Blackout Blues

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July’s heat wave accelerated every molecule. The protons, neutrons, and electrons circling the nucleus lustily took to their orbits. The protons, neutrons, and electrons circling the nucleus lustily took to their orbits, combining into new, larger molecules or ricocheting according to the universe’s select combinations of elements. Combining into new, larger molecules or ricocheting according to the universe’s select combinations of elements. Liquids and liquid-based objects - like people - were at the mercy of their mercurial oscillations. The warm blooded took respite in air-conditioning. Bare feet scorched on blacktop. Sweaty, bare thighs stuck to vinyl seats. Gasoline mirages. Then, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, a technician in a Maine power station spilled a coke on his control panel and killed the power to eleven states and Ontario.

                  Downtown Detroit sizzled as rush hour traffic ground to a halt, the city became impossible to navigate with four wheels. Not that anyone tried. This was the Motor City. Walking was for kids and the indigent. Oliver, a street hustler in his twenties with the experiences of a lifetime, played lookout. Meanwhile Benny crowbarred his way into a Ford Explorer. They found twenty-five bucks, an iphone, and a flask of whisky before the sound of the alarm attracted attention.

When the outage hit, people began stepping out of their cars to see what was happening. Benny and Oliver felt exposed. Beads of sweat cramped Benny’s forehead, anxiety clutched his desperate heart. Oliver’s bowels bubbled presciently. Benny used the flashlight on his phone to illuminate their predicament. Just more darkness. No streetlights. No traffic lights. No ambient glow from the skyscrapers. Just other mini flashlights searching for answers.

                  Oliver pointed toward a BMW with its door open and a laptop visible on the passenger’s seat. The two-man crew cleared out the valuables in ten seconds flat. Then they stood back and watched. No one screamed at them to get away from the car. Other drivers didn’t notice or care.  Everyone was locked in their own little world yet bound together by their powerlessness.  Some jacked up their radios and made the best of a potentially cataclysmic situation. Oliver smelled weed.

Benny and Oliver quickly realized that, if they acted fast, the blackout could be a windfall. No electricity meant no cameras or locked cash registers. Nothing a crowbar couldn’t solve anyway. They walked into an unguarded Subway. Benny effortlessly moved the cashier out of the way while Oliver removed north of two grand from the register. They exited scot-free with a scheme that would successfully play out for as long as the power remained off.

They hit the retail shops surrounding Campus Martius. Salespeople and stock folk readily handed over their tills. No one came to work to die today. Their bosses could suck up the loss. Soon, they were weighed down with loot and doubled back to their van to make a deposit. The van was barricaded in on both ends by traffic. They covertly lightened their load, then decided to see what other goodies the night might yield.

                  Next, they switched to nearby houses, heading east into a well-heeled neighborhood. Benny knew where rich people liked to hide their valuables. They entered a minor manse from the ground-level rectangular window. Oliver literally fell into the house and on top of dozens of false-lidded coffee cans. Each contained twenty-five grand. Cash. Give or take. The owners must be mobbed up or have a beef against banks.

                  The next house had a generator. The first floor was lit but empty. Loud heavy metal music blared. Benny tip-toed upstairs to investigate. To his horror, he spied two nekkid octogenarians making the most of their little blue pill. They rocked slowly on top of the covers. He was mesmerized by the constellations of liver spots covering them both until Oliver dragged him away. Both wanted to wash their eyeballs. One block down, they spied a young couple making bold love in their front room surrounded by hundreds of candles illuminating their act.  The couple was a palate cleanser after their last accidental encounter.

                  Dawn broke over another mercilessly hot day. There was still no power. The people trapped in the eternal traffic jam had hunkered down in their vehicles for the night. Benny and Oliver, weighed down with backpacks of jewelry and rugs stuffed full of treasure, made their way back to the getaway van. This was a record haul. They were both exhausted. No matter. They had a future now. The world was wide open to them. Possibilities galore.

                  Benny peeked around the corner of the building to check their van and groaned. Seconds later they were swarmed and found themselves face down on the cement with cops searching every pocket and orifice. They were robbed of their newfound wealth.

                  Benny and Oliver were found guilty of innumerable counts of armed robbery, judged guilty, and ordered to serve their time concurrently. A nine-by-twelve cell. Two beds, a sink, and a toilet for making wine. They made new friends. One was a professional safecracker, who gave lessons. Another taught lock picking. When the other prisoners discovered Oliver couldn’t read, they wrangled him into a literacy program. Within years he was sharing his gift by teaching others. Unlike their lives on the street, Benny and Oliver ate three meals daily, played basketball or video games in the afternoon, and watched movies from a list of approved films at night. The library was stocked with the classics; the gym was well equipped too. There was a list of approved activities, if the inmates ran out of ideas. Good behavior brought promises of more privilege, even social outings into the world. In many ways, Benny said to Oliver over dinner, prison beat the hell out of real life.

                  “All we need here is women,” Oliver lamented, otherwise enjoying his steak and garlic mashed potatoes.

                 

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