Blackout: Part 1.

Jack lay in his bed awake, sitting on his laptop, while outside rain fell hard on the tin fence just outside his window. The glaring white light of his screen illuminated his face, and the room was black around him. His eyes stung, back ached, and he wanted to sleep. But he couldn't.

The life of an insomniac is an odd one to watch. They never sleep, but they're never truly awake. It's almost as if they are stuck in the limbo of dreams and reality. Jack was in such a state, as his confused eyes stared blankly at the screen.

"What am I doing?" he said.

And again he sat, silently waiting for the darkness to answer him, as though someone were listening.

"I should be asleep," he said. "Why can't I sleep?"

This was becoming a routine for Jack. He would stare at his screen with confusion, unable to comprehend exactly why he was on his laptop in the first place. An empty document was up on his screen, the typing line flashing on and off, ready for words to be written. But the only words that came were from Jack's mouth, not his fingers. Every night he asked himself these questions, and every night he waited for an answer that never came.

It wasn't until the rays of the morning sunshine slipped through the curtains, that Jack realised he'd been awake for yet another night. His heavy eyes drooped and blinked slowly. They were open, but did not see, just blankly watched the world go past as though it were a distraction, like a TV show in the background while reading a book.

Jack got out of bed, threw on a shirt, and walked out of his bedroom to the kitchen.

"Morning," said Ellen, Jack's roommate.

"Ergh," he grunted.

"No sleep?"

"No sleep."

"You should see a doctor."

"I'll be fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'll be fine."

"Would you like some breakfast?" Ellen asked. "I'm making pancakes."

"Sure."

Ellen looked at Jack as he sat on the kitchen bench, staring out the window. His tanned skin glowed softly in the dawn sunlight.

"How many do you want?"

"I don't know."

Jack reached for the radio, and switched it on.

"... unusual seismic activity in the countries north has been recorded, and has meteorologists and seismologists baffled. Some religious groups have called it: 'a sign from God that the rapture is near,' and now more than one doomsday theory is beginning to pop up. But right now, that's all speculation. We'll keep you updated, as soon as we hear more." 

"Crackpots," said Jack. "Every bloody decade the world's supposed to end. Why can't people be content with the fact we aren't going to be wiped out in the near future."

"I don't know Jack, is this what keeps you up at night?" she said. He stayed silent, staring angrily at the radio.  "Pancakes are ready."

The sun was nearing it's highest point when Jack walked out the door, it's bright rays blinding him in a sea of white. As per usual, the weather was warm, the sky was clear, and the wind provided the soft kiss of summer.

Ellen followed him out, slamming the door shut.

"Is it closed?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"Go to work. You're already late."

Jack slid into his car, started the engine, and pulled out of the driveway, waving to Ellen as he left. She didn't wave back.

Traffic was abnormally heavy for a Thursday morning, and Jack knew now he was certain to be late. One thing he loved about stop start traffic though, was watching people in their cars; either singing along with the radio, talking to themselves, or fixing their look in the mirror. The car became a personal space, and people acted as though no one could see them. Jack loved being a fly on the wall.

"... more and more people are coming up with theories..." a soft little voice said from the radio.

Jack pulled himself from his people watching, and turned his attention to the radio, turning the volume up.

"... some people have gone as far to suggest that the Earth's core has become unstable. Professor Collins joins us in the studio today. Professor, what do you suggest is happening?'

'Well Angela, I believe that we could be facing a slight catastrophe in the next coming weeks, or so my studies suggest -"

"More doomsday bullshit," said Jack.

"... We hate to give off a 'doomsday' vibe, but this is the conclusion all our studies and research has come to. We're expecting a possible EMP blast, or an electro-magnetic pulse to be expounded by the Earth's core, which, in turn, will leave all electronics completely and utterly useless. Planes will fall, cars will crash, and boats will sink. If this, EMP does strike, then society will crumble into chaos, and the Stone Age will arise once more, resulting in the deaths of millions and -"

Jack slammed the palm of his hand into the radio, turning it off. He sighed and continued his bumper to bumper journey to work.

The day was slow, and long. Every minute or so, Jack would glance up from his dingy little desk at the clock on the wall of his small office. Time itself seemed to almost stop.

At one point, Jack stared aimlessly at the clock, transfixed on the second hands movement. Tick. Tick. Tick. A knock on the door brought him back to reality, and Clive stepped in.

"Hey Jack," he said. "How're you today?"

"I've been better. Still can't sleep, you know how it is."

"Ah, I see." he said. "Have you heard about these doomsday predictions?"

"I have."

"And I bet you think they're utter nonsense, don't you?"

"Sure do."

"See, I was in your boat about ten minutes ago. I figured, 'This is just some more Y2K bull, that will have people scared, but won't amount to anything, but-"

"And that's exactly what it will be."

"But," Clive emphasised, "there was no physical proof for the Y2K theory."

"And what proof is there of this EMP rubbish?"

"The tectonic plates. Turn on your radio."