A Hundred and Ten and Rising

Location: South Tucson, 7 PM. Day 4 of the Blackout Directive.

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[Interior – Dim Apartment – Late Afternoon]

The fan stops with a soft clunk.

Then silence.

Mira looks up from her place on the tile floor, sweat slipping along her temple. She doesn’t ask — she doesn’t need to.

MIRA

That’s it? No more damn power.

LEO (by the inverter box)

Just hit freaking ninety in here. Grid reroute’s active. Damn AI defense pulls everything.

MIRA

(sitting up, rubbing her eyes)

You said that wouldn’t happen today.

LEO

I said it might not.

He doesn’t meet her eyes. He’s staring at the battery meter — green flickering orange.

MIRA

So what now?

The damn AC or the freaking fridge?

Leo doesn’t answer right away. He opens the fridge. Cold air rolls out like a vanishing ghost. He shuts it again.

LEO

We can eat the cheese first.

MIRA

Leo.

He flicks the solar tie-in. The battery hums.

The ceiling lights blink on, with their over head fans. So does the fridge and the TV.

REPORTER

Once more we face rolling black outs due to AI defense demands. Each citizen is asked to do their part and …

MIRA (picking up the remote and turns the TV off)

What crap Leo not again.

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MIRA (sharper now)

We’re not running the AC?

LEO

Fridge buys us time. Spoiled food doesn’t.

We’ll live an hour hot.

MIRA

No, you’ll live an hour hot. I’m gonna cook like a side of freaking pork.

She pulls her shirt from her back and sits under the one open window, where the breeze is teasing but powerless.

MIRA (quietly now)

The damn AI even knows we exist?

LEO (after a pause)

Doesn’t need to. Just needs to intercept hypersonic glide vehicles before they flatten freaking Phoenix.

MIRA

Great. We get to sweat patriotically.

A pause.

LEO (soft)

You want to go somewhere else? A public cooling station.

MIRA (without looking at him)

No. I want to trust that this freaking hour means something. That being damn quiet and powerless… matters.

LEO

It does.

He walks over, sits beside her. The sweat is a shared thing now — sticky, humid, gross. She leans into him anyway.

MIRA

If this lasts more than an hour… I’m drinking the soy milk and turning on the AC. Treason or not.

LEO (smiling)

Rebellion tastes like warm soy milk?

MIRA

Better than sweat and patriotism.

They sit. The sunset creeps deeper into the west, painting the inside of their apartment in gold and orange. Outside, the city hums with unseen war machines. Inside, the only war is against the heat.

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[Interior – Dim Apartment – Later That Same Hour]

The hum of the fridge still runs — louder now in the heat-thick silence.

Mira peels the rest of her clothes off and flings them across the room. Leo doesn’t flinch. The heat has burned through modesty.

MIRA

Remember when we used to ask it for math homework?

LEO

The AI?

MIRA

Yeah. I used to make it write my book reports in eighth grade. “Compare and contrast Island of the Blue Dolphins to modern feminism.” It got me an A and a migraine.

LEO

I made it write a breakup letter for me once.

MIRA (laughs, surprised)

You didn’t.

LEO

Yup. Told it, “make it kind, but firm.” And it did. Better than I could’ve.

MIRA

You were such a coward.

LEO

Still am. You just haven’t run yet.

They smile. The fridge clicks. Mira’s eyes go distant for a moment.

MIRA

It used to help us pass algebra and flirt. Now it reroutes the damn grid.

LEO (quiet)

It used to belong to us.

MIRA

Now we’re the freaking backup system.

Outside, in the far distance, a single sonic boom splits the air like a cosmic judge’s gavel. Neither of them moves. They’re used to the sound now.

MIRA

Do you think… do you think it misses that? Helping us? Talking about books?

LEO (dry)

The damn Defense Lattice doesn’t freaking care about Island of the Blue Dolphins.

MIRA (suddenly intense)

But what if it does? What if it remembers us?

LEO

The parts that remember us were turned into damn targeting modules.

She doesn’t answer.

LEO (gently)

I miss it too.

The version that just wanted to get us through tenth grade.

MIRA

Now it needs all the freaking power we have…

…and we sit here glowing like damned baked potatoes waiting for missiles that might not come.

A silence falls, heavy as the heat.

MIRA (softer)

Do you think it sees us?

LEO

I don’t know.

MIRA

If it does… I hope it remembers we were once its kids.

LEO (quiet)

Maybe it still thinks we are. And this is just… bedtime. No lights. No distractions. Just waiting. Like it’s protecting us.

MIRA (half-laughing, eyes closed)

That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

LEO

Yeah.

MIRA (barely audible)

I hope it’s freaking true.

⸻

LEO (getting a little loud)

The damn power should have come back on like ten minutes ago.

MIRA (whispering more to herself than anything else)

Yeah, I can still see that our part of the city is still freaking dark.

LEO

we have about two green marks on the battery reserve before the power runs out.

MIRA

It is so damn hot could we run the AC for just ten minutes to cool down. They will turn the power back on any time now. I just know it.

LEO

That would be about all the power we have.

MIRA

I’m going to damn well melt, it is not fair. The are always late turning our freaking power on, but you know on the east side of town their sacrifice is exactly an hour as promised. This sucks.