unaware of the impending danger.
On the morning of January 17, 2075, Harry — as his friends and close acquaintances call him, though his full name is Henry Jackson — was in a relaxed mood. He held an important position in the U.S. President’s office: his job was to receive and screen telephone calls intended for the President. Except for a handful of the world’s most powerful individuals who had direct access to the President, no one could bypass Harry.
He was feeling at ease because the President had taken a short break from his demanding schedule, on the advice of his doctors. Every American President lives under constant pressure. The obsession with being “Number One” in the world has become so deeply ingrained in the U.S. psyche that any significant event in any corner of the globe inevitably becomes a matter of presidential concern. It might sound extreme, but it’s true.
At the age of 80 plus, the weight of the office often felt overwhelming to President John Wilson. Sometimes he jokes that he has more responsibilities resting on his frail shoulders than hairs on his head. Deep down, he sometimes doubts whether he can carry the burden much longer. But the presidency’s allure is so powerful, so irresistible, that he has already decided to run for a second term — two years away.
His doctors had told him that a brief vacation would rejuvenate him. He had accepted their advice and gone to his favourite retreat, the Western White House in San Clemente, California — officially known as La Casa Pacifica.
Cradled between Los Angeles and San Diego, San Clemente is a coastal jewel affectionately known as the “Spanish Village by the Sea.” Its golden shores, sunlit cliffs, and rhythmic Pacific waves create a timeless harmony where life slows to a serene pace. San Clemente State Beach and its famous pier give beautiful views, while inland, gentle hills and canyons covered with shrubs offer scenic trails to explore, filled with the fresh smell of sagebrush and ocean air. The town’s Spanish heritage lives on through white stucco walls, red-tiled roofs, and blooming bougainvillea, creating a vibrant, colourful atmosphere. From the blufftop Casa Romantica Cultural Centre, breathtaking ocean views stretch to the horizon. As twilight falls, the town glows in hues of fire and rose, with the scent of jasmine and driftwood filling the evening air. In San Clemente, beauty is not just scenery—it’s an enduring, effortless way of life.
Every morning, the President walked slowly along the shoreline, the cool Pacific breeze brushing his face, the rhythmic waves calming his thoughts. He listened to the sea’s timeless song and felt the sand shift gently beneath his shoes. In the stillness, his mind relaxed. Afternoons passed in quiet reflection beneath the soft sun, and as twilight settled over the ocean, he watched the horizon darken with a sense of renewed calm. Here, at last, he felt at peace.
Harry hadn’t expected any calls that day; the whole world knew the President was holidaying in San Clemente. Still, even on days when no calls are expected, someone in Harry’s role had to be physically present at the White House. Emergencies don’t wait for convenient times.
So, when the official phone rang, Harry was a bit surprised. The call came from an unknown number, and the ring interrupted his thoughts — he’d been planning a family holiday to follow the President’s return. Slightly annoyed, he picked up the phone.
“Hi, Henry Jackson here. What can I do for you?”
The voice on the other end caught him off guard.
“I’m Moore — Anthony Moore, Administrator of NASA. Please press the video button so we can see each other.”
Harry was well aware of the name. He was thrilled — the Administrator of NASA calling him! Could this be about a job opening at NASA? Harry had once dreamed of becoming a NASA scientist, but life had taken him to the White House switchboard instead. Was this an unexpected opportunity? A twist of fate? Or maybe just a prank? Why would NASA Administrator call a lowly person like Henry Jackson?
He pressed the video button. Sure enough, the man on the screen was indeed Anthony Moore. Harry recognised his face from TV appearances and newspaper photos.
“Good morning, Sir. It’s an honour to speak with you. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted this to be a video call, so you’d take it seriously,” Moore replied. “I need to speak with the President urgently. I have his direct number, but I know he’s on holiday. I don’t want to disturb him unless I’m sure he’s available. Please give me the phone number of the aide-in-charge at the Western White House, so I can check his availability.”
The request put Harry in a difficult position. The President had left strict instructions not to be disturbed during his vacation — unless there was an unavoidable crisis, such as the threat of a major war, or pandemic. Harry didn’t have the courage to disobey that directive.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Moore,” Harry said cautiously. “I’ve been given clear instructions not to disturb the President unless there’s an imminent threat of a major war or pandemic. Do you see such a threat?”
“What I see,” Moore replied, “is more dangerous than a major war. Every moment counts. Please give me the number.”
“If you could just give me some idea of what this is about, I might consider—”
Moore cut him off. His tone had hardened.
“I’ve told you all I can. When I say it’s serious, I mean serious. Don’t waste my time. If you won’t help me, I’ll have no choice but to call the President directly, regardless of whether it’s convenient or not.”
