Entomo-Eclipse

We stare at the sky as our world becomes dimmer. The constant drone is almost a lullaby. The sun is nearly gone, and as it slowly fades from view, we too fade into darkness. Holding hands, we think back on our lives as our minutes turn into seconds. I can’t hear my mother beside me but can see the tears streaming down her face. Her mouth fills with black as we begin to become one with the flies.

It’s hard to imagine a life without constant buzzing and blackouts.

My grandmother tells stories of her childhood, running around outside and catching fireflies in the evening, hearing cicadas calling through the sunsets. Stories like these seem almost too good to be true. How I wish I could harbor a love of insects like those in the past. In school, my teachers showed us pictures of beautiful creatures with wings of many different colors that would flock in huge numbers during their Great Migration. Some people say they smelled like flowers and kissed you on the cheek if you left out a bit of honey for them. 

Today insects are a bloodsucking threat to humanity. A flock of insects is not something to marvel at, but something to fear. The rising temperatures killed off a large majority of insects, with the first being pollinators like honeybees and butterflies. The extinction of these species led to the extinction of almost all plant life, which in turn caused a further extinction of insects. Those that remain are remarkably tolerant to the heat, rely solely on humans for food and energy, and have become immune to all forms of bug spray and pesticides. These superflies have begun to take over. As with many environmental issues, our efforts are too little, too late. 

We had plans to leave. The first warning sign came with the Avian Affliction, where massive numbers of bird deaths were found to have causes stemming from the birds’ diets. The flies had become so resistant to pesticides that the chemicals were no longer killing them but making them stronger. They absorbed the harmful substances until their bloodstream was lethal enough to kill their predators. After the birds came the death of other predators such as frogs, bats, and spiders.

With this news of deadly pests, the government began plans for relocation to a nearby planet, vacant of flies. By the time the plans were finalized, a quarter of the human race had been devastated by the superflies. People were scrambling to leave their homes. The first spaceship was loaded and they took off. But what they didn’t account for was the vast amount of insects that would derail their plans mid-air. The throng of flies in the atmosphere was large enough to devastate the rocket mid-flight. The spaceship was pushed off course by the swarm and thrown sideways into space, inevitably bursting into flame.

Each year they try again, but each year the swarms are larger, and the spaceship cannot break through. It is almost as if the insects know our plan and are trying to prevent our escape. On the day of the launch each year, the flies begin to flood the skies in larger and larger numbers, until the whole sky goes dark. A total blackout. The sun is completely covered by the swarm and the day feels like the night. This is what is known as an Entomo-Eclipse. 

The worst part is the buzzing. You can hear it all the time, of course, but during an Entomo-Eclipse, it reaches deafening decibels. It drowns out any and all attempts at human communication. The insects are loud enough to cover the screams and sobs of individuals who can’t believe the world has come to this. Or maybe their screams are caused by a breach in their Safety Suits, causing hundreds of flies to invade and overtake their body. 

Our only protection against these swarms is our Safety Suit: a government-mandated bodysuit that we are told to wear at all times in order to prevent the onslaught of flies who would like no more than to consume our entire blood supply. Like any government mandate, however, there are limitations to its effectiveness. Some flies are bound to find their way past the seams of the suit in their hunt for blood. Similar to some ancient fly traps, the flies can find their way into the suit, but cannot find their way back out. If flies infiltrate a person's safety suit, there is little hope of escaping the attack.

There are rebels among us who refuse to wear the suit. This insurgence comes with a cost: too many bites from the superflies can cause serious mental damage to humans. In their delirious state, the infected become walking zombies unable to speak, walk, or eat properly. You don’t live long once you get to this point. Most people don’t become rebels until they have lost all hope. 

This is why my family is currently standing outside in a field with no more than t-shirts and jeans. We have given up. We do not see the point in living this life any longer. We are giving ourselves up to the flies in hope of a better world in the next life. We reflect on the choices we have made that have led us to this and swear to never make those mistakes again.

As the countdown for the launch enters the single digits, and the buzzing begins to become all we know, we hold hands. The sky is dark. I look toward the heavens. The outline of the sun is just visible, and I think there is a beauty to it, this halo of light created by the horde of insects hellbent on preventing us from continuing life. The circle of life. The drone becomes a lullaby as I accept my fate. I turn to my right to find my mother as dark as the sky, an outline of a human enveloped in a persistent hum.