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Eden was on the train when they first caught wind of it. Bones aching with the strain of a full shift, eyelids heavy with the weight of customer service, their phone vibrating in their pocket nearly wasn't enough to get their attention. They'd decided not to take the call. Bothering the nearby passengers wasn't really a concern, but the rare chatter and rumbling of the wheels against tracks would be a challenge to hear over.
A few minutes pass mercifully. Once the train arrives at the next location, the car doors struggle open and squeak obnoxiously like they do every night. More passengers shuffle into the crowded car like sardines pressed tight in their can. Eden's phone vibrates again in their pocket, an annoying feeling playing on their outer thigh. Still resolved to ignore it, Eden reaches a hand in their pocket and silences it without even a glance.
People who are heading home after a long day of work always have the same look about them. Their eyelids are drooping—just like Eden's. Their limbs are heavy—just like Eden's. Everyone's mind is blanketed with a thick fog of exhaustion; their brains only operate at just the amount required to get on the train and get off at the right stop. Nothing more.
People taking the train this late might glance at their phone, they might scroll endlessly down algorithms in futile hopes of driving back the despair of the workday. If they absolutely need to, they'll take a call that comes through, like the call Eden is skirting. But an unknown energy ping ponged through the people standing and sitting in the car, from one to the next. Each slowly pulling out their phone, notifications buzzing at them and eyes catching interest.
Eden notices it. It's strange, and only makes them yearn for their station's stop more. Their suspicions are only raised further when whispering breaks out among passengers—passengers that Eden is sure don't know each other. These are passengers that Eden has witnessed on this train nearly every night. They come in, they sit, they cling to the standing pole, their bodies wax and wane directions with the pull of the car, but no words are ever exchanged between them—why now?
Eden's phone buzzes in their pocket again.
It's frustrating. They do not want to take this call; now it is a matter of principle. They've decided not to take it until their stop has come—can't the person on the other side of the line put that together? Eden takes the train at almost the same time every night, the caller should have some understanding. They aren't taking this call—
The vibration ends. The call goes to voicemail. The car comes to a stop, their station has arrived. Eden carefully makes their way through the door and up the stairs, out to the cold night air of the city. As they start their short walk, they finally pull their phone from their pocket.
When Eden realizes it's their mother, their muscles freeze all at once. Their mind rapidly spirals with the possibilities—had someone died? Was she hurt? Eden swiftly returns the call and adjusts the headphones atop their head.
"Eden!" Their mother's urgent voice booms into their ears. Eden hisses in pain and slams the volume-down button on their phone over and over with their thumb.
"Present." They answer. "Are you okay?!"
"Have you seen the news?!"
"No, I just got off work… I was on the train, you know." They felt the need to throw that in there. To remind her that routine was routine, and accepting a call on a train is a nuisance.
"I just—It's all over the news, I don't know what it means, but it's freaking me out." Her voice wavers. Eden wonders what fearmongering the anchors have been up to today, but she continues without sparing even a second for a guess.
"Jupiter is gone," her last word comes out like a whisper. "They don't know where it is. It didn't explode, didn't go anywhere, it was… It was there, and then it wasn't. That is what they are saying."
"What?" Eden reaches up with a free hand and scratches the back of their head. "Are you sure you weren't watching a drama or something? That's not really possible, Mom."
"I-I'm not crazy, Eden. This was on the News. I looked it up on my phone too—it's on all the big news sites, the small news sites, it was on my feed—your uncle is even talking about it!" Her voice shakes, desperation for Eden to believe them clear in every syllable. Their stomach turns. They conclude that she's serious, but any of the implications are scary.
After listening to the details and gently advising her that they needed to get home, they end the call with a promise for a callback in the morning. As they wait in the elevator, they go over the facts given to them:
-
Jupiter is no longer there. In the space where it was, there is nothing.
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Astronomers and physicists noticed nothing strange occur to it. Nothing we were aware of, so far, led up to this.
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It did not explode, combust, disintegrate, move, or do anything. It simply was there, and then it wasn't there.
There was one more important detail. One that stirred the dread bubbling in Eden's stomach. But Eden waited to confirm it themself. They got home, threw their keys on the counter and changed out of their greasy, waffle-smelling work uniform. They delayed their investigation, however, and hopped into the shower.
They stood still for a long time and let the steam rising off of the hot water take their thoughts with it as it disappeared upwards into the vents. Sometimes, if Eden was lucky, there'd be enough good hot water to get a real scalding shower, but not tonight. The warm water is enough for steam, but not enough for Eden's comfort. They close their eyes and pretend it's enough. The shower cries for Jupiter in Eden's stead, beads of water slide down to the end of their eyelashes and eventually drop off their face towards the drain.
They extend their shower for as long as possible. Prolonging their investigation might change the truth, after all. Eden figures if they spend enough time in the shower the astronomers and physicists will all have found Jupiter. 'It was an unfortunate clerical error,' someone would say on a News Network, 'We deeply apologize for the confusion and panic that we caused and will strive to make efforts that this doesn't happen again.' Those were the words Eden wanted to hear. So, they shampooed their hair slowly, thoroughly, like someone who knew how to take care of themself. When came the conditioner, they imagined every strand needed its own attention.
Were they being honest, Eden wasn't sure themselves why they were avoiding it. Why they clung so desperate to hopes it wasn't true.
But it was.
After their shower, as the clock ticked to 2:03am, they confirmed the facts while nestled amongst blankets and pillows in bed. What they feared most was confirmed true:
"This should have consequences," the physicist speaks to a crowd of reporters, "If Jupiter is truly gone, then the entire solar system should be feeling it. Jupiter is an important part of our system, the g-gravity," their voice wavers and displays blatantly their public speaking inexperience for the crowd. In an effort to remedy it, they clear their throat. "We should be experiencing massive disruptions—I do not want to alarm everyone, but theoretically speaking… This… This should be a near apocalyptic level event for us." There's a tension in the room. Even reporters, people who are always reaching for the most exciting headline, looking for news to rattle and grab eyes—tensed.
"B-But," the nervous physicist continues, "There have been none. The gravitational pulls between all of the planets, the sun, the earth, the moons—they are all acting the same. It is like Jupiter is still there."
A hand raises.
"Did Jupiter have any moons? What about them?"
"Jupiter has many, many moons," they inform. "Currently we record 97, along with several other moon-like objects in its pull. Those, too, are gone."
Another hand.
"If the gravitational pulls are all the same, then perhaps is Jupiter still there? Is it just not visible?"
"That is extremely unlikely to be the case, unless Jupiter for some reason became see-through—err, transparent. And all of its moons would have as well. We also were able to capture footage of its disappearance, but the footage is, at this time, not very revealing."
The video ends. Eden scrolls down the news site's page, and posted just a paragraph or two below is the video they had collected of Jupiter disappearing. It's grainy, not in any detail. Jupiter is just a white smudge on a black background, decorated with annoying noise and tiny specks Eden assumes are stars in the background. When the video starts, it almost seems like a still image. But at about 5 seconds in, Jupiter just disappears. Flickers out of existence like someone had flipped a switch, pulled a lever. Like the moment after a lightbulb burns through its tungsten.
It's nothing remarkable, really. Eden can't imagine that any amount of time spent watching this video could reveal any more truths about Jupiter's disappearance. Isn't Jupiter the largest planet? How strange that it would be the one to go. They wonder if maybe it just got tired of this solar system, hit the road and found some stars it was more comfortable around.
They exhale slowly and stare unblinkingly at their lit phone screen while it times out and fades to black. They let it fall from their hand onto the mattress and turn over onto their back, blankets rustling alongside them. Car horns honk outside occasionally. In the vacuum of their room, they can hear voices drift through the window of old acquaintances meeting on the sidewalk. Neither of them seem to know yet. Eden wonders if it would change their mundane conversation.
Eden lies awake for what feels like an eternity, mulling this over in their mind. Why should they care? They aren't an astronomer, no physicist, and the world seems fine so far. They aren't getting paid to worry about it, so they shouldn't lose any sleep over it. Especially given that they have to return to work tomorrow.
Yet dread gnaws at the marrow deep within their bones. Eden didn't pay a lot of attention in science class, but laws of physics aren't the kind of laws meant to be broken. So many questions flit about their mind, so many realities of life now seem flimsy. The experts will handle it. Eden will just need to wait for more information to come. That physicist guy wasn't very confident in talking to the reporters, but that must be because he's so good at all of the science stuff. So Eden will wait for him and all of his little science buddies to come together and find Jupiter. They'll find it, and the reveal will be so cool that seven or so mediocre movies recreating the events will release over years, well into Eden's middle age. Maybe one will be a cult classic, but it's not likely. Yes, this is the future Eden predicts.
With this comfort, Eden eventually sleeps.
The next day, Eden wakes and stuffs the bad omen that is their phone under their pillow. They start their day with acetaminophen and a leftover energy drink, pull on some fresh clothes, and toss their work clothes into the washer. They'll swap it over later. For the morning, they go to the one place they know people will be happy to see them.
"Hey." Eden quietly announces their arrival, coinciding with a small dinging bell attached to the door sporting a 'We're Closed!' sign.
"Hey." A red haired man in a camo-patterned tank top stands behind the bar, scrolling on his old phone with a cracked screen.
The BeelzePub is a small bar with a shitty name Eden's friend Mark has been trying to start up, over and over for years. He'll save up some money, open the bar and it'll pull customers in for a few weeks before the money dries up and he shutters it—only sparing enough for the rent. Every time he's got enough to make the orders he needs, he swears it'll work out permanently this time. That he can quit his day job and focus full time on the bar and his kid. Eden really hopes that's the case this time.
In the downtime, however, it functions as a meeting place, a safe haven, a getaway.
"I've been texting you all fuckin' morning." Mark sits up a little straighter as Eden takes their spot across from him at the bar. He gets to work getting them a glass of water, slides it across to them like it was a beer.
Eden takes it and nods their head as thanks. They take a sip, and the cool water wakes them up a tiny bit more than they were before.
"I left my phone at home." Eden shrugs. "I couldn't stand to look at it anymore."
"So, you've heard?" Mark cocks an eyebrow. Eden shrugs.
"I heard that a whole planet is gone. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about it."
"I don't like it, that's for sure." Mark crosses his arms. Eden isn't sure how to respond, so they let silence overtake the conversation for a moment. When Mark finally seems to have something to say, the little bell of the door dings again to announce another friend's arrival.
"Gooood morning!" An energetic voice cuts through the air like a knife slicing birthday cake. Sophie bounces on up to the bar, the purse on her arm and the acrylic charms strung up to it jingling as she moves. Her hair is styled into two puffy buns, the hair shaped into the form of hearts on the end. Her eyeliner is intricate, done above the brightest pink eyeshadow and decorated with stamped-on hearts and glitter. She settles herself next to Eden and tosses her burdensome purple bag onto the counter.
"Morning." Eden and Mark respond at the same time, in the same dull tone of voice.
"Oh, don't be like that." Sophie shakes her head. "You guys are both glum about the news too?"
"I don't know if I'd call myself 'glum.'" Mark shrugs and moves to get her a glass of water. He always tries to get them to drink more. His fatherly instincts don't go away when his daughter leaves for school, Eden assumes.
"I just feel weird about it..." Eden admits. "I mean, I don't know… Should we get into it?"
Sophie doesn't answer, instead she shoves her phone in Eden's face with a toothy grin. "Look, hahaha!"
