Free Digital Winter by Mark Hitchcock

were to arrange a dog-and-pony show for you, it would be one that made us look like heroes. All we did was kick in a few protocols.”
    â€œYou know I’m just giving you a bad time, don’t you General?”
    â€œNo, Senator, I don’t.” He leaned back in his chair and looked a year older than he did this morning.
    Jeremy decided to run interference for his immediate superior. “Imagine if things had not resolved themselves so quickly, Senator. I can imagine the computer jockies over at Homeland are rejoicing.”
    â€œDo you exchange information? With DHS, I mean.” In Jeremy’s opinion, this was O’Tool’s first reasonable question.
    Jeremy looked at Holt, who motioned for him to carry on. Holt was brilliant, determined, and a genius at organization. One thing he wasn’t was patient. “Yes, Senator, we do. We even drill together. One thing 9/11 taught this country was that the first victim of an attack is communication. Today, everyone who needs to be connected, is connected.”
    â€œThat’s the way it should be.” O’Tool steepled his fingers. “I look forward to continuing the tour—”
    The phone on Holt’s desk rang, and the general snapped it up. He listened and then nodded as if the caller could see him. “Good.” He set the phone back in the cradle. “Power is back on in our portion of Delaware.”
    The news was good.

    Backup generators had kept the power going in Harris Memorial Hospital, but the lighting remained muted. Roni was well into her third surgery when things brightened.
    â€œThat’s an improvement.” Surgical nurse Loren Grimm looked up from her tray of instruments just long enough to make the comment. “My eyes are killing me.”
    â€œMe too,” Roni said. “I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
    â€œNeed some ibuprofen?”
    â€œI was thinking of morphine.” Roni didn’t move her eyes from the patient with a rib sticking into his lung. “Someone get me an update on pending surgeries. Who have we got in the halls?”
    One of the other nurses stepped to the phone on the OR wall. She hung up a moment later. “It’s official—power is back on.”
    â€œAnd the surgeries?”
    â€œThere are eight more waiting for ORs to open. Admitting says Dr. Hall lost a patient about half an hour ago. He took the next one in line, which was yours. You have one less on your list.”
    â€œRemind me to kiss the man.” Ronni called for another instrument. “So that means—what, three more?”
    â€œYes,” the nurse said.
    â€œAnd here I thought it was going to be a tough day.”
    Loren grumbled. “The day ain’t over yet.”
    â€œNo wonder people call you a ray of sunshine.” Roni stopped long enough to stretch her back and move her head side to side, trying to untie the knots in her neck.
    She allowed herself to relax for a moment. Things were looking up. She might even get to go home tonight.

    Stanley sat in his car, letting time and the world pass by. In some ways he was a prisoner. His office was twenty-five floors above, a long trek in a stairwell lit only by battery-powered emergency lights. His home was across the bay, near but made far by traffic that had turned roads into parking lots. His wife was in La Jolla at UCSD. He had little to do but listen to the car radio.
    Hope surfaced when the news announced that some power had returned to the East Coast. Washington DC now had power, as did parts of Virginia and Delaware. Upstate New York had electricity flowing, as did Albany. Soon the lights of Broadway would be blazing in the Big Apple again.
    He smiled. This would be the talk of friends and family for weeks.

    A few people near Cody Broadway cheered as word spread about the return of power. Most, however, seemed lost in their own pain. Cody couldn’t blame them. All he could think about was