Daylight Savings Time
Content Warning (click to expand)
global catastrophe
by Pauline Barmby
Gravitational waves from a passing interstellar comet perturbed the goddess’ abode, awakening her. The disturbance fading, she arose to the calm and peace of her mountaintop retreat. Around her, insects hummed contentedly and trees murmured in the breeze. Above her, the sky gleamed a brilliant blue. After her long slumber, the tranquil expanse seemed unchanged.
But what of the humans? Did they still remember her? What lore had been passed down over the millennia since she had retreated from their world? The goddess dispatched a messenger and anxiously awaited its return.
A mourning dove fluttered into view. The goddess held out a shapely arm and the bird settled onto her wrist as gently as a feather into a nest. She smiled and gently stroked its head.
“What tales do you bring, my dear?” the goddess asked, compassion in her amber eyes. “How have the Earth and humanity fared while I slept?”
The dove’s eyes glowed red, whether with sympathy or condemnation, the goddess could not say. “My lady, the humans have healed the Earth’s wounds, settled their differences, and developed cultures now blossoming into breathtaking sophistication. They have no further need of your guidance.”
A frown marred the goddess’ perfect features. If humans no longer needed her assistance, they would be unlikely to resume their worship. She had hoped that her long absence from the human realm would cause them to long for her blessings and forget her mistakes. She drew breath to respond—
“I jest,” said the dove. “Humanity is an unmitigated disaster. Poverty, pollution, prejudice, pestilence… and the other three horsemen have been sighted as well. Their situation is desperate. They badly need your help.”
Concern and anticipation warred on the goddess’ flawless face. The humans were in difficulty! The humans needed her! Calming herself, she gazed at her messenger. “Need I remind you, my dear, that we had previously chosen not to interfere directly in human affairs. How may we assist them in a… discreet fashion?”
The dove cooed thoughtfully. “Humans are exhausted by the demands of survival. Addressing the larger problems of their world, even making art or appreciating beauty… all of these require resources that many of them lack.”
Furrowing her brow, the goddess contemplated. Her previous attempts to aid humans — generating new land through volcanic eruptions, relieving droughts through changing cloud trajectories — had gone so poorly as to cause her to retire into obscurity and thence to torpor. What might she do differently this time?
“I know!” she exclaimed. “We will give them more time.”
Puzzled, the dove made a questioning troo.
“We will slow the rotation of the Earth,” the goddess explained. “Thus providing the humans with more time each day to refresh their spirits, contemplate the numinous, and ameliorate their circumstances.”
The dove lifted off the goddess’ arm to settle in a nearby tree, regarding her quizzically. “My lady, are you sure about this?”
The goddess glowered at the dove. “Of course I’m sure! I am your goddess.”
“You… perhaps haven’t considered all the possible consequences of a lengthened day? Winds, tides, geosynchronous satellites?”
“Lest you forget, our perception and intellect are far beyond your bird’s brain, my messenger,” the goddess replied. “Longer days will yield less haste; longer nights, more ease and greater contemplation of the heavens’ glories. We will give humans the gift of time and they will flourish. Now, shoo! Go, and observe their improved lives.”
The goddess put forth her power to slow the Earth. The dove fluttered away and she eagerly awaited its return with news of a revitalized and restored humanity. With their extra time, they would certainly be able to restore the Earth, and thence to appreciate her once more.
• • •
Astronomers were the first to notice the Earth’s slower rotation. Geophysicists followed, proposing elaborate explanatory hypotheses involving magnetic fields and tachyons. The suggestions of both disciplines to address the situation with carefully placed nuclear bombs in subduction zone volcanoes, or precisely targeted asteroid impacts, were politely ignored.
Regardless of scientific controversies, the dove’s predictions came to pass: weather patterns were thrown into disarray, tide tables became useless, and satellite communications collapsed. Animal behaviour became erratic, crops failed, and fewer mornings meant massive layoffs among radio show hosts. Night shift workers everywhere suffered, as always. In the ensuing chaos, very little contemplation of celestial beauty, spiritual renewal, or circumstantial amelioration occurred.
Ornithologists and ornithophiles around the world noted the unusual activities of species of the family Columbidae. Pigeons and doves of all kinds were observed to gather in large groups, closely scrutinise human activities, and migrate en masse for parts unknown. Where did they go? What had happened to them? In the face of humanity’s other troubles, the flocks’ fates were a minor concern to most.
• • •
Flocks of birds anxiously burbled across the forest floor or the goddess’ cloud-shrouded mountaintop. Tiny common ground doves, gruff city pigeons, and pink-hued laughing doves pecked and peeped, hopped and hoo-hoo-hooed. All of them waited to tell the goddess what they had seen. She gazed at them with affection but listened only to the slender-tailed mourning dove on her wrist, weeping as her messenger recounted the calamities of the mortal realm.
“So much pain and strife. We have only added to their problems, not relieved their burdens.”
“Alas, my lady, it is true,” said the dove, flicking tears from its feathers. Its fellow avians murmured with sympathy.
A resolute expression settled over the goddess’ exquisite features. “We must help them. We will do so by realigning the Earth’s year. After the planet’s journey around the Sun is lengthened to once again include the proper number of days, all will be in harmony once more. The troubles of humans and other creatures will be eased.”
The flocks surrounding the goddess and her messenger began to squawk in alarm. Flapping and sputtering, the dove lifted off into the air. “No, my lady—”
The goddess raised a graceful hand to the sky. “It is done.”
• • •
Unsurprisingly, an Earth moved further from the Sun only worsened the misfortunes of its inhabitants. The decreased solar flux accelerated crop failures and weather chaos and reduced the output of solar power stations despite the longer days. Astronomers and geophysicists continued their polite sniping in professional journals over the latter group’s increasingly outlandish explanations for the situation. The job market for morning radio show hosts improved, but only slightly, and most of humanity did not find this an acceptable compensation for the exacerbation of their other troubles.
