The afternoon sun was casting long, sharp shadows across the dry grass.

“He won’t stand up to her, Priya,” I said. “He never has.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But he still cares.”

“Caring isn’t enough when the house is on fire,” I said.

I spent the rest of the evening reviewing the system architecture for our new microgrid.

It was a beautiful design, compact and capable of providing clean power to remote communities without relying on a central utility.

But beautiful designs did not matter if we could not secure our supply lines.

By nine o’clock, the office was dark except for the lamp on my desk.

My email inbox was quiet, but I knew the silence was temporary.

The next morning, the heat in the Central Valley was already rising by seven.

I drove out to the test site, a flat expanse of dirt and gravel surrounded by orchards.

The air smelled of dust and agricultural exhaust.

I parked my car near the temporary trailer and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

In the distance, a group of workers in high-visibility vests were unloading solar panels from a flatbed truck.