The Third Space Age The old man stands quietly on the empty dock. The small dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, stands still beside him. Both look at the sky. All is still, as it ever was. This, he knew, was the end of the third space age. The third and final space age. The old man stands quietly on the empty dock. No boats here, not fishermen, nor fish for the paupers. No scraps for the dog. Besides the man’s eyes look skyward, he’s not interested in fish today. He watches as the last distant contrail disappears into the clouds. The old man waits...until he can no longer see the last contrail of the last ever rocket to leave the Earth. ‘Come on Dog,’ says the old man to the dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, and they make their way back to the beach. All is still, as it ever was. There is no wind and there are no waves upon this beach, just silent sand and the still waters of the endless ocean. All is still as it had become, long since. Long since the moon had up and left. The moon who’s smiling face had crumbled and left this world. This was one of the many beginnings of the end. ‘Have I told you?’ says the man to the dog, ‘I never had the chance to dance with her, she would have been so wonderful to dance with,’ And so, the old man and the dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, walk wearily back to the shack on the empty and still beach of forever. Inside he sits at his desk with his typewriter from the bygone times and his last stack of fresh clean paper. He will write his history of the final age. The man talks to his dog as he types; the dog he found abandoned outside the aquarium, the dog he named ‘Dog’. ‘Dog,’ he says, ‘of course I don’t really remember the first space age, as it was so long ago, but I do remember the names. Gemini, Sputnik, Apollo, Mercury, Vostok. These were the names. Such beautiful names...’ ‘But that was all so long ago,’ he says. The dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, yawns and stretches by the fire. ‘And now,’ he says, ‘the last of the rockets has gone,’ ‘Of course,’ says the old man, ‘the second space age was pretty much over before it began,’. Dog looks up from where he is snoozing by the fire. Dog is grateful that there is still some warmth left in the world, however small. ‘They were all so optimistic,’ says the old man, what with their ideas they would colonise Mars, or the moon but then, came the plague...’ ‘You know, back then at the start of the second age, it was all fake news and panic,’. He doesn’t even look at the dog as he says this, he is just typing random letters onto his blank page, tap, tap, tap. ‘The truth is stranger than fiction,’ he says, ‘I had another dog like you once, he was called Dog too, but he was bigger than you. Have I told you that I don’t come from this world, this version of Earth? Yes, hard to believe isn’t it? I came through a bubble, a portal some might call it. My version of Earth was the same, except she was there and of course there was no plague. Have I told you? I never got to dance with her,’ ‘I’m glad I’ve got you to talk to,’ says the old man to the dog. The dog just scratches. ‘It was bad back then wasn’t it? When they began to realise there would be no cures. When the plague machines roamed the Earth...’ ‘The military retreated into armoured machines; tanks and cars and airships. Plague machines that roamed the Earth picking off the looters and the curfew breakers, the sad, the lonely and the dying. Vaccines came and went, new strains appeared and the plague marched on and populations dwindled like a fire falling to embers. And we hid didn’t we dog? We hid and now the last of the rockets has gone,’ The old man goes to the food store at the back of the shack. He throws a stale old biscuit to the dog. ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘the second space age wasn’t really a space age at all, it was merely the emptying of the world while you and I waited for the third age. While we waited for the war...’ The old man pauses, looks out through the only window at the seagulls screeching and scouring the beach for dead fish. ‘You know Dog,’ says the man, ‘when I think about it, I liked the start of the third age, the bit before the war when all those that were left alive had retreated into their bunkers and silos. Do you remember it Dog?’ The dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, looks up from his dirty blanket but he doesn’t reply. ‘Just you and me Dog, walking in the sunshine...’ ‘Of course,’ says the old man, ‘what we didn’t know was what they were building, what they were plotting underground. That’s when we met Delphine. Do you remember her Dog? She said I must be immune to the plague; maybe it’s because I don’t come from this version of Earth?’ The dog yawns, he’s heard this story before. ‘I think you liked her; she looked pretty beneath her breather mask. Reminded me of a girl from long ago, from my world. Did I ever tell you? I never got to dance with her...’ The old man fiddles with the dial of his antique radio. All is static, as it ever was. Dog stirs on his blanket, twisting and turning to the static radio sound like he always does when the old man tries in vain to find some voices. The old man goes back to his tap, tap typing. ‘I suppose we’ll never know who fired the first missile at the moon, the Russians, Chinese or Americans? Not that it matters now. The war to stop one side or other colonising the moon. I can’t believe we survived,’ ‘I suppose the true third space age didn’t begin until after the war, after the moon was destroyed and they knew it was all over. They must have been building the rockets underground all along Dog, the rockets to escape the Earth. And all the while Delphine had sent the masked soldiers to try and find us. While we hid in the forests and mountains,’ ‘The last time Delphine came alone; God knows how she found us here at the beach? She begged us to come on the rocket, I could save humanity she said, I was immune. They could develop a vaccine from my blood. I told her I needed to stay. I didn’t mean for her to die; the shotgun just went off. You know I didn’t mean it don’t you Dog? I’ve got to get back to my world. Through the bubble, through the portal. I want to go back...’ The old man stands on the sand at the edge of the still ocean on the beach of forever. The dog, who’s name was ‘Dog’, stands beside him. ‘I guess I’m the last Englishman,’ says the old man, ‘maybe the last man on Earth. Maybe I’ll get back to her. Did I ever tell you? I never got to dance with her...’