Twelve weeks and the spark of hope after the fall.

  It didn’t take long to get the survivors excited about having power again. The idea of running lights, making food, and keeping warm without conserving energy was thrilling, if not intoxicating. In fact, the desire to bring normalcy back to our lives was so alluring, we had more volunteers than could be useful in the depths of the New York underground. While it was nice to know that so many would plunge into hell for their fellow man, it was best if we only took people that possessed at least a passing familiarity with the underground.

  Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being underground? Yeah, spend several hundred years in a tomb with Julius and tell me how much you enjoy it. Spoiler alert, you don’t. Ever. I mean, there are only so many times you can make a skull talk to you before feeling like you’re going insane.

  “God dammit!” The lineman cursed, kicking a piece of broken rock with a steel-toed boot. “Another collapsed tunnel. The attack did more damage to the tunnel system than I thought. Do we want to clear it, or go around?”

  “I’m voting for clearing it out,” I said, pushing a dead rat to the side of the hallway with a stick.

  “Clearing out the rocks might not be the best idea. It might make the tunnel unstable and cause an even bigger collapse,” someone said, giving the pile an untrusting eye.

  “The conduit from our building probably goes through the substation a few blocks over. I know another way to get over there, but without either reading the drawing or doing a physical trace, we’re just throwing darts in the dark. Without something to tell me we’re on the right track, I can’t promise I have the right cable.” The lineman explained, “About twenty meters back up the tunnel, there is a split that will let us get gown to the next block. It’ll take some time, but it’s significantly less dangerous than clearing out this block.”

  I genuinely wanted to know what her solution would be if the next tunnel was also blocked, so I asked her, “Sparky, what happens when that one is blocked, too? At which point do we just give up and go home?”

  “Don’t call me Sparky, my name is Rebecca and you know that,” she scolded. “There is a cut through every block or so. Worst case, we head back up and come down through the manhole access on the other side of this. If any of you think we can continue to live without power, I invite you to go back. Otherwise, keep following me and we’ll get there, eventually.”

  Great, not only did I need to spend more time in the dark tunnels of a city known for its rat population, but I had to do it around people who didn’t know what I really was. If I somehow got injured and my healing triggered, they would probably see me as some sort of divine being. Not that I’m complaining about being divine, but I don’t fancy playing God again. Last time I did, people used it as an excuse to murder each other for a few thousand years. Perhaps I could disguise my ability as science rather than magic?

  “And how do we avoid getting caught by the accountants? Opening a manhole cover is not an effortless task. We don’t have a hook, and I don’t fancy throwing my back out pulling it open with a rope. Not to mention, closing it on top of yourself afterward is damned near suicide.”

  While I thought the questions were perfectly normal and expected in a situation like this, they visibly annoyed the others. They didn’t want to hear all the ways this could go wrong, and who could blame them? But if there was anyone better at being a pessimist than a 115,000-year-old man, it would honor me to shake their hand.

  “Look, asshole, some of us need this. We’ve lost everything, and there was nothing we could do to change that. Until now. Now, we have a chance to restore power to our home and bring back some shred of our old lives. Is it perfect? No, but it’s a chance, and that chance is giving us more hope than anything else right now.” Sparky spat, “If you can’t get on board with actually helping instead of pushing dead rats across the room, then go back to the base and let us figure this out without you.”

  The lineman shouldered past me and walked back down the hallway. I just stood there in stunned silence while the rest of our group followed behind her. The look of absolute disgust on their faces as they walked by forced me to reflect on Sparky’s words.

  Was that what all this was about? Hope? That nebulous concept could raise people from the brink of disaster or bury them in a pit of despair. Many people were never pushed to the breaking point where genuine hope shined. These people, these survivors, had watched their world crumble around them. Despite that, they’d rebuilt a modicum of society and taken back a sliver of what they’d lost.

  I still remember the hope in the eyes of the Jews when we freed them from those awful camps. Many were broken, but some… Some had that spark in their eyes that no one could extinguish. They were the ones who would sing to the children as they fell asleep and speak the ancient prayers of their people despite dried and cracked lips. They prayed to a God that I’d made up in my hubris. But to them, that God was real. And for all I know, their faith in that God brought him into being. Faith had power, didn’t it?

  I didn’t want to be alone again. I’d spent the last thousand years with only myself for company, and it was not something I would recommend to anyone. I made my decision. Was it stupid? Probably. But I was willing to continue giving this life a real effort.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  ~~**~~

  We eventually found the substation, but it took several hours and more than a few sewer-based bathroom breaks to get there. According to Sparky, the previous tech actually did their job and labeled the cable that supported our building. I didn’t understand how rare this was, but apparently it was common enough to be a regular problem in the utility industry.

  After a short while of fiddling with wires and whatever other witchcraft electricians did, she disconnected every building from the substation. A few minutes later, she isolated the cable feeding the survivors' building and reconnected it to the power distribution. Dusting off her hands, she walked up the line and to the main power plant. Luckily, this was a path she’d worked on repeatedly while chasing cables cut by people who refused to have them located.

