While the woman was emptying the fridge out and choosing what they would take, her husband went and woke their son up:
“Get up Jimmy; we’re off to a picnic!”
“Uh? Mustn’t I go to school?” he asked sleepily.
“You won’t go to school anymore. It is gone with all professors and pupils, books and notebooks…”
“Great! Can I ask John to come with us?”
“Er… I’m afraid he is gone too. You, your mother and I are the only humans left.”
“But… How…?”
“Don’t you mind. Get dressed and let’s go!”

They left their home. The woman wanted to lock up the door, but the man told her there was no one left to rob them of their possessions. They walked across the meadow that had been their hometown. It was about noon when they found the stream they had heard when they had awoken. They stopped, took off their shoes and plunged their feet into cold water with delight. They unpacked their lunch and ate without a word. They had said nothing since they had left: they were too busy listening to the birds’ song and the whisper of the wind in the trees. After lunch, they decided to do something they hadn’t done for years: they had a nap. Jim, who found this boring, was allowed to go for a swim. His parents joined him an hour later. At four o’clock, they sat on a rock to dry themselves, and had tea. They did nothing else until twilight. Then the woman began to worry:
“Where are we going to sleep?”
“Well, in a tree or on the ground” said her husband.
“Don’t you think we could go back to the flat, just for tonight?”
He sighed and agreed. So they made their way back to their building. But when they arrived, the entrance door had disappeared behind brambles. They had no choice. They created a little nest in the grass and squeezed together to be warm.

On the following morning, they found a grocery store: at least they wouldn’t be hungry. They spent the week just like the first day.
However, after a week, Jim began to get bored: he missed his friends. The father suggested they left their ancient town and began a nomadic life. Both his wife and son agreed: it would keep them busy. They packed the last supplies from the grocery and the man managed to find a fishing rod: “We may need it later.”
They walked for several days. They re-learnt the gestures their ancestors had made 3 million years before: they picked fruits and vegetables, fished, and sometimes managed to catch little animals like rats or mice, they lit fires by rubbing stones together… After 3 months, they had become perfect prehistoric men.
They had reached the place that used to be Central America and spent the winter in Mexico.

One year had passed, and a second one, but they had stopped counting days. One night they were chatting near the fire, the man said:
“It is so comfortable, so quiet… So, Tim, do you still miss your friend… what was his name again?”
“Dad, are you all right?”
“Yes, of course I am. Why?”
“My name is Jim, not Tim, remember?”
“Did I say Tim? I’m sorry, I must be tired. Mind you, not as tired as when I came back home after a telling off from Mr… Mr… Er, my boss!”
They thought something was happening. They tried to remember the name of their bosses, teachers or friends. Then they realised they had forgotten them. The woman moaned when she understood she was trying to recall her husband’s first name. But was she married? Jim, who was dozing, awoke with a start, looked around him and asked:
“Who are you?”
“We are your parents, of course. Look, it is mummy! And here is your fa…”
But she stopped dead:
“Have we got a son? I’m not even sure you are my husband…”
The man gazed at her with expressionless eyes.

There were two strangers staring at him. A puzzled woman and a scared-looking boy. He didn’t want to disturb them. He got up and walked away. Where was he? Where had people gone? He remembered something: had he not wished mankind to disappear? What if human thinking had disappeared along with it? But then he was going to become less than an animal! “How does it feel to be a gorilla?” he thought, amused. Or, maybe, after his way of life, his brain was becoming the one of a prehistoric man.
Perhaps he could save some of his memories. He repeated to himself his name, his birth date, his address, his job, his friends, the music he liked… What were the Beattles’ names, again? He had forgotten them.
He was thinking hard: he had wished vacation, rest. Perhaps his mind had gone on holiday, on its own… No, that was impossible. Yet it was happening. But then… perhaps… real holiday was not going to the sea or the countryside and do nothing all day long. Perhaps real holiday was merely holiday for the mind… It was more and more difficult to put words on his thoughts… Yet he felt happy, refreshed; fulfilled, that was the word. He had found eternal rest.
“I had a great life” he said aloud.
It was his last thought.