And knowing that, they could make preparations. Some of those were internal: making your peace with your God. Others had to do with passing on one’s legacy to the next generation.
And that was where things got interesting, because none of the traditional legacy-passing schemes was going to survive the Hard Rain. There was no point in drawing up a last will and testament, because all of your possessions were going to be destroyed along with you, and there would be no survivors to receive them.
The legacy was instead going to consist of whatever the people of the Cloud Ark did in the centuries and millennia to come. The Cloud Ark was the only thing that mattered.
They did it at Crater Lake, Oregon. The State Department had commandeered the rustic lodge perched high above the lake on the crater’s rim, flown in the dignitaries, crammed the nearby campgrounds and parking lots with security and media and logistics. At this very moment, marines out on the highway were turning back disappointed holidaymakers, telling them the park was closed, letting them know that they should turn on their radios and listen to the news if they really wanted to understand why. To put the disruption of their vacations into perspective.