End of the World as We Know, I Feel Fine

  Maurice sat down at his desk very slowly, knees sore from age, or experience as his wife used to called it. Selecting his favorite fountain pen and a fresh sheet of paper, he began to write. Nothing profound, but he had had a slow day and felt that writing might liven things up. Besides, his grandson, Henry, always enjoyed the stories he sent home with him after an afternoon visit.

Just as he was about to start writing, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it!” Margo, the housekeeper, called. Outside his office, Maurice could hear a frantic discussion and a thlunk as the umbrella stand was knocked over. The guest was obviously in too much of a hurry to see him. But who would be rushing around this time of night? The old house did not see that much excitement except for when Henry was here, and it was far past his bedtime by now.

  “Maurice! Thank God you’re here!” the figure exclaimed, stepping quickly into the room.

“Where else would I be Laurence?” Maurice looked quizzically at his friend of many years.

“Have you not heard the news? It’s on every radio and television station in the world!”
“Oh, no. To be honest, I haven’t tuned in for quite some time now, I don’t enjoy most of the new music, and the oldies are a reminder of days long gone.”
“But-Maurice! They’ve finally disproved free will! The people are rioting! Every storefront downtown has been smashed and looted! I don’t even want to think about what it’s like in the bigger cities!”
“Oh, probably much, much worse.”

“How can you be calm at a moment like this? This is life changing! The very fabric of society has been torn asunder by this announcement! Nothing matters anymore; consequences are meaningless! I could kill you where you sit right now and no court would even think to hold me responsible!”
“Then why haven’t you?” Maurice looked up at Laurence through his thick-framed glasses. He needed new lenses, his eyes had gotten worse in the past year. Maurice hoped that no one was trying to loot the office; he had an appointment on Tuesday.

“I…I don’t know. I suppose I’m not meant to kill you."
"Mm. That is probably true."

"I-buh-uh...What are you doing anyway?"
"Oh, just writing a story for Henry. It's not late enough to go to bed, but not early enough to do much of anything else."
"And you have no desire to go out and do anything you want?"

"Well technically it wouldn't be what I wanted, would it? It would be this manipulating force that they've just discovered. Did they say what it was? Some sort of god or something?"

"Erm... I suppose not. But you feel no push to run out and join the riot or anything like that? And no, I don't recall what they said it was..."
"Well, considering that this 'force' has not pushed me to do anything like that before, even when I was physically capable of doing such things, no. No, Laurence, I think I'm going to sit here and finish my story, get a cup of hot cocoa, start a book, and fall asleep with the light on, like I do almost every night."
"What about all those people running around? Aren't you afraid?"

Maurice looked out the window above his desk. He could see people running around with flashlights and improvised clubs, and even heard the occasional gunshot. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, considering the implications of fear.

"Margo just let you in without question?"

"Yes... She knows who I am," Laurence said slowly.

"Irrelevant," Maurice said, waving the idea away with his hand. "And you say you are not here to kill me?"
"Of course not! Are we not friends?"
"Again, irrelevant," Maurice said, standing up. "No, Laurence, I don't think I shall be afraid tonight. If this 'manipulator of fate' wanted me dead, you would have done it long before, and if not then, now, before even alerting me of your presence," Maurice mused, clapping Laurence on the shoulder. "But if you feel afraid, you are perfectly welcome to wait the riots out here, Margo will make up the guest room."
"Um... No, thank you old friend. I suppose I shall be going..." Laurence fixed his coat and hat and turned to leave. Maurice walked Laurence to the door, who glanced around furtively before running to his car. 

"What a dull discovery." Maurice walked back to his office, sat down, and finished his story.