It seemed that millions of stars were vanishing from the Milky Way every day and night. The other galaxies seemed to be unaffected, although it was hard to tell; but they were definitely dropping out of ours. Most of them were so far away they could only be caught with a high-powered telescope, or a camera; but hundreds could still be seen disappearing by anybody with a pair of eyes. Not blowing up or fading out; just click—and they were gone.
This article—written by an astronomer and a Phd.—reminded everybody that only the light was stopping. The stars themselves must have been snubbed out hundreds of millions of years ago, and that the light was finally stopping, after travelling all that distance across space. I think it was hundreds of millions, although it might have been thousands.
The article didn't even speculate on the cause of it all.
I went star-gazing that night. Everyone else in the neighborhood was out in their backyards, too. And sure enough, in the gigantic spread of stars I could see little specks of light winking out. They were barely noticeable; if I hadn't been looking for them I would never have seen anything different.
"Hey Jane," I called in the back door. "Come on out and have a look."
My wife came out and stood, hands on hips, looking at the sky. She was frowning, as though she resented the whole business.
"I don't see anything," she said.
"Look carefully," I said. "Watch one section at a time. There was one! Did you see it?"
"No."
"Watch for little winks," I said. But it wasn't until the Thomas kid came from next door and loaned her his telescope that she saw it.