The vending machine took her last dollar and gave her a warm soda.

  Melody sighed, cracked the tab, and leaned back against the break room wall. She adjusted her pants for the hundredth time that day, pulling them up and tightening her belt. Being so short had it’s drawbacks, mainly right now the fact that her work-issues black slacks were about a foot too long so she had to pull them up as high as they would go to keep from walking on them. She walked back to the CCTV room and sat in front of the monitors, absentmindedly gazing at them while she rebraided her long blue and lavender pastel hair. There was a faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and dark circles framed her green eyes. The kind of tired circles that sleep alone couldn’t fix.

  The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, mingling with the regular static drone of the security monitors. Half the feeds were frozen, again.

  It was one of those mid-shift lulls where the building felt like an empty shell-too quiet, to still. Outside, the sun was high and blasting, baking the asphalt parking lots and roads into a shimmering blur. Inside, the air conditioners strained and groaned, doing their best to keep the heat at bay.

  She checked her phone, still no signal. The little “no service” icon had been up since noon. For the past couple of weeks, the outages had become somewhat normal-apps crashing, calls dropping mid-sentence, random restarts. Most people were blaming failing satellites or system overload. Some blamed hackers. Melody blamed the record setting heat and infrastructure that wasn’t made to handle it.

  A few coworkers murmured from the hall, their voices tinged with the annoyance of inconvenience. One of them joked, loud enough for everyone to hear “Better hope its just the Wi-Fi going. If the grid goes down too, we are all screwed. How are we going to survive if we can’t watch the game tonight?”

  Melody forced a laugh but didn’t join in the chit-chat. She took a sip of her soda. Lukewarm and flat. Turning her attention back to the monitors, she noticed one of the towers on camera glitch-just a flicker. The screen went black for a second, then returned, fuzzier and a bit distorted. She frowned and tapped the monitor but nothing changed. Just then her radio crackled to life for a moment, letting out a harsh buzz.

  She lifted it “Security post five here. Say again?”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  No reply. Just static.

  --

  Her shift dragged by. She passed the time by double checking door locks, filing some half filled reports, and pretending to herself that she wasn’t watching the clock. When her relief finally arrived, he looked more tired than usual.

  “Rolling blackouts have suddenly started, no notice before it happened. From what I hear they are rerouting energy on the grid to prioritize the west sector.” He said.

  “Isn’t that where the hospital is?” Melody asked. “Mhm” He replied, distractedly trying to load his news feed on his phone. Melody could see the “no signal” symbol from where she stood. She hesitated, then stood to leave “Good luck tonight.” She said, then for some reason she didn’t know, she felt the need to toss a “Stay safe.” Over her shoulder as she left.

  Outside the air felt…wrong.

  It wasn’t any hotter than it had been when she arrived, but the air had a chemical sharpness to it, like scorched wires or melting plastic. She kept glancing around as she made her way down the walkway towards the parking lot, feeling on edge. The street lights flickered. Distant car alarms whined like they were trying to scream a warning. The roads weren’t empty, but they were less crowded than usual for this time. Less traffic, less movement all together.

  She clicked her key fob as she got closer to her car. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing.

  Her phone vibrated once in her pocket. She pulled it out and tapped the screen. It stayed dark. No logo, no lights. No trying to boot up or “battery dead” symbol. Just dead weight.

  She stood there, breathing shallow, trying to keep the panic at bay.

  A sudden flash lit the horizon behind the broadcast towers. Not lightning. Not fire. Just white.

  It spread like a ripple through the skyline, distorting the air. The ground trembled beneath her, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A low thrum rippled through her bones.

  The few people that were around there stopped walking, a couple in the middle of an argument stopped yelling, someone's grocery bag rolled down the hill, oranges bouncing under cars. There was a scream, a young woman holding her toddler was screaming, frozen in place, pointing behind Melody.

  Melody turned to look. One of the towers had begun to fall. Slowly, as if it was sinking into mud. The crashing noise that followed didn’t sound like a normal building collapsing, it sounded muffled, as if they were underwater.

  She took a step back, then another. Her radio buzzed again. “This is not a drill. Please remain-”

  It cut out.

  The street lights went dark.

  Then the sky.

  Then everything.