The lights had gone out again.
Ethan Haze sat in the control room of the Washington Energy Research Facility, staring at the blank monitors in front of him. The air smelled faintly of burnt plastic and stale coffee. Somewhere in the building, a generator coughed and died. For a few seconds, everything was silent except for the faint hum of backup batteries trying to stay alive.
He rubbed his forehead, feeling the dull pain behind his eyes. "That's the fifth time today," he muttered.
The technician beside him shrugged helplessly. "Main grid's unstable again, Dr. Haze. Same feedback loop as before. Demand's are higher than what the Eastern network can carry."
"I see" Arian replied
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the blinking red light on the console. The United States' national grid—once the symbol of modern power—was dying one section at a time. States were running rolling blackouts every few hours. People were already calling it The Great Brownout.
He opened the report on his tablet. A few words glared at him in sharp digital letters:
Projected collapse of continental grid: 9 months.
Nine months.
He stood up, pushing his chair back. "Tell maintenance to shut down the secondary loop. We'll lose half the region, but at least the reactors won't blow."
"Yes, sir."
Ethan walked out of the control room, his steps echoing down the corridor. The hallway lights flickered above him, the fluorescent glow cutting in and out like a failing heartbeat.
Outside the glass walls of the building, Washington was dim. Street lamps blinked on and off in patterns that made the city look sick. Traffic lights had gone manual—police stood at intersections, waving cars through.
Ethan stopped by the window and stared at the skyline. The Capitol dome was just a faint silhouette under the cloudy sky. In the distance, a billboard still shone with half its lights out: Energy for a Stronger Future.
He almost laughed.
The future wasn't strong. It was burning out one socket at a time.
---
The meeting room was crowded. Government officials, engineers, and military advisors filled the long table. The air conditioner was dead, so everyone was sweating.
"Let's get this over with," said the Secretary of Energy. "Dr. Haze, you've been predicting collapse for years. What's your proposal this time?"
Ethan placed his tablet on the table and tapped it once. A model appeared on the holographic projector — the Earth surrounded by a glowing mesh of lines.
"This," he said. "A unified global power grid. One network with one control system. where energy is shared, not divided. It's the only way to stabilize long-term consumption."
The room fell quiet. Someone cleared their throat.
"You're talking about merging every nation's energy infrastructure?" one of the generals asked. "That's not realistic."
"It's not just realistic," Ethan said. "It's necessary now. The current system can't support eight billion people running twenty-first-century machines. We need an adaptive, intelligent grid that manages resources without political interference."
The Secretary frowned. "And who controls that grid, Dr. Haze? You?"
Ethan met his eyes. "Yes,someone has to"
The silence stretched. Then a few people started whispering. Words like dictatorship and idealism floated through the air.
Ethan kept his face still. He was used to that reaction. To them, he wasn't a visionary. He was a threat to their order.
He left the meeting twenty minutes later. No one approved his proposal. The Secretary's final words still rang in his ears:
"We'll handle it our way, Doctor. Stick to research."
Outside, it was evening. The city's power grid was running on emergency mode again, half the buildings already dark.
---
That night, Ethan drove home through empty streets. His car's dashboard flickered as the onboard systems switched to low power. Radio static filled the silence.He passed a group of people gathered around a small bonfire near a park. They were cooking something on sticks — people who couldn't afford heating anymore.
He looked at them for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the road.
At home, the power was out again. He lit a candle, poured himself a glass of water from the container, and sat at his desk. His apartment was filled with papers, notes, and holographic models. Equations scrawled aHaze the walls.
He opened a small notebook — the only thing he still wrote on by hand.
If the system is broken, he wrote, then i shall change the system.
His pen paused.
He thought of his sister, Emma. She was in California, still studying climate engineering. She always laughed when he talked about global unification. "You're too serious, Ethan," she'd say. "The world doesn't need another ruler. It needs hope."
He smiled faintly at the memory. Hope. It sounded naïve now.
He turned back to his tablet. On the screen was an unfinished project — Erebus, a predictive model for global energy behavior.
An AI that could simulate human consumption patterns and optimize them better than any government.
He stared at the code for a long time.
If no one wanted to fix the world, maybe he had to.
---
Three days later, the blackout hit the East Coast.
It started in Philadelphia — a cascading failure from an overloaded power plant. Within two hours, the entire region was dark. Hospitals switched to backup generators. Planes were grounded. Millions of people were left without light or heat.
News channels called it The Nightfall Incident.
Ethan was back in the control room, watching it unfold. His hands were steady, but his chest felt tight. He'd seen this coming. No one listened.
"Dr. Haze, we've lost containment at the Delta Station," one of the technicians shouted.
Ethan looked at the screen. Temperatures were rising fast. If the reactor went critical, the explosion would take out a city.
"Cut it off," he ordered. "Shut the mainline completely."
"That'll take out three more states."
"Do it."
The technician hesitated, then pressed the command. The red lights on the map expanded. Half the East Coast went dark.
Ethan closed his eyes. The room was filled with people shouting, phones ringing, alarms screaming. But all he could hear was the faint hum of the remaining circuits.
---
Hours later, he stood outside on the facility's rooftop. The city was silent below him — no cars, no lights, only the stars above.
For a brief moment, the world looked peaceful.
He took out his tablet and opened Erebus again. The interface glowed softly in the darkness. Lines of code scrolled aHaze the screen.
He spoke quietly. "For better world."
The program accepted his command. A new line appeared:
Erebus Initialization — Phase 1.
The AI began learning.
Ethan watched the stars for a long time, thinking about the kind of world he would have to build — and what he might have to destroy to make it real.