Her phone screen depicts a four panel comic on a white background, with the only subject being planets. In the first panel, it's just Earth. The second panel is earth and mars, then earth and saturn. The last panel is Earth and Jupiter, but Jupiter has been turned on its side and squished to look as though it's laying down. A popular meme format that Eden is quite familiar with. In response, Eden props an elbow on the bar and presses their cheek into their hand.
"Funny." Eden shrugs their shoulders.
"Oh come on guys." Sophie rolls her eyes. "Have a laugh! It's a bit funny, right?" She thrusts the phone in Mark's direction.
"I don't get it." Mark admits while squinting at the screen.
"It's like that comic, L-" Sophie starts to explain, but Eden cuts her off.
"I don't really want to laugh about it." They sigh. "I just want to know how I'm supposed to feel about it. Are we in danger? Is there gonna be some kind of apocalypse?"
"Well, as far as I get it," Mark speaks up, "If there was gonna be any kind of 'apocalypse,' it would have happened already."
"But, but, don't thinks take a long time to happen in space?" Sophie asks, tilting her head a little to the side. "Like, the light that is on the Earth now takes a while to get to us from the Sun, so maybe the apocalypse is like… late to the party."
Eden groans at the thought of impending doom.
"The light that comes to the earth takes like eight minutes to get here, I think. The guys I was listening to were sayin' that it's really unlikely that anything will happen, least by their measure. All I was hearin' is that anything that could've happened should'a happened already," Mark explains. "Which I guess means, they don't know how everything's fine, but right now they don't see a way that it changes."
"For now," Eden adds.
"Well, yeah," He concedes. "Science is always changing."
"Riiight." Sophie nods. "So, until we get some actual concrete evidence that our lives are changing, or that we're all gonna die, I'm gonna laugh about it. And I think you both should do it too. What's the point in being grumpy and sad about it? We're fine."
"You've got a point." Mark nods. "It's just hard, Sophie. 'M an atheist and all, and it's hard to think up a reason that the laws of physics could just up and change themselves. Not super keen on thinking there's some kind of divinity doing it, y'know."
"Yeah," Eden nods. "That's really what I'm struggling with, too. Not that I'm an expert on any of this stuff, but if Jupiter disappearing should have killed us, the why-it-didn't is really bothering me. I don't believe in any kinda god or gods either, so it's like… Either I gotta deal with the fact I've been wrong about that, or maybe we just don't understand how our world works.."
Sophie thinks for a moment before she responds. "I don't know what it's like to live without believing in an afterlife, or to live without believing in God. He's an important part of my day, every single day, every moment. So for me, I just like to believe that He is in control and if Jupiter is really gone, He has a reason for it."
"So, you just trust in him to take care of it all?" Mark asks. Sophie nods.
"What happens is His will, after all. But… I'll send an extra prayer or two His way askin' if he'll let us know what His will is, in this case." Sophie, chuckles. "I know you guys aren't believers but… I hope it can comfort you just a little that I'll be praying for both of you. Sorry if that's weird."
"Nah." Mark shakes his head. "Makes me happy that you care so much for me. And Eden."
Eden suddenly feels sick. They hop up from their seat and quietly let the two know that they need some air, and slip back out the door. The bell dings again as they exit. A breeze greets Eden as they shove their back against the brick wall and try to collect their thoughts. A thin film of sweat forms on their forehead. The world spins but they brace their weight against the wall.
Oh, Jupiter… Why have you gone?
Eden remembers they have work later. They head home without telling Mark or Sophie that they're leaving.
The earth turns on its axis, the moon orbits the earth, the earth orbits the sun, and all of the other planets follow suit. The days change, the seasons move along with them. Months begin to pass, but it was only days before everyone really forgot about Jupiter. Those first few days were hectic, though. It was all over the news, all over social media, embedded in every conversation and word spoken in public and private. Eden grew tired of the memes about it after the first night, but they quickly learned to cope. It wasn't hard. There's no better way to get your mind off of something than to take extra shifts, to pray that you have enough money for the rent this month. After all, Eden's landlord doesn't care that Jupiter is gone—the rent check is still due.
