The end was coming. I told them it would. They called me crazy, and worse. But it didn’t matter. Facts were facts.

And the fact was our home, our world, was about to be struck by an asteroid that would wipe out 98% of all life. And that was a conservative estimate.

And it didn’t matter where that life was. On land and in the skies, what life wasn’t wiped out by the asteroid would suffer and die as a massive dust cloud blotted out the sun and choked the very air we breathed.

Life in the oceans would fair no better. No sunlight mean no algae. Species that survived on it would die out, species that survived on them would die out, and so on, and so on.

Maybe some of the insects would survive. They could feed on the corpses left behind. Maybe some of the newer species, the mammals, would, too.

The rest of us, along with our works, lovingly grow from genetically engineered seeds, would be wiped out. 160 million years of culture, art, and science, gone. With maybe some fossils to tell them we were ever here…