“Then write them a ticket,” the officer said. “But I’m not cutting a lock while fifty people are watching me do it.”

I didn’t wait for them to finish.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the small brass key, and stepped past the officer.

He didn’t move to stop me.

I inserted the key into the padlock, turned it, and felt the heavy metal clasp click open.

I pulled the lock free and swung the wooden door of the control shed open.

The warm, dry scent of dust and hot copper wire hit my face.

Inside, the cooling fans of our inverters were screaming at high speed.

“Derek, hold the flashlight,” I said.

He stepped in behind me, shining his phone’s light onto the gray metal electrical panels.

The red warning light on our main master controller was flashing in sync with my phone.

“The remote command is in the queue,” I said, my fingers hovering over the interface. “It’s trying to force a shutdown.”

“Flip the transfer switch,” Derek said.

I grabbed the heavy yellow handle of the manual isolator.