Three weeks passed without a sunset.
That was what Ezra noticed first. The sun still went down, technically. The sky turned orange, then purple, then black. But the lights in Mara's house never flickered. They never dimmed. They burned with a steady, white intensity that didn't match the voltage of the grid. The electricity wasn't coming from the Dominion lines anymore. It was coming from the walls. From the floor. From the air.
Ezra sat at the kitchen table. He held a multimeter. He pressed the probes against the wooden surface. The readout spun. Voltage fluctuating between zero and infinity. The needle bent against the pin.
"It's alive," Ash said.
Ezra lowered the multimeter. He looked at his son. Ash sat on the counter, swinging his legs. He hadn't grown in three weeks. His clothes
