The Button

“Are you John Adamson?”

“That’s my name.”

“You have been selected to be the keeper of the box,” the stranger declared.

“What’s in the box?”

“A button.”

“A button,” John paused. “What does it do?”

“Well, John, it is a very important button – the most important in human history.”

“But, what does it do? And why me?”

“You have been selected because it seems you are the most impartial person on the planet, and you do not believe you must conform to certain…preconceptions.”

“But, I’m not impartial. I’m biased. Mostly I don’t even know the extent of my biases. I’m trying to work on that,” John hesitated. “Hmm…you’re right. I’ve always struggled to understand who I am. I’m probably not the most manly of men. Often I think I am a mixture of masculine and feminine tendencies. I’m not afraid to admit that. But still, there must be someone else, someone more suitable…” John tried to remain calm.

“There are, or rather were, other…candidates, but you appear to be the one who is trying hardest to confront their…preconceptions. And, you admit you have them, which puts you ahead of most people.”

“OK. I’ll have to take your word for all that. I’m still, let’s agree, older than most. Why not pick someone younger? Someone more…up to the task?”

“You are up to the task, John. The button chose you. I didn’t. Apparently, you have been drawn to the button, like all its previous caretakers. I believe…that is the button believes…you will take the responsibility seriously.”

The stranger handed the box to John. It was a small and round, made of one piece of polished stone, apparently very old, with engravings in a language John didn’t recognize. He held it in his palm, trying to make sense of it.

“You still haven’t told me what the button in this box does. I get that it’s important and a big responsibility, but what does it do, exactly?”

“Well, John. The best way to put it is that pressing the button under certain circumstances will bring about the end the world.”

“What!?” John instinctively tried to give the box back to the stranger. The man did not take it, but calmly responded, “Think of this box like the nuclear football, except thousands of orders of magnitude more existential. If the right situation arises – you and the button will both know when – the button will bring about the end of the Earth and all its inhabitants in less time than you can say your name. The process will be painless, as you would say, humane. One moment the world will be as it is. The next it will be gone – atoms ready to be used for a new purpose. Souls ready to move on to a new plane of existence – “to bliss or woe,” as Coleridge’s poem reads.”

“Oh. My. God. It’s a cosmic kill switch? This goes way beyond responsibility! The end of existence for billions of people and countless other forms of life. Wait. Am I on candid camera? Is this a prank? This can’t be real.”

“Open the box and press the button, John.”

“But you just said it would end the Earth.”

“It’s not yet time. In order to know, you must press the button, John.”

“Are you sure? Is this part of the prank?” John hoped his shaking fingers and sweating brow were not obvious, and none of this was being recorded.

“It’s not a prank, John. Please press the button,” the stranger said patiently, but emphatically.

John Adamson closed his eyes and gently pressed the button. In that moment, his mind’s eye saw what it could do. There was no denying it. He saw the end of the world. The button was not a prank. He also saw what it would not do. It would not react to personal feelings – anxiety, fear, depression, anger, hatred, revenge. It certainly would not respond to a mere suicide attempt. It would do nothing until the time was right. The button could only do what it was intended to do with the consent of its human caretaker. John and the button must agree that the end of the age of Earth had come. It was not a technological doomsday device, like a nuclear warhead. It was an intelligent entity tied to forces beyond human comprehension, forces that were to be called into action with a single touch of a human finger. And he could read the ancient inscription,

The end of the age is in our hands.

It occurred to John that no human should ever have this kind of power. The button reassured him of two things. First, no human had this kind of power on their own. It had to be entrusted, shared by the One who knew the true course of time. Second, the fact that he believed no human should possess this kind of power signified that he was the right person to share it. As strange as it seems, John and the button were of one mind, one intent. And both hoped John would never feel the necessity of pressing the button again.

John put the box in his pocket. He looked up and the man who brought it was gone. Thereafter, the box became an inseparable part of him, always in a pocket, or within arm’s reach. It appeared only when he thought to make it appear. As the years passed, he felt less need to check on the box. He grew confident it would be there if it was needed.

Late in his life, as the world became more and more divided, and conflicts among nations – especially among religious and political factions – intensified, he thought about the button more often. Was the purpose of sentient life simply to wage war of one kind or another until it all came down to a final confrontation that could only be resolved by a cosmic intervention? It seemed to John that humans could be better than this. It also seemed to him the Earth itself was growing tired of supporting an ungrateful species that refused to work together for its own good. The only species that possessed the intelligence to preserve itself and millions of other species seemed to lack the wisdom to do so. Ideologies, irrational beliefs, lies, and greed were tearing people apart, and the planet along with them. “Checkmate in three moves…” John sighed.

One spring morning, the box appeared in John’s hand, its lid open, the button ready…

While he was lost in thought, John’s granddaughter tapped him on the shoulder, “Here’s some hot chocolate, Grandpa. It looks like the sky is clearing. Maybe this will turn out to be a nice day after all.”

The box disappeared into John’s pocket. “Maybe. I was thinking about going out for a walk in a little while. Would you care to join me?” John reflected for a moment. “You know, you kids are our best hope. The future is in your hands.”

“That’s what you keep telling me, Grandpa. I’ll be ready for that walk in about ten minutes. We can watch the sun come up.”