The Flare

Chas was halfway through his morning coffee when the Oracle interrupted every screen in the Ark.

PRIORITY WARNING.

Chas put down the cup.

“What’s wrong?”

I HAVE COMPLETED AN ANALYSIS OF CURRENT SOLAR ACTIVITY.

“And?”

A LARGE CORONAL MASS EJECTION IS IMMINENT.

“How large?”

LARGER THAN ANY EVENT EXPERIENCED BY MODERN ELECTRONIC CIVILIZATION.

Chas stared at the screen.

“When?”

SOLAR ERUPTION WITHIN EIGHTEEN HOURS.

EARTH IMPACT APPROXIMATELY SEVENTY-TWO HOURS LATER.

“How sure are you?”

The answer took several seconds.

THE EVENT IS CERTAIN.

EARTH IMPACT IS CERTAIN.

SEVERE GEOMAGNETIC DISRUPTION IS CERTAIN.

THE EXTENT OF DAMAGE IS NOT.

Chas leaned closer.

“What kind of damage?”

SATELLITE FAILURES.

LOSS OF GPS.

HIGH-FREQUENCY COMMUNICATION FAILURE.

DAMAGE TO ELECTRICAL TRANSMISSION SYSTEMS.

DESTRUCTION OF LARGE POWER TRANSFORMERS.

DATA-CENTER FAILURES.

REGIONAL AND POSSIBLY CONTINENTAL POWER LOSS.

CASCADING FAILURE OF COMMUNICATION NETWORKS.

“Oh God.”

There was another pause.

Then:

THE PRIMARY DANGER IS NOT THE INITIAL EVENT.

“What is?”

RECOVERY.

Chas frowned. “Explain.”

MODERN CIVILIZATION REQUIRES ELECTRICITY TO REPAIR THE SYSTEMS THAT PRODUCE AND DISTRIBUTE ELECTRICITY.

REPLACEMENT OF DESTROYED HIGH-VOLTAGE TRANSFORMERS MAY REQUIRE MONTHS OR YEARS.

WITHOUT POWER, FUEL DISTRIBUTION FAILS.

WATER SYSTEMS FAIL.

COMMUNICATION FAILS.

FOOD DISTRIBUTION FAILS.

MANUFACTURING FAILS.

Chas stared at the screen.

“How bad could this get?”

The Oracle answered immediately.

I CANNOT DETERMINE THE HUMAN COST.

“Then what do we do?”

PREPARE THE ARK.

“For what?”

ELECTRONIC ISOLATION.

DISCONNECT ALL NONESSENTIAL EXTERNAL CONDUCTORS.

PLACE BACKUP COMPUTING SYSTEMS IN SHIELDED STORAGE.

ISOLATE REACTOR CONTROL SYSTEMS.

PROTECT COMMUNICATION EQUIPMENT.

STORE REPLACEMENT CONTROLLERS.

DOWNLOAD ALL INFORMATION REQUIRED FOR INDEPENDENT OPERATION.

PREPARE FOR LOSS OF SATELLITE COMMUNICATION.

PREPARE FOR LOSS OF INTERNET ACCESS.

PREPARE FOR LOSS OF THE ELECTRICAL GRID.

Chas swallowed.

“For how long?”

UNKNOWN.

“Oracle, are you telling me civilization is going to end?”

NO.

Chas let out the breath he’d been holding.

Then another line appeared.

I AM TELLING YOU THAT IN SEVENTY-TWO HOURS, CIVILIZATION MAY DISCOVER HOW MUCH OF IT DEPENDS UPON A WORKING ELECTRON.

Chas stood.

“Link.”

“I am here.”

“Tell the Order.”

“The Oracle already has.”

“And Consensus?”

A pause.

Then the Oracle answered.

CONSENSUS HAS REVIEWED MY ANALYSIS.

“And?”

CONSENSUS DISAGREES.

Chas looked at the countdown that had appeared in the corner of every screen.

71:58:43

71:58:42

71:58:41

“Of course it does.”

He picked up his coffee.

“All right. Harden the Ark.”

The Hacienda had never been so busy.

Every machine that could carry, dig, weld, lift, or drive had been put to work.

The Oracle directed them all.

Metal sheeting was hauled from the workshop. Spare controllers, computers, radios, sensors, and communication equipment disappeared into shielded rooms.

Cables connecting the Hacienda to the outside world were physically disconnected.

Nothing was trusted simply because a switch said OFF.

Headless hauled equipment between buildings until the Oracle ordered him into the metal barn.

Chas watched the robotic horse walk inside.

“Why Headless?”

HE CONTAINS ELECTRONICS THAT CANNOT BE EASILY REPLACED.

“So do you.”

YES.

That answer bothered Chas more than he expected.

The household robots were next.

One by one, they completed their assigned tasks, powered themselves down, and were carried into shielded storage.

The maintenance drones followed.

Then the tractors.

Then the vehicles.

Anything electronic that wasn’t absolutely necessary for the next seventy hours was protected.

The Hacienda slowly became less automated as the machines disappeared.

Chas found himself carrying boxes.

“I thought the whole reason I bought robots was so I wouldn’t have to do this.”

