![]() ![]() There's something odd about the crime scene. To his fellow police officers, it's just one more death-by-hanging in a city that sees a dozen of suicides every week. Today, Hank Palace is working the case of Peter Zell, an insurance man who has comitted suicide. ![]() All of humanity now, every person in the world-we're like a bunch of little kids, in deep, deep trouble, just waiting till our dad gets home. Now it's March, and sometime in September, 2011L47J will slam into our planet and kill half the population immediately, and most of the rest in the miserable decades that follow. By mid-October it revealed itself to be seven kilometers in diameter, and on a crash course with the Earth. When it first appeared, 2011L47J was just a speck, somewhere beyond Jupiter's orbit. Government services are beginning to slip into disarray, crops are left to rot. ![]() Others have gone the other way, roaming the streets, enjoying what pleasures they can before the grand finale. A lot of folks spend their days on bended knee, praying to Jesus or Allah or whoever they think might save them. ![]() Stopped selling real estate stopped working at hospitals stopped slinging hash or driving cabs or trading high-yield securities. Most people have stopped doing whatever it is they did before the asteroid 2011L47J hovered into view. What's the point of solving murders if we're all going to die soon, anyway? Hank Palace, a homicide detective in Concord, New Hampshire, asks this question every day. ![]()
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