We all stand, watch the clock count down. We’re not sure how long it’s been counting down, but there are eight decimal places already wound down to zero. Only three places left, and they will be zeroes soon. Our ancestors knew they wouldn’t live to see it.
The immense doors have been there all our lives but are only now important: they will open whatever has become of the outside to us.
What if that world is a blackened cinder? Or, what if we have left it too long, and it belongs to someone else?
What if they don’t open?