The End

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The End…? Essay, Research Paper It is three o?clock in the afternoon. A cool wind blows across the frozen plain. It was a typical March afternoon on the Siberian plain, somewhere deep in the Russian wilderness. The flaura and fauna that inhabit this environment are the product of hundreds of millions of years evolution, the time it takes to virtually perfect a species. They continue to go about their game of preditor and pray, unaware of the petty political struggles that are going on thousands of kilometers away. The calm is broken by the sudden roar of the engines in nearby missile silos. The weapons of destruction are pushed skyward by boosters strapped to the bottom of the rocket, propelled by liquid propellant that took hundreds of man-hours to refine. A few small,

innocent mammals are burned by the extending flame. These were the first casualties. As the missiles roared out of the atmosphere, a small, tiny, insignificant blip appeared on the radar screen of a junior officer in the NORAD command center, safely hidden under a few hundred metres of granite in Colorado. The officer alerts his commaning officer immediately. That officer alerts his commanding officer. The word continues through the chain of command until the President of the United States recieves a phone call at about two in the morning. He immediately authorizes a nuclear strike. A coyote howls as the American missiles stream toward the sky in much the same fashion as the Russian missiles. The sleeping mice are awaken by the load roar and the sudden rush of heat. A few moments

later two missiles detonate slightly above the ground and aniahlate the missile complex. All of the technicians and support staff die. A blip similar to the first appears on a Russian radar screen. The officers watch as their orbitting satalites send them photos of the damage. A few of the senior officers smile a wicked smile, and laugh a strange laugh, as if to say ?We?re all dead. Look what we?ve done.? A missile fired by a Russian submarine splits into three equally deadly parts two kilometers above Detroit. Detroit was selected as an industrial target, because of the motor vehicle industry. This industrial target is home to over a million people. The warheads go off a few hundred metres above the ground. Downtown Detroit is immediately turned to dust and ash by the

instriments of war. The Renicance Center, which cost millions to build is blown to pieces. The sky lis lit up with the blast. A thirteen year-old girl lies in bed, unaware of the fact that in a few nanoseconds her life, and the life of her peers, will be changed forever. The thermal radiation, travelling at the speed of life, sweeps across the city in an instant. Hundreds of thousands are burned and many recieve a lethal dose of radiation. The girl is one of those. A few seconds later the shockwaves of the blasts, which have united to become one powerful stormfront sweep through at several times the speed of sound, turning concrete to powder. It extinguishes the fires started by the thermal radiation, and then starts some new ones of its own. Those who are driving in their cars

are thrown with their vehicles tens of metres. Almost everything recieves some ammount of structural damage. The girl?s house is no exception. All of the glass in the windows shatters, and flies out in all directions. The house collapses, and the girl wakes up pinned down by a beam that has fallen from the roof. She tries to cry out, but the beam has knocked the breath out of her. There she lies for an hour, unable to do anything, still unsure of what happened. She smiles crazily, and thinks to herself, ?I guess there won?t be school tomorrow,?. She slips off into oblivion, dieing because she recieved five thousand times her yearly dose of radiation. A single tear rolls down her cheek, just before she dies. It is not just the targets of these weapons who are destroyed. Winsor,