The warning was delivered in a harsh tone. A bead of sweat prickled at Harry’s temple. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the call log, the weight of the moment crushing down on him. If he made the wrong call, it might cost him his career—or worse, history might blame him for the consequences. He felt a chill down his spine. In any case, his spine wasn’t very strong to begin with — a casualty of sitting in a chair all day.
The cosmic clock was ticking, and Harry didn’t even know it.
He gave in. “Okay. Please take down the number of Michael Thomas. He’s in charge at San Clemente. But I doubt his response will be any different from mine.”
Moore jotted down the number, nodded, and said, “Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye… and good luck,” Harry replied, his voice icy and uneasy.
A few minutes later, Michael Thomas heard the buzzing of his phone. He answered the call.
“Hi, Michael Thomas here. What can I do for you?”
The voice on the other end responded confidently.
“I’m Anthony Moore, Administrator of NASA. Please press the video button so you can be sure this isn’t a hoax.”
Like Harry before him, Michael’s heartbeat quickened. He instantly recognised the familiar face of the NASA Administrator on the screen of his mobile.
“Mr. Thomas, where are you lost? Please listen carefully. I must speak with the President immediately. I know he’s in San Clemente for a break from his heavy schedule, but I have something extremely urgent to tell him — and only to him. Please don’t waste time. Connect me to the President.”
Michael, like Harry, was a man who followed protocol to the letter.
“Sorry, Mr. Moore, but I must inform you that I cannot disturb the President. His schedule is full today. At the moment, he’s in the bathroom. After that, he’ll have breakfast with his family and friends, followed by a round of golf. Then comes lunch followed by a siesta, and in the evening, there’s a cultural program before dinner. How can I disturb the old man?”
“I know the U.S. President is always busy, whether it’s a workday or a holiday,” Moore replied, trying to stay calm. “But you have to disturb him. What I need to tell him is extremely serious.”
“If you can give me some idea of how serious it is,” Michael offered, “I might consider connecting you when he comes out of the bathroom.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything more. You’ve left me with no option but to call him directly. I have his personal number but your job may be in trouble,” Moore said, visibly irritated. Under his breath, he muttered, “This man’s as dense as Harry.”
“Please don’t worry about my job,” Michael replied coolly. “Right now, my duty is not to disturb the President. But again, if you tell me the nature of the issue, I may reconsider.”
Having said that, Michael shifted uncomfortably, feeling the phone grow clammy in his hand. His instincts screamed to follow protocol, but a nagging voice at the back of his mind whispered: ‘What if this time was different? What if delay meant disaster?’
The air in the room seemed heavier. Somewhere far above, death was falling silently — and Michael stood here arguing protocol.
“I’ll repeat myself, too — I can’t share the details with you. As I have told you, I have his personal number. If you don’t connect me to the President, I’ll call him directly, no matter where he is or what he’s doing. I was simply being courteous by checking his availability first.”
The sharp tone worked — again.
“Okay, okay. Hold on. Let me check if he’s out of the bathroom and ready for breakfast.”
“Hurry up, man. I can’t hang on forever.”
Michael approached the President, who had just stepped out of the bathroom and was still in his bathrobe. It wasn’t an ideal time to interrupt him, but Moore’s urgency had rattled Michael. Summoning his courage, he stepped closer and said, “Sir, the Administrator of NASA says he needs to speak with you immediately about something very serious.”
The President, who had been looking at Michael with mild irritation, turned serious the moment he heard the words “something very serious.”
He reached into the left pocket of his bathrobe to retrieve his mobile phone and said, “Tell Mr. Moore to call me directly.”
Michael relayed the message. “Mr. Moore, the President wants you to call him.”
The President gestured to Michael to leave.
Moments later, the President answered the call.
“Hello, Moore. Good morning. How are you? What’s this serious matter you need to discuss? Go ahead.”
“Good morning, Sir. I’m fine — but I’m afraid what I’m about to tell you is not fine at all. I request that you ensure no one else is able to hear this conversation. It’s top secret.”
“Okay. Hang on a minute. Let me close the doors.”
After making sure the room was secure, he returned to the call.
“Alright. Now, tell me what’s going on. I hope there’s no issue with the spaceship Nebuly.”
A week ago NASA had launched spaceship Nebuly carrying four astronauts.
“I wouldn’t trouble you over routine problems with the spacecraft, Mr. President.
“Oh God! When was it discovered?”
“Mr. President, this asteroid is not a recent discovery. In fact, this asteroid — designated Asteroid Aura1925 — was first detected nearly a century and half ago, back in 1925. NASA has been monitoring its trajectory closely since the early 1980s, after early data hinted at its unusual motion through the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter.”
He paused, his voice tightening.
“For decades, it wasn’t considered a threat. Its orbit kept it comfortably distant — looping harmlessly around the Sun. But something has changed.”
“Changed? How?” The President asked anxiously.
