What if?

Some called her clairvoyant while others called her witch. There were even some who called her a fake. Henna wasn't concerned with what people thought of her. She knew the visions in her dreams came true. As early as age three, she could see into the future.

It wasn't as if you could ask her if you were going to get a raise, or win the heart of the handsome man you met last night. These clips of the future were erratic, but if she told you something was going to happen, it did. Unfortunately, she had little control of her gift. Dreams aren't predictable.

For all the good she did helping others, she never collected a penny. Money was only a means to pay the bills, and to keep enough fat on her bones so they wouldn't rattle when she walked. She enjoyed her job as a marketing research representative, even though the pay was barely more than minimum wage. People contact made it worthwhile. She was a talker.

The latest survey she was hired to do was fascinating. Some major science publication wanted to poll people for their thoughts about the millennium and what it would hold for them and the world. Could human life be cloned and if so, should we? Will civilization run out of natural resources? Would you like to live forever if science offered that option? And the most jarring one, if life as we know it were to end, would you want to know?

For some crazy reason, thirty-four per cent of those responding didn't want to be warned about the end of mankind. Henna couldn't fathom their reasoning. Wouldn't they want to spend their last hours with someone special, or do something mind-boggling that they would never have attempted otherwise? She was sorry her opinion couldn't be counted, not that her vote would have made a significant difference.

Henna tried to forget the survey, but it haunted her. She found herself asking everyone she knew that one question, 'What if there were no tomorrow'. If they wanted to be alerted, she would interrogate them for hours on how they would spend their last days. Those that didn't want to be told were subjected to an intense cross-examination on their rationality. After a while, all her friends started avoiding her. It was difficult not to feel sorry for her eating dinner, all alone in a corner, even though she had pushed the self-destruct button herself.

Who knows what will trigger someone to go off the deep end? For some, it can be a life threatening addiction, such as drugs or alcohol. For others, it may be a compulsion to playing the lottery or even the Internet. Obsession, no matter how innocent, can have such a death grip on your life that you end up smothering in the fixation.

Yesterday, Henna quit her job and went shopping. I saw her step out of a white, stretch limousine. It was idling in front of a five-star restaurant and the chauffeur escorted her to the door. A diamond bracelet on her arm twinkled as she handed him her chinchilla coat. Before disappearing inside, I caught her smile. It reminded me of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. She stepped inside and I, standing but a few feet away, couldn't help but wonder if she came into an inheritance.

Later that day, one of her acquaintances told me she was going to France. I envied her. The good fortune to be able to quit one's job and travel the world. Then it hit me--Henna was an orphan. I remember her telling me this, a few weeks ago. It was the same day she told me she wanted to see Paris before she died.

What would you do if you found out the world were going to end? I just bought two tickets to Tahiti.

Judith Tracy's short stories have appeared in both print (Hot Blood X and the upcoming horror anthology, The Dead Inn) and E-zine publications. The short story, "White Gloves", appeared in Ascent.) February 28, 2001, my sci-fi book, "Destiny's Door", will officially be released by Padwolf Inc., followed by two Young Adult, fantasy novels (three and four in a series) in the Spring.

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