Collapse

This was the short story I sent to the New Scientist competition a couple of months ago though it wasn't initially the story that I had planned to send.
(that one I'll post tomorrow or something)
I sent my short stories around to some friends and asked for feedback. Since everybody more or less mentioned this one was one of their favourites, I decided to send it instead.
To me Legacy had more promise to it but this one was perhaps more straight forward and an easier read.

So, just sit back and imagined two mates talking in a bar at the onset of the twenty second century...

COLLAPSE
(349 word count)
“Remember? Remember what? There’s nothing to remember...” The burly man called Pyke took another swig.
The scrawny man called Gadziel looked in disbelief, barely aware he was holding a beer too.
“Now who’s sounding crazy? The Great Collapse man… The Great Collapse! More than fifty years ago. World population decreasing to one third! And no one saw it coming!”
Pyke stared at his beer.
“So?”
“So?! What do you mean so?!” Gadziel spilled some beer. “It was unseen!”
Pyke shrugged.
“Not so. May I remind you that life on this planet started a good half a dozen times – that we know about - before it actually stayed for good.” He stared calmly at his mate. “So far…”
Gadziel slammed the mug on the wooden balcony. “But that’s different! You’re talking about primitive life forms barely able to reproduce! I’m talking about us!”
“I know that.” Said Pyke before taking another swig.
“So??”
“So what? I think we give ourselves too much credit.” He placed his mug down and darted his eyes around the bar. “That’s what got us into trouble last time.”
Gadziel gulped, then tried to catch his breath.
“But… but this was an event bigger than the rest of human history combined!!”
“Sure. But only in a couple of orders of magnitude.”
“What?!” Gadziel stared intensely into the other man’s expression.
“You’re just worried about the scale. About the numbers. Who cares how many billions died? They’re dead aren’t they? We should stop mopping about and just move on.” The beefy man signalled to the bartender. Then he turned conspiratorially. “You, my friend, need another beer. Help you get things into perspective…”
“But the Great Collapse was-“
“Precisely.” He said. “That’s the correct operative. The Great Collapse was. Period. Don’t be so fixated on the past. It’s not healthy. Besides, we’ve got better things to do.” He nodded in approval to the new round of beers. “We’re better than that. We should just move on. Get over it.” He leaned over one of the beers. “It’s not like it was the end of the world or anything.”
END