The Power Surge
That night, the air in the cabin was thick with the warmth of a shared fire, the smell of food still hanging in the air. For a brief moment, it felt like normalcy was creeping back in. But then, without warning, the lights flickered violently before plunging the room into darkness. A loud crackle split the silence, and suddenly, the faint hum of Henry’s old tablet surged to life.
A blinding glow filled the cabin, casting sharp shadows against the walls. Everyone froze, staring at the screen. It was Elon Musk—disheveled, wide-eyed, his voice trembling as he spoke.
“The ships… they’re not working. They lied to us. We thought we could escape, but there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere…” His eyes darted around, his hands shaking as he tried to stay composed. “It’s over. We’re all trapped. The end isn’t in the stars... it’s here... on Earth.”
Before anyone could speak, the screen flickered and went black. Static filled the void, and a garbled clip flashed across the screen. A distorted, eerie version of a Jimmy Kimmel Live segment appeared. The Tiny Tim Walz action figure danced on the screen, holding a football in one hand and a gun in the other, as Kimmel’s voice, warped and mechanical, offered a laugh.
Then, the news cut in—without sound, just images and words flashing at the bottom of the screen.
Trump Threatens Tariffs – "25% on all Canadian imports unless... security..."
Trudeau Responds – "Canada will do what’s necessary to protect..."
Medicare Cuts – "Access to healthcare in jeopardy. The system fails those who need it most."
Plane Crash – "67 dead in midair collision. D.C. disaster marks darkest day in aviation history."
The screen flickered again, then cut to a woman signing silently in the corner, interpreting the disaster unfolding without a word. A silent scream echoed in the air.
Jas’s heart raced as they watched the chaos unravel on the screen, too overwhelmed to speak.
“This... this is the world we left behind,” Clara whispered, her voice barely audible. “The world that gave us no choice. We weren’t allowed to change it before it destroyed itself.”
Jas stared at the images, feeling the weight of each word, each image pressing down. The world had seemed so far removed when they were only looking at survival. But now, as the lights flickered and the screen displayed the decay of society—war, politics, the crash of economies—it felt as though everything had been woven together in a tangled knot of human folly.
“We didn’t make it this way,” Clara continued, her voice firmer now. “We were born into it. We were the last generation to have a choice. But they took it from us. This—everything you’re seeing—it was always going to happen. The warning signs were there.”
Jas turned to Clara, a mix of confusion and dawning clarity in their eyes. “Then... if we didn’t make it, can we fix it?”
Clara looked out the cabin window, where the stars above twinkled softly, almost peacefully. For a moment, she said nothing, then softly added, “We didn’t have the power before... but now we do. We’re the ones who will rebuild. We’re the ones who will choose a different path.”
The fire crackled, casting long shadows on their faces. They weren’t trapped in a world that had already fallen—they were part of the generation that would rise from the ashes. Hope wasn’t in the past or the failures of their predecessors. It was here, in them.
And in that moment, Jas knew. The world had broken. But they hadn’t. They would make something new. They had to.