Generally, life as an astrophysicist is boring. Cataloging data. Playing around with theories. Though we do see things from time to time that....invigorate our work.
Three months ago, we were privileged to see a star, SB1074, simply....disappear. 42 light years from Earth, it was amazing. No black hole. No supernova. It just....vanished.
It caused a stir in our scientific community. Theories were tossed out. Hypotheses were made. It was an exciting time.
A week later, when another star, SL2044, did the same, we redoubled our efforts, Symposia were held. Professors from all over met. Discussions over champagne, expensive wines, ludicrously priced dinners were had. People talked about upcoming papers, theories to teach in their colleges.
Two weeks later, when 27 stars had vanished, the novelty wore off.
We were still working, but the tone had grown grim. It wasn't limited to a single area of space. They were vanishing from all over.
Mostly this was still only an observation of the scientific community. We would occasionally get the random email from an amateur stargazer, who had noticed something odd.
Three weeks ago, when the total reached 398 vanished stars, there was no humor. Just a sense of.....dread.
Everyone that attended our university in this field, students and professors, had been asked to compose all their thoughts, ideas, concepts, etc. We were going to meet today at 1 p.m. to discuss our theories.
As I stand in my bedroom, looking out the window, I can't help but feel that our scheduled conference is a waste of time. After all, it's 10:45 in the morning. And it's pitch black outside.
WRITTEN BY : CARL KPA SUBMITTED BY : UTKARSH SHUKLA
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