It was cold and slightly greasy to the touch.

I pulled it down with all my weight.

A loud, metallic *thunk* echoed through the small shed.

For a second, the fans went completely silent.

My heart stopped.

Then, a deep, low hum vibrated through the floorboards.

The indicator light on the master controller turned a solid, calm green.

“Islanding protocol active,” I breathed, looking at the display. “We are officially off the city feed.”

I walked back to the doorway of the shed.

Outside, the neighborhood was still.

I looked down the street, expecting to see darkness.

Instead, the porch lights of the houses were glowing yellow in the twilight.

The television in Miguel’s front window was still casting a blue light against his curtains.

The utility worker checked his tablet, his face tightening.

“They just severed the telemetry,” he told the officer. “We can’t see their system anymore.”

“But the lights are still on,” Miguel said, pointing toward his house. “And we are staying right here.”

The officer looked at his watch, then walked back to his patrol car and climbed inside.