  If nothing else was guaranteed in the world, it was this: A person could dig at a construction site every day for a week, but the moment the clock struck five on a Friday afternoon a machine operator would magically find and rip a cable out of the ground. This would set off an immediate chain reaction of phone calls that ended in a lineman working to restore power until an ungodly hour in the morning. And that was if the lineman was lucky.

  Before this little exploration into the depths of the city I’d never heard about this character loving named ‘Bob with the Backhoe,’ but by the time we’d gotten to the station with the fusion generator, I hated the man. Although, the pure rage Sparky displayed when describing the carnage caused by a demolition crew with a deadline was magical. I thought I could hold a grudge for a long time. Apparently, I had nothing on the hate a lineman had for a construction crew.

  “Alright. Normally, we have enough battery to operate the containment doors, but we don’t have that luxury.” Sparky said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the large spherical chamber behind her, “They are the only thing blocking our ability to generate power. Daryll, if you can get them open, I can get the system up in no time.”

  “Wait… I get to break something?” A wiry man in the back of the crowd said, the sheer manic glee in his voice telling me everything I needed to know about him.

  “Yes, Daryll, you get to break something.” She grumbled, knowing the man had once been a member of a demolition team..

  “FUCK YEAH!” the man screamed, immediately running back down the tunnel only to return a minute later with a fireman's axe held firmly in his hands as he approached the doors. “This is for you, Daddy. Should’a come back with that gallon of milk.”

  It was surprising to see just how little time it took for them to mangle the portal and leave nothing but a hunk of twisted metal where doors once stood. Apparently, the pent-up rage of abandonment and an axe did wonders for creating openings where they didn’t exist before.

  “Hey there Sparky, I hate to burst your bubble on this one but… Won’t this compromise our ability to generate fusion safely?” I asked, ripping away the last of the scrap metal.

  “No?” She laughed. “I wish it was that simple, but it’s not. Come in and I’ll explain it to you.”

  The chamber was not the array of lasers and starting fuel I expected to find. Instead, a chamber packed with batteries from floor to ceiling greeted us as we walked inside. They were all glowing with a prismatic light I recognized from a memory so long ago. I heard Sparky talking as she explained the system and how she would restore it, but I was already lost in the depths of my memory. There were things I never wanted to remember about that day, and that light brought them all back.

  ~~**~~

  My brother and I were in our cave, and it was snowing outside. Our siblings were out hunting for food, but game had been scarce lately, and we didn’t know if we could survive another night. Pulling the last morsel of our meal from its place above the fire, I handed it to my brother to take his fill. I always did that. I made sure they all had food, even when I was hungry.

  He would have the meat, and I would suck the marrow when he was done. Our brothers had eaten before leaving for the hunt, so we didn’t need to worry about sharing beyond the two of us. Secretly, I hoped the long bouts of starvation had left him with little appetite. If so, I might even get a mouthful of meat.

  I waited patiently while he ate, but the rhythm of the driving snow outside slowly lulled me into slumber. I guess I felt safe in here… I should. Mother always scared away anyone who didn’t belong, and the few that weren’t afraid would quickly learn why they should be.

  I suddenly awoke to the cracking sound of stone on stone and jumped to my feet to find our attacker. Seeing nothing, I turned to check on my brother and eat my meal, but I was frozen in place by what I saw. At the edge of the fire, my brother was smashing the bone against the stone floor of our cave. When the breaks were wide enough, he raised the thin bone to his mouth and worked the marrow free.

  My blood boiled at the sight of my brother's betrayal. We gave that bastard everything; we fed him while we starved. We kept him warm while we shivered in the cold and ice. We even let him sleep through the night instead of needing to wake up and take a watch. Wasn’t that enough? Did he need to take more?

  I quietly picked up the rock I’d been resting my head on just a moment before and crept up behind him. In a fit of rage I would reflect on for much longer than I ever thought possible, I brought the stone down on his head.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Crack!

  His skull split open with the third strike, spraying blood across my face as the life left my brother’s body. In horror, I realized what I’d done. Dropping the gore covered stone, I stumbled toward the cave’s wall. I didn’t want to look, but in the end… The look of shocked betrayal on my brother’s face was one I hoped I could one day forget.

  “You there! Dear god man, do you not know how to bathe?” a voice said from the mouth of the cave.

  “Ugh?”

  “Yes, yes, well, I want you to know that we saw what you did and are very displeased.”

  I didn’t like this one bit, and this man showing up on the worst day of my life was the last thing I needed. I raised my club threateningly, pointed at it, and shouted, “Ugh!”

  “Uh, it’s so annoying when they’re not developed enough to understand me. Luci, take note to have a language package installed on the next model.”

  I squatted down to the floor and grabbed a fist sized rock and flung it at the creature. That move was stupid, and I realize that now. But grief can make you do things you instantly regret.

  The man never broke eye contact as he squatted down and picked up a rock of his own. Holding it up to his eyes, it started glowing with an eerie, prismatic light. When he threw it, it hit me directly in the forehead. The last thing I remember was laughter as I hit the ground and stared into my brother’s shocked face.

  Then, I remembered nothing.