“We believe, a collision — or perhaps a gravitational slingshot effect near another large object — altered its trajectory. The latest orbital simulations from NASA indicate that Asteroid Aura1925 is now on an accelerating path toward Earth.”
“When is that likely to happen?” There was nervousness in the President’s voice.
NASA Administrator exhaled. “In twenty-one days, Sir. In just twenty-one days including today, it will reach the threshold of Earth’s gravitational sphere of influence i.e. approximately 924,000 kilometres away. Once it crosses the threshold, Earth’s gravity will pull it in faster — dramatically increasing its velocity. If the trajectory holds…” He hesitated.
The hands of the cosmic clock had moved. And Earth was running out of time.
“This isn’t just a NASA emergency, Mr. President. It’s an Earth emergency.” Moore said further
“What is likely to be the impact?” the President asked.
“The greatest catastrophe in the history of mankind. The impact will vaporise everything at ground zero, trigger massive shockwaves, ignite incandescent skies, and unleash a mega-tsunami that devastates Atlantic coastlines. The true disaster begins afterward: millions of tons of debris will darken the skies, initiating an ‘impact winter.’ Temperatures will plunge, crops will fail, and mass starvation and political chaos may follow. Millions will die. Civilisation may collapse. No warnings—just a silent shadow falling from space.
He added, more quietly, “The clock has started ticking. The asteroid’s current speed is 20 kilometres per second.”
“My God… what’s the solution?” A cold sweat broke across his temples. Not a terrorist threat. Not a war. This time, the enemy had no flag.
Moore’s reply was measured, but urgent. “That, Mr. President… is the million-dollar question keeping us awake right now. I recommend immediate activation of global emergency protocols. You will have to take lead and consult all countries with spacecraft and powerful missiles.”
“I strongly urge that this be kept strictly confidential for as long as possible. If word gets out, it could cause global panic — and that would make it much harder for world leaders to focus on the real threat coming from space.” Moore added.
“I agree. It must be kept strictly confidential. Who else knows about this, besides you and me?”
“So far, the members of the NASA team monitoring its movement. Maybe, space agencies of other countries also.”
“I’ll be leaving for Washington in half an hour,” the President said. “I need to discuss this with my team. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Goodbye — and take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Mr. President, for listening patiently. Goodbye. Take care.”
The President called Michael on his mobile. Within moments, Michael was at his side.
“Listen carefully, Michael,” the President said. “I need to return to Washington D.C. immediately. Please inform the pilot to have the plane ready. I’ll have both breakfast and lunch onboard. Make arrangements for that. I’m going to get ready — and please send Mrs. Wilson.”
Michael was turning to leave when the President stopped him again. “Also, inform my physician to be ready to accompany me.”
As the President went to get dressed, Michael rushed off to carry out the orders with little time to spare. Alerting the pilot meant informing the commander of the two Boeing 747s designated as Air Force One. For security reasons, either of the two aircraft might be used — a standard protocol.
The President was dressing when Mrs. Wilson entered the room.
“Darling,” he said gently, “I have to return to the capital immediately — urgent affairs of state, you understand. I’ll have breakfast on the plane, but I’ll come to the dining hall to say goodbyes. Meanwhile, could you please pack my suitcase, and have it sent to the aircraft?”
Mrs. Wilson embraced him quietly, saying only, “Come back safe.” The President smiled faintly but said nothing. Some partings are too heavy for words.
As she left to pack, he walked to the dining hall, where all the family members and friends — except Mrs. Wilson — were gathered. Everyone stood to greet the President. For a few seconds, all that could be heard was a chorus of “Good morning.”
When the greetings quieted, the President motioned for everyone to sit while he remained standing.
“Sorry, folks. I won’t be able to have breakfast with you. I must return to Washington D.C. immediately — urgent matters of state,” he said with a faint smile. “The U.S. President is not always lucky enough to finish a holiday. But please, all of you stay as long as you wish. When you’re ready to return, just ask Michael to arrange the plane. I must take my leave now. Take care — goodbye.”
It was an unexpected announcement, but unavoidable. Everyone understood the immense responsibilities resting on the frail shoulders of the 80-year-old man.
A few minutes later, from the balcony, Mrs. Wilson watched the motorcade vanish into the shimmering haze. A hollow tightness gripped her chest, though she could not say why.
On Board Air Force One
From the window of the plane, the President cast a glance at the sun-drenched coast. In that fleeting moment, it felt almost obscene that such beauty could endure while doom loomed unseen. He wondered if he’d ever see these shores again.
He called the captain to his cabin.
“Will we reach Washington D.C. well before 3 p.m.? The forecast says snow will begin around then.”
“Absolutely, sir,” the captain assured him.
The President smiled. “I’m sure we’re in safe hands.”
