Somewhere in the vastness of outer space, there is being recorded our deeds for the day. What would happen if somehow we were able to get a glimpse into the place where this was taking place?
The ladder extends upward into an unknown recess, begging an inquisitive traveler to venture forth along its’ inviting pathway. “Do I dare go forward,” thought the traveler. The answer he gave himself was in the affirmative. What he saw in the small room was eerie to say the least. Through the fog filled room, blinked hundreds, if not thousands of computer monitors. Each displaying the same image; red buttons of various sizes and shades. Some small, and bright red, or a faded rose color. Others were mid to large size, but all were red buttons. Most of them had a sign that gave the message out in various words with the same meaning. DON’T PUSH IT!
The monitor in the center room was trained on a familiar room; yet I could not place it because of the fog. There was no sound coming from the monitors. Some were being pushed. While other fingers were poised above the dreaded contraption.
I felt a breeze blow through the room and the fog cleared for a moment around the large room that had my attention. There was a large desk in the room, with many men gathered around the console that was home to the red button. As the camera zoomed in I recognized the face of the man; it was the President of the United States. His finger was hovering above the red button, and sweat was pouring from his brow. With a nod to the men in the military uniforms, he pressed the button.
I knew what this meant. War had come and the world would end on this day; a Monday of all days.
A wall closed around me, and I found myself alone in a room of bright white. The intensity of the whiteness burned my eyes. I figured that I was in Heaven. I was wrong. When my eyes focused, I could see that the walls of another room were holding me prisoner.
Nuclear holocaust had not come when the President of the United States had pushed the button. No, it was much worse than that. What my eyes were revealing to me was a dilemma that could only come from the mind of a great sci-fi writer. It was worse than an invading army of teen agers from outer space. I saw that when each person pressed their red button an army was released to invade the Earth. When the president pushed his red button the final invasion force was set free from the depths of the earth.
The earth was to perish under the feet of many thousands if not millions of gummy bears. Now I realized that for many years people had been causing our own distinction each time they pushed a red button.
In another room, a wiry, quiet man busied himself painting red buttons green.