Kent and Edie

Kent and I unplugged them all. Everything. We were done with the craziness. Calm descended in the building and neighborhood; in our beings.

He found the main switch for the streetlights and turned them off. I walked on the sidewalk under the stars to the corner and placed a manual stop sign in the middle of the intersection. No more red, green, or yellow lights. I felt good about keeping people safe with the sign and went home to bed.

In the morning, when I picked up my cell phone, it was dark. Cell service is out, I mumbled aloud, realizing we couldn’t call each other now.

Was it folly, or brilliance? We’d soon find out.

I heard a roaring car engine, the kid on the next block, racing and revving his engine. Then, a screech of tires that seemed to last for a minute, but was only a few seconds. Good, he managed to stop in time.

I walked down the street and found the kid standing beside his car, looking at the tire marks he left.

“What happened to the stoplight?” he asked me, as if I’m the road engineer. He is a kid, and figures adults know these things.

“It obviously isn’t working, so the stop sign is in the middle of the intersection. You veer slightly around it. Since you have a driver’s license – you do, right?” I stared at him until he nodded affirmatively, then continued. “If that is the case, you know what is expected at a four-way stop, yes?” He nodded again. “Good, off you go then. Oh, and Ron, stop speeding in residential areas. The speed limit is 25 mph.” He drove off slowly and then, once around the corner, revved the engine and split out, leaving a burn from his tires.

Power was definitely out at the cereal mill because no Quaker Oats fragrance filled the air. I kind of like the oats smell, though. I smiled and walked further, noticing Mrs. Hendrick’s dryer wasn’t running and spitting out perfumed fabric softener odors.

Kent stood at the next corner, and we walked toward the railroad tracks. “Oh, shit, Kent, the train!” I shook his shoulder.

“It’s fine. The trains are switched to on, and so are the gate arms.” We heard one rumbling in the distance, and as it approached, the gates came down with flashing lights and their warning dings. I sucked in a large breath and willed my heart to slow down. We kept walking, past the Connor mini-farm, and on to the immense concrete plaza that used to be cornfields. Some corn and strawberries were still trying to grow near the edges of the concrete.

“Monsters.” I looked at the ugliness of it.

“I have a plan.” He squeezed my hand.

Kent’s plan evolved slowly, over a few years, spreading from our town out to the others and ending at the metropolis that housed the headquarters. The shut-offs couldn't be traced, and the government kept searching for the source.

Kent was smarter than the government IT people. They grew frustrated trying to locate the source of this horrible turning back of progress.

Skyscrapers were no longer collision beacons for birds or planes. Cars maneuvered the streets cooperatively, and collision stats dropped. Cell phone experts became baristas, learning to craft coffee from gas burners and battery frothers. Telehealth experts became home health care advisors, making house calls on bicycles.

Empty warehouses were retrofitted for housing centers that had mini-gyms and meeting rooms, coffee shops and bakeries, all in one huge concrete building that had sat empty for years. Semi-trucks were loaded onto freight trains with their cargo, then drove off the train at their destination and went to their delivery point.

Less traffic on the road and the use of the rails created efficiency and safety.

I am the only one who knows who created this safer country and the darkened cities under visible starlight. People once again wrote about the night sky and all the songs of songbirds. Kids got to see raccoons, beavers, eagles, deer, rabbits, and coyotes in a natural habitat. Stars lit the night, and people played pickleball on the courts by flashlight or candlelight.

Data centers were dark at night and couldn’t operate twenty-four hours per day. People relied on each, as they did in earlier decades of the century.

Even the brainiacs working for Zuck and Musk couldn’t find Kent.

Walking on the river walk one afternoon, I was accosted by men in a large SUV. They grabbed me and took me to a skyscraper in the city. The upper floors couldn’t be reached by the dead elevators, so they carried me, bound, to the 6th floor. I shut my eyes and mouth and would not speak. They thought hunger or thirst would work, but it didn’t. “Where is Kent?” I didn’t respond; not even a flinch or eye movement, while I wondered how they knew his name. It seems they are getting close to discovering my best friend is the culprit of the new world order. I would not help them.

After ten days of no water or food, a tall woman entered my room. I ignored her and continued looking out the window. Birds flew by, mostly pigeons, but also a few crows. “Can I get you something? Water or soda?” I ignored her. She waved her arm so that I could detect the freshly baked muffin she had brought. I hate muffins, stupid woman. “We’ll find Kent. It would be easier on both of you, if you helped.”

“Look, an eagle,” I replied, pointing. The door opened and shut, so I knew she had left.

I became weaker each day. It was not food or water that I wanted, or needed. It just proved how stupid they were and how superior Kent and I are. It rained every day, and there was no sunshine. When I managed to look out of the window, there weren’t puddles, but somehow ducks floated below.

When I was so weak I couldn’t stand, Kent showed up. The door opened, and there he stood, alone. He lifted me in his arms and walked out of my room-prison. As he carried me, I looked right and left and saw bodies everywhere. “Kent…” He shushed me and covered my eyes with a calloused hand. In the stairwell, he shifted me a bit and began his climb down.

“Shhh, it will be all right. Don’t worry, I’m taking you home. I’m sorry.”

I counted the levels as we descended, and at the 2nd floor, we were confronted. Kent set me down against the wall. “Kent, you will not leave here,” the giant man roared.

Kent jumped at him, and they fought for minutes, sometimes running into my feet. I curled up to be tinier, and even that took a big effort. Kent fell, and I knew he was hurt, but the goldfish swimming in the walls grabbed my attention. How did they get water in there, and how can they feed them? Two mini-sharks swam above the goldfish.

The larger man grabbed us both by our hair and dragged us, bouncing, down the stairs and out to the lobby. He threw me into the plate-glass window, and I lay there in pain while he pummeled Kent. A small turtle crept by as I saw Kent push a button on his watch, then continue defending himself.

“You think that you can control the country with your gifts, Kent? Look at you, all bent and twisted. You’re done, and the lights will all come back on. We traced everything you did in all the places and are now undoing it.

A crash behind me made me roll over to see what was amiss. A metal creature, like the Hulk in the movies, had entered. He picked up the man and crushed him in his hand. Kent pushed a button on his watch, and the metal man stopped in mid-motion, like in freeze-tag. (Kent taught me freeze-tag, but I can’t get the hang of it. When he yells ‘freeze,’ I continue moving. I can only deduce that it is a synapse lapse between hearing him and my reacting.)

Kent carried me and told the metal man to follow. He took a car from the parking garage and drove me home, the metal man running behind. (He was way too large to fit into the Chevy Volt Kent stole; I wonder why he didn't choose a more powerful vehicle, which would have been more exciting.) I felt the street buckling under the metal man's weight. Kent carried me into the house and laid me on the couch. The metal man waited outside, watching for intruders.

“Edie, I made a mistake. I’m sorry. We have to start over.”
“What do you mean, Kent?”

That was the last I ever said to Kent. I was disappointed he didn’t want to rewire me. The trash compactor didn’t hurt because he had pulled out my feelings before he shoved me into it.

“Kent, I told you not to play those video games all day. Look at the havoc you created. The entire house has to be rewired, and all of my appliances have blown. You are going to pay for all the replacements!”

“Ok, Mom. I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better.” She had warned me, but what do parents know? They are so old-fashioned; she can’t even figure out how to download or clear her cache. She needs me to do that. I’d better empty the trash compactor before she sees the bin. Then I’ll sneak the metal man to the garage. Tomorrow I’ll recreate Edie.

             Copyright © 9/18/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin