The Other Side of the Sun

By Christopher Gardner

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SUN

The world in which we live is full of technological marvels. Information is at your fingertips and as a species, we have reached a peak because of our creativity and inventiveness. What would happen to our society if this technological marvel was stripped away from us, and we were left to fig

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hermie's Workshop
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869206985

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The Other Side of the Sun

Christopher Gardner

Copyright © 2023

All Rights Reserved

Chris is an Ohio native who currently lives in Pittsburgh, PA with his wife and two sons.  Chris has been managing the sales and marketing for a local factory-direct mattress company in Pittsburgh for years, but as a former Eagle Scout, what he really loves is being outdoors and finding new adventures.