While others were occupied with adaptation, survival, figuring out the timing of morning radio shows, and writing mean-spirited scientific manuscripts, a few dedicated ornithologists had been devoting their efforts toward solving the mystery of the missing pigeons and doves. They finally tracked the flocks to the slopes of the goddess’ mountain, a forested peak that somehow did not appear on any map or satellite image.
• • •
Gasping in the thin air, a small human of indeterminate age crested a trail’s summit to find himself in a verdant forest. The human peered around in wonder, taking in the gathered flocks and stepping carefully to avoid the multitudinous individuals and their droppings. A Eurasian collared dove circled his head.
The mountain shuddered underfoot. Birds took to the air, circling and squawking. A transcendent feminine voice echoed through the clearing. “Who enters my abode?”
The human shivered in awe as unseen power caused his legs to tremble. He fell to his knees, head bowed. “My name is Lee,” he said.
A pair of sandaled feet appeared in Lee’s field of vision. He lifted his gaze to see a beautiful woman with long dark hair and amber eyes, wearing a formal robe and a calm-yet-stern expression. “What brings you here, human?”
The man swallowed hard. He mumbled, “I’ve been searching for the missing Columbidae. I followed one here.”
A mourning dove on the woman’s left wrist flapped its wings and blinked at Lee. She offered a graceful right hand to pull the man to his feet. He calmed his racing heart and met the woman’s eyes. “May I ask, who are you?”
She sighed and the circling birds landed. “A question. It has been so long since a human asked anything of me.” A hint of power crept into the woman’s voice as she continued, “We are a goddess once known to humans. They once worshiped us, but when they ceased, we slept for aeons. When we arose, these birds — our companions and messengers — brought us news of humanity’s troubles. We attempted to assist.”
Lee’s face betrayed his scepticism. The being before him possessed unearthly beauty and charisma, to be sure, but a goddess? Still, billions of Columbidae had to mean something. And that voice… “Assist?” he repeated. He paused and a mind-boggling question formed in his mind. “Are you responsible for the longer days and years?”
There was a long pause.
“We are,” the goddess replied, dropping her gaze. “My messenger reported that too few humans had leisure to rest and look heavenward from their daily struggles. You were unable to create art, appreciate beauty, or worship the deities, such as myself, who were the inspiration for such things. We sought to give you more time.”
Lee stammered, “A…. a worthy goal.” Gathering his thoughts in the face of the goddess’ magnificence, he continued, “The changes did create many problems, as I’m sure your messenger has informed you.”
The mourning dove bleated a cry that sounded something like, “I told you so.”
The goddess nodded. “Indeed.” A single crystalline tear formed in each of her eyes. She radiated an aura of such profound sadness that Lee felt an overwhelming desire to alleviate it.
“Perhaps your despair could be relieved by undoing the changes you’ve made,” he murmured. “Restore the Earth to its former state. Return balance to the world and allow the doves and their kin to flourish among humans. They remind us of beauty in the world, and in those brief moments of joy we will remember your name.”
The goddess wavered. “If we reverse the changes and you inform others that we were the cause of their difficulties, they would more likely curse us than worship us once more. Without such a reversal, humans will continue to need our assistance.”
“Please, goddess,” Lee implored. “The Earth and all its creatures are in peril. If you truly care for us, restoring balance is critical. I need not mention your role in our troubles.”
The goddess looked on the verge of weeping again. “Without mention, without worship… I will once more fade into sleep.”
“Please, goddess,” Lee repeated. He trembled under the goddess’ gaze.
She considered. “We will need to convince Venus and Uranus to return the excess angular momentum, and it will require nearly all our power to do so. We may not reawaken, to be able to assist humanity in the future.”
Lee’s voice was gentle with compassion. “Humans have learned that gods and goddesses arise and eventually fade. We know that we must solve most problems ourselves. But now, we do need your help.” He contemplated the flocks around them. “With the Earth restored, these fine creatures—” he gestured at the birds “—will bring restoration to many human spirits. I will see that their beauty is appreciated. Through them, your compassion will be remembered.”
The goddess gazed around the mountaintop, taking in the cooing doves and murmuring trees with satisfaction. At the thought of a return to oblivion, she shivered and the sky darkened with her angst. To be unable to appreciate beauty, and have her own beauty and power unappreciated by humanity? Would they even appreciate her sacrifice?
She sighed and the sky lightened. “Very well,” the goddess said. “I will restore the balance. Please care for my messenger and its kin. They will carry your stories here. Even if I am no longer able to aid humanity and the Earth’s creatures, perhaps I will dream of your world. That will suffice.”
A choir of Columbidae trilled their approval.
• • •
The goddess kept her promise. After a few megaseconds, Earth was back in its proper orbit, spinning at its proper rate. Ecosystems and economies eventually recovered, with even a few changes for the better. Lee and many other ornithophiles championed the wonder of birds: every year a few more humans smiled at the throaty coo of a dove or the iridescent feathers of a pigeon. The Earth circled and turned. Beauty endured.
About the author and the piece (click to expand)
Pauline Barmby tells us that this charming piece was rejected 25 times before she sent it our way. She is a Canadian astrophysicist who believes that you can’t have too many favorite galaxies and hopes to someday visit her namesake main belt asteroid, minor planet 281067. Her fiction has appeared in Utopia Science Fiction, Analog, and the Year’s Best Canadian Fantasy and Science Fiction series. Find out more at www.galacticwords.com.
©2026 by Pauline Barmby. All rights reserved. May not be used for A.I. training.