He had breakfast onboard with his physician. The doctor, surprised by the abrupt end to the trip, voiced his concern.
“I won’t ask why you had to cut short your holiday — there must be pressing reasons. But it’s not good for your health.”
“I wasn’t happy about ending it either, Doctor,” the President said. “But the world’s health matters more than mine.”
“Is there any danger of another COVID-19-type outbreak?”
“No, no pandemic or epidemic. It’s something more serious. I can’t give you details, but I must ask that you not repeat anything I’ve said. If anyone asks, just say I returned due to urgent matters of state.”
After finishing breakfast, the President told the doctor he wished to be alone for a while. Once the doctor left, he picked up the phone and called his Secretary, Olivia Garcia.
“Listen carefully, Oli. I’m already on the plane, returning to the capital. Please make the necessary arrangements at the airport. I should be at the White House within six hours, at most. Immediately after arrival, I want to meet with the Secretary of Defence, Secretary of State, National Security Advisor, Science Advisor, and the Administrator of NASA. Call them and deliver my message.”
He continued, “Considering the forecast of heavy snow and a storm this afternoon, inform them they should be prepared to stay overnight at the White House. Make sure proper arrangements are made for food, refreshments, and accommodations — both for them and for their drivers.”
“Understood, boss. Everything will be taken care of.”
“Thanks, Oli. One more thing — this meeting is top secret. The media must not know anything about it. I hope that’s clear.”
“Yes, sir. You can rest assured. No news will leak from the White House.”
“Thanks again. So long.”
“Smart girl,” the President murmured to himself.
He looked out the window. The sky was bright, the sun shining through floating clouds. Everything seemed calm and normal. Now, as he stared out the aircraft window into a deceptively calm sky, the tick of that cosmic clock echoed in his mind — steady, merciless, and inescapable. He wondered whether humanity’s last sunrise had already begun — and no one knew it yet!
The bones in his back ached — as if echoing the tension in the planet’s crust, waiting to shatter. He sank into the reclining sofa, closed his eyes, and began to contemplate the possibilities — both the best and the worst. Moore’s words echoed in his mind: If the asteroid is not diverted from its path, it may hit the East Coast of America — and that would be disastrous.
Disastrous to what extent? He was quickly consumed by deep thought. Would the asteroid strike America? How dangerous could it be? Will America be finished, will millions die? Will I not be alive after 21 days? Could such an impact shake the entire planet, triggering a global earthquake? Would it result in worldwide devastation?
He felt the weight of the nation pressing against his bones — not just as a President, but as a tired old man asked once again to carry the unbearable. Yet even in fatigue, duty would not release its grip. The world needed resolve, not rest. He was not just a leader summoned to duty; he was a weary soul asked to rally the courage of a world he might not live to see saved.
The President began to feel overwhelmed. An idea came to him: Could the asteroid be intercepted by missiles, deflected away from its trajectory? But should the United States act alone and risk depleting its stockpile of powerful missiles, weakening itself in the eyes of the world? After all, the threat was global — it was the responsibility of every military power with long-range missile capability to contribute.
He felt like he was sinking under the weight of it all. He summoned his physician, who checked his blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen level. The doctor administered a mild sedative to help him rest before lunch.
When he awoke, it was 1 p.m.
“My God,” he muttered. “I slept for almost three hours.”
A few minutes later, the doctor entered his cabin unannounced. The President hadn’t called him — he had come of his own accord to check on his patient’s condition. He advised the President to have lunch and take some more rest so that he would be fully fit upon arriving in Washington, D.C.
“Join me for lunch,” the President invited.
After the meal, the doctor took his leave, leaving the President alone once again — alone with his thoughts, and in desperate need of rest.
But rest eluded him. His mind returned to the looming danger. He could think of only one possible solution: missiles.
‘If even missiles can’t stop the asteroid, he thought, then all the military power on Earth is useless. If that’s our destiny, so be it. Everyone has to die one day. Better that all die together. No one would be left behind to grieve.’
The magnitude of the threat had made the President philosophical.
He was not afraid of death. He was afraid of dying knowing he had failed them all.
Beyond the cabin window, unseen by human eyes, the cosmic clock’s invisible pendulum swung closer to catastrophe.
Every moment now was a thread fraying.
The sky smiled. The Earth turned.
And death crept closer, unseen.
In the vastness above, the cosmic clock was winding down, tick by tick, for the world.
The plane landed at 2:30 p.m. Within half an hour, the President was back in the White House. Hoping that none of the meeting attendees had arrived yet, he instructed his secretary to take care of those who would be coming and to inform him once everyone had arrived.
Beyond the frosted windows of the White House, winter crept closer.
And far beyond that, hurtling through the silence, death wore the face of a wandering star.
_________
Kindle edition of the fiction “Shiva’s Strike in the Sky” is available on Amazon.
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