Selected Passages from Mr. Hobbsโ Vacation (1953) and Station Eleven (2012)
Spoilers for both books.
Mr. Hobbs prepares himself for the end of his vacation:
It took courage to throw himself into the chilly water, yet, even as his flesh shrank from the shock, he was depressed by the realization that it was the last time this would be soโthe last time he would struggle, on the way to the cove, with his enemy, the pumpโthe last time he would balance uncomfortably on the barnacle-covered rocks trying to wash off the sand before putting on his sneakersโthe last time he would feel the sharp edges of clam shells scrunch beneath his feet. It was curious how one became sentimental about the inconveniences of lifeโnever about the conveniences. No one had ever gone into a tailspin about turning off an electric light for the last time or rinsing a razor under the hot-water faucet or defrosting an icebox. Mr. Hobbs dried himself slowly as he pondered this important matter. The sea gull, who had been watching him, concluded that the daily nuisance was over and returned to his rock.
A nameless narrator recites a listicle following the deaths of 99% of the worldโs population:
AN INCOMPLETE LIST: No more diving into pools of chlorinated water lit green from below. No more ball games played out under floodlights. No more porch lights with moths fluttering on summer nights. No more trains running under the surface of cities on the dazzling power of the electric third rail. No more cities. No more films, except rarely, except with a generator drowning out half the dialogue, and only then for the first little while until the fuel for the generators ran out, because automobile gas goes stale after two or three years. Aviation gas lasts longer, but it was difficult to come by. No more screens shining in the half-light as people raise their phones above the crowd to take photographs of concert stages. No more concert stages lit by candy-colored halogens, no more electronica, punk, electric guitars. No more pharmaceuticals. No more certainty of surviving a scratch on oneโs hand, a cut on a finger while chopping vegetables for dinner, a dog bite...
Mr. Hobbs and his family, and all the other summer people, have left the island:
And over the villages of the Island and their white-spired churches, over the woodlands and the farms and the moors, over the lonely, rustling dunes and the cold offshore waters, the seagulls circledโcompletely indifferent to the comings and goings of men.
The night of the outbreak, a famous actor dies before he can become sick:
A man in the front row was rising from his seat. Arthur cradled his hand to his heart, exactly as heโd held the bird. He wasnโt sure where he was anymore, or perhaps he was in two places at once. He could hear the waves on the beach. The stage lights were leaving trails through the darkness the way a comet had once, when he was a teenager standing on the dirt outside his friend Victoriaโs house, looking up at the night, Comet Hyakutake suspended like a lantern in the cold sky. What he remembered from that day at the beach when he was seven was that the birdโs heart had stopped in the palm of his hand, a fluttering that faltered and went still. The man from the front row was running now, and Arthur was in motion too; he fell against a pillar and began to slide and now snow was falling all around him, shining in the lights. He thought it was the most beautiful thing heโd ever seen.