In the days that followed, hysteria came. People panicked and screamed, cults quickly formed. Conspiracy theories infiltrated the main media, wormed their way through group chats and seedy forums. Tensions rose to such heights that the police force began to enforce a temporary curfew in the city. This made Eden's life harder, cutting their hours at work. So they took earlier shifts, destroyed their sleep schedule, and considered adding a second job to the mix.
Only a month after the announcement, the nervous physicist had been shot and killed by a crazed lunatic, convinced the government was lying about Jupiter. Eden understood the sentiment, they had even wondered it themself. But hours of considering the motives, the benefits—Eden could find no reason to lie about such a thing. It made much more sense to conceal it, especially given the chaos that the discovery brought. And even given all of that: the physicist was not a government official. Their death meant nothing to anyone but the devastated family.
Many accepted that the world was now in the end times. Hungry readers poured through the fine print of Revelations; if John had predicted that the world's end would begin with Jupiter, then their sacred text was truly holy and their souls would be delivered unto salvation shortly.
Eden had no interest in any of that. They kept their head down and focused on bills.
But every night when their weary body would finally come to rest on their mattress, they would open their phone. Despite themselves, they would scroll every social media app installed on their phone, every news site—even the unsavory ones. They held onto the hope that someone would find an answer, and all of this would go away like it had never happened.
Little did Eden know that not only would no answer come, that no answer was truly needed.
After the first week, the memes all but disappeared, replaced by references from a long-awaited AAA game. Journalists and reporters attempted for a while to stir the conversation further about Jupiter—some outlets even resorted to interviewing the most controversial of conspiracists in their desperate search for clicks and ad revenue. But it all died.
Everything was fine. Life moved on with no need for the answers to Jupiter's mysterious disappearance. As long as it hadn't impacted their daily lives, it didn't matter to anyone. A passerby on the street might look up towards the night sky and remember a missing 'star.' Just like Eden, they had bills due, papers to turn in, a shift coming up or emails to answer. Returning Jupiter to its rightful place in the sky wouldn't fix any of that. The show went on, with or without that useless side character.
Eden sought comfort in Mark, Sophie, and handful of other friends. Sophie mostly moved on, but Mark shared many of Eden's feelings. Though they would try to discuss other things, their conversations operated like a boomerang and would always come right back to Jupiter.
"You know." Mark yawns his words out to the frigid December air. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he continues. "My little girl's school went and took Jupiter outta the curriculum. Just actin' like it was never there. Heard some parents arguin' about it when I picked her up."
"Yeah?" Eden shifts a little to avoid the smoke, back pressed against the bar's red-brick wall.
"Yeah."
"…Kind of depressing." Eden's breath mists in front of them. They glance to the cigarette to gauge the length of this 'smoke break.' It's too cold.
"A bit." Mark's eyes flicker over to Eden a few times while he clearly contemplates his next choice of words carefully.
Silence fills the inbetween.
"Hey." Mark elbows Eden after another puff of his cig. "It's gonna be okay though. Sky's still blue, sun still rises, all of that stuff. That's all that matters."
They know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Mark meant not a single word of his comfort. But Eden appreciates the sentiment, anyways.
Internationally, the search party was eventually called off. Sometimes, Eden thinks over the entire event again and only grows more sorrowful each time. It's a morbid thought to indulge, but Eden hoped that if they were to disappear, people would keep looking. Jupiter was now all alone, wherever it had gone, with no one to care for it and everyone to forget it.
So, it was over.
Jupiter is gone.
Jupiter is gone in two different ways, really. Jupiter is no longer in the sky, and everyone has forgotten all about lonely, missing Jupiter.
Jupiter is gone.