The Power Grid

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, people were smiling, and the scents wafting among the breezes held promises of baked goods and barbecue. Outside of Wall Street, there was no hint of the Apocalypse.

I can't really explain why my workday went by so quickly; there weren't any noteworthy projects to work on. Yet it seemed that I kept busy, and was at the end of the workday before I realized it. Still feeling peppy, I went over to the corporate gym and did a short workout on the elliptical trainer and stationary bike. By the time I finally left the company property, it was completely dark.

I mean completely dark. The moon was in the sky, but it was only illuminated along the merest sliver of its outline, producing no more light than any other nighttime celestial object. I drove home with caution, straining my eyeballs to discern whether any of the local deer were lurking in the roadside shadows, ready to bound into my lane as part of some misguided and suicidal practical joke. (Note for PETA members: Yes, I agree with you that deer are indeed beautiful creatures, and that nature deserves our respect and blah blah blah. But face it, folks, when it comes to traffic judgment and navigational intelligence, these critters are a tad dim.)

Happily, all went well with my homeward journey -- until I reached the traffic signal at the bottom of the C-470 exit ramp. The light was out.

That's odd, I thought, but not really a problem. I was able to turn onto the neighborhood street with no difficulties. But the next traffic light was out, too. And the one after that. Hmmm. I looked around at the neighborhood; the grocery stores were lit up as usual, but the houses and apartment buildings were completely dark. It appeared the power was off throughout a large area of our suburb.

Yep, sure enough, the lights were out at my condo as well. No big deal, I thought; after all, when I wake up in the middle of the night without turning on the lights, I can find my way around just fine. There's peanuts on the kitchen counter, bread and soda in the fridge, and blankets on the bed. Barring an unpredicted arctic front moving in overnight, I should be just fine.

But...whoa! When I got into the parking lot, I found that it wasn't even easy to get into my door. Without moonlight, nor the normally-unnoticed sidewalk lamps, this place is DARK!

Going into Longstreet mode, I used my other senses to feel my way down the entryway to find my door, and somehow fumbled the key into the lock.

Most people think that I have so few possessions because of a lifetime of poor financial decisions, unnecessary generosity in divorce settlements, and the humongous requirements of feeding a ravenous teenage boy. But the truth is that I have intentionally kept my home empty in anticipation of just such an emergency -- I knew the day would come when I'd have to find my way across the room without illumination, and deliberately wanted a clear pathway from the door to the spot where I keep my flashlight. My interior design austerity finally paid off!

My flashlight is one of those windup jobs, so I never have to worry about the batteries running low. If it goes dim, I can just turn the crank a few thousand times, and presto, another 10 minutes of light! But as it happened on this night, the thing was fully charged, and I could do everything I needed to do without having to recharge it. All I needed to do was get something to eat, perform my normal nighttime hygiene-related rituals, and go to bed.

Not knowing whether this outage was one of those "transformer reset" types (where power would be restored in minutes) or a more serious "Godzilla has stomped the power station to rubble" type, I was reluctant to open the fridge for my dinner. Fortunately, I had a banana and some peanuts available, so I was able to obtain my nutrition without letting any additional heat sneak in amongst my perishables. As I prepared myself for an early bedtime, I began to run through what I'd do if I woke up in the morning to find that Rush Limbaugh was right, and the "economic stimulus" bill had indeed caused the collapse of civilization. I suppose I'd have to gather up my steak knives and prepare to do battle with the mohawked mutants who'd surely be roaming the streets by sunup.

Surprisingly, I went right to sleep, and didn't dream of anything remotely apocalyptic. In fact, I'm pretty sure that when I was awoken an hour later by the heater powering up, I was dreaming something about Mr. Rogers singing neighborly songs to a basket of cuddly kittens. Apparently, our good friends at the power company were indeed able to repair the outage, and thus defer the fall of society for at least one additional day. I spent the requisite few minutes recalibrating the clocks, setting a morning alarm, and making sure that nothing else in the condo needed attention. I fell asleep looking forward to the morning, and full of hope for the future.

But I did put matches, candles, and a few dozen cans of Spam on my grocery list. Also a machete. And I think I'll go to the store tomorrow. Just in case.

Anyway, I hope that your evenings remain abundantly illuminated, and that your daylight hours continue to coexist with the hum of electricity coursing through the grid. It's all good. Have a great day!