Hour 60 without power:
As I awoke this morning from the brief respite provided by the sweaty sleep, it occurred to me just how forsaken we were.
The ritualistic sacrifices of vegetables from our fridge had clearly appeased no power god known to man, our choreographed dances and songs to the same purpose were unheard and unseen,
and charging my iPhone™ from the car was just plain annoying.
We had realized about 20 hours after the power was out that we would have to fend for ourselves for food – and to this end we had begun to drive around 15 miles to the Tysons area for food.
Forsooth, we were a ragged crew.
The locals had, for the most part, abandoned our powerless village for more fluorescent pastures,
and the choice few that remained had sold their family members for generators and the requisite gas to make them run.
And yet we had stayed, clinging to order in a brutish world; and yet we had stayed,
when the hours turned to days and the gluttonous eating of food before expiration had begun; and yet we had stayed, and harbored hope that Prometheus would once again bring us fire.
Perhaps you’re right – we were foolish.
A though that had more than once occurred to us as we looked about or shelter, vestiges of power hauntingly lacking that jolt which gave them their life, their purpose. But we were young.
We were foolish. We were naïve. And while you sit swaddled in cooled air, your electric addiction fueled by your latest hit, think of us powerless ones. Remember us fondly.
Because a world in which I can’t crank up the AC, reach into the cool fridge for a chilled beverage, and watch trashy television is a world I cannot long endure.