A Different Energy

Today is World Energy Efficiency Day. With the rapid depletion of fossil fuels, observance is more than apt. 

But too much so?

We do it for survival. But when survival rules, we sometimes forget the world. 

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Electicia had become a ration-obsessed city; there were few energy resources to share among its needy populace. Fossil fuels had become almost negligible - electric cars had long escorted gas-tank vehicles to  junkyards. 

Towers blended with the dark sky; the melding prompted unwanted darkness. 

But in one tower, a light shone. Nightly, without fail, at 2:30 a.m. From a window that should be dark. 

Solitary and purposeful.

Intentional.

Driven by a different energy.

Speculation - then dissatisfaction - began.

"How could they -'

"They should be evicted by the authorities -"

"Non -compliance -"

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Electrician Lenny watched the tower each dusk, without fail. He'd make his rounds and return to face the tower. Each night, never ceasing. A pattern too precise to ignore. 

Electric readings from the single room pushed gauges beyond their limits, mercilessly. Suspiciously. Hidden wiring warmed the ground, poking the bases of his already tired feet. 

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The wiring served as apt warning; Lenny knew that the tower was best left alone. But curiosity triumphed over wise judgment. 

He found  himself outside the main door of the tower. He pushed, and the hinges gave way almost too freely - 

Quieter than expected.

An elderly woman sat, her wrinkles caressed by gentle lamp light.

She was engrossed in the text before her, squinting-electricity was a worthless assistant. The generator was an equally flawed helper.

She looked up at Lenny's furrowed eyebrows and offered the gentlest of smiles. 

Lenny returned it with a lopsided grin of his own. The light? Just the lamp reflected on the window's glass.

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Lenny filed an evaluation report with his company - there had been no violation, no overuse of resources. 

As he hauled tired feet back home, he glanced up at the surrounding windows.

Silent buildings, their aura tranquil.

Ink-black.

Just obedient darkness.

A city aware of the little power it held. 

Too aware to see the dawn of a new day.

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Original microfiction by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.

For MIkeydred's March prompt