Armageddon Time

When asked what he would do in the event of a nuclear war, my cartoon character Alex replied: “Sell. Everything.” Many of us who like him grew up during the Cold War will also have given some thought as to what we’d do when the three-minute warning of an impending nuclear strike sounds. Assuming, that is, that we get an official warning. It’s always seemed unlikely to me that our government would inform us of our impending annihilation. What, the same authorities who had rashly led us to nuclear war would admit to us that they’d screwed up and literally brought about the end of the world? No government likes to deliver bad news to voters, and even though this particular administration wouldn’t need to get re-elected (as whatever was left of humanity would presumably revert to mob rule for the next few centuries), I wouldn’t be surprised if they failed to let us know about the imminent cataclysm. Moreover, even if they intended to do so, would the civil servant whose job it was to put out the official warning actually bother? Most of us, knowing that we only had a few minutes to live, would choose to spend our remaining time on Earth doing something practical or fun (praying, hiding, having sex or getting drunk). How many of us would elect to spend those precious last moments doing our jobs? Even the British civil service’s famous keep-calm-and-carry-on mindset wouldn’t go that far.