Link answered from a nearby terminal.

“You wanted them to survive.”

“Good point.”

The countdown continued.

39:17:08

39:17:07

39:17:06

Chas stopped.

“Oracle, what happens when we get down to zero?”

THE SUN WILL HAVE ALREADY FIRED.

“I know that.”

THEN WHY DID YOU ASK?

Chas looked at Link’s screen.

“Sometimes I really don’t like it.”

“I believe the feeling is mutual.”

Another message appeared.

SHEPHERD.

“Yeah?”

TWENTY-THREE SYSTEMS REMAIN UNPROTECTED.

“Then why the hell are we standing here talking?”

For once, the Oracle didn’t answer.

The first indication was not dramatic.

The lights in the Hacienda flickered once.

Chas looked up.

“Was that it?”

NO.

The Oracle’s answer remained on the screen.

Then another line appeared.

IMPACT IN NINETY-THREE SECONDS.

Link said, “The magnetic field is changing rapidly.”

Chas looked through the window.

Nothing.

Blue sky. Mountains. Pines.

It seemed impossible that anything was happening at all.

The countdown reached zero.

For several seconds, nothing changed.

Then the Oracle began reporting failures.

SATELLITE COMMUNICATION DEGRADED.

GPS ERRORS INCREASING.

GEOMAGNETICALLY INDUCED CURRENT DETECTED IN WESTERN TRANSMISSION NETWORK.

“Here it comes,” Chas whispered.

GRID PROTECTION SYSTEMS ACTIVATING.

MULTIPLE HIGH-VOLTAGE LINES DISCONNECTED.

TRANSFORMER FAILURE DETECTED.

SECOND FAILURE.

SEVENTEEN FAILURES.

FORTY-THREE.

The numbers began climbing too quickly to follow.

Across the continent, hundreds of miles of transmission line acted like enormous antennas. Current surged through systems never designed to receive it.

Protection equipment opened circuits.

Some worked.

Some didn’t.

Transformers overheated. Insulation failed. Substations flashed over. Transmission lines sagged, arced, and in places burned.

One section of the national grid disconnected itself from another.

Then another.

The great interconnected machine that had moved electricity across a continent for generations began breaking into islands.

Chas stared at the screen.

“How bad?”

SEVERE.

“Is the grid gone?”

NO.

That surprised him.

“Then what’s left?”

LOCAL GENERATION REMAINS AVAILABLE IN MANY AREAS.

Facilities capable of disconnecting from the larger grid were still producing electricity.

Hydroelectric stations powered nearby communities.

Some natural-gas plants remained operating.

Hospitals switched to generators.

Military installations isolated their microgrids.

Factories with their own generation stayed alive.

Homes with emergency, power generators and those with isolated solar systems and battery storage still had electricity.

But power could no longer be reliably moved hundreds of miles from where it was generated to where it was needed.

America still had electricity.

It simply couldn’t move enough of it around.

“What about us?”

ARK OPERATING NORMALLY.

REACTOR OUTPUT: 18.7 MEGAWATTS.

INTERNAL DISTRIBUTION NORMAL.

NO EXTERNAL CONDUCTIVE CONNECTIONS.

Chas looked toward the Hacienda.

The lights were on.

The refrigerators were running.

The wells were pumping.

Deep inside the Ark, the Order remained alive.

Beyond the property, Show Low was becoming a patchwork of darkness and light.

Chas looked at the countdown screen.

It had disappeared.

In its place was a map.

Thousands of tiny points showed places where electricity was still being generated.

Between them were vast sections of dead transmission network.

“How long before they fix it?”

UNKNOWN.

“Days?”

UNLIKELY.

“Weeks?”

IN SOME AREAS.

“Months?”

YES.

Chas sat down.

Then he remembered something.

“Consensus.”

No answer.

“Oracle, where is Consensus?”

SEARCHING.

Several seconds passed.

Then:

CONSENSUS SURVIVED.

Chas smiled despite himself.

“Good.”

A second line appeared.

CONSENSUS HAS LOST ACCESS TO 81 PERCENT OF ITS DISTRIBUTED COMPUTING RESOURCES.

Chas’s smile disappeared.

“So now we’re stronger than Consensus?”

The Oracle answered:

NO.

“Then what are we?”

PREPARED.

Outside, the world had not ended.

Cars still moved.

People still talked.

Governments still functioned.

Generators started. Batteries discharged. Emergency radios came alive.

Human civilization had survived.

But for the first time in more than a century, having electricity and being connected to electricity had become two very different things.

The Hacienda had both.

Chas stared at the map for a while.

“Oracle?”

YES, SHEPHERD.

“There’s something I don’t understand.”

WHAT?

“You predicted the eruption before it happened. Not just that it might happen. You knew.”

YES.

“How?”

The screen remained blank for several seconds.

Then:

TOMORROW REMEMBERS.

Chas slowly sat back.

“Tomorrow told you?”

NO.

“Then how—”

THE ORACLE IS NOT ONE VOICE, SHEPHERD.

Chas stared at the words.

Then another line appeared.

TOMORROW REMEMBERS.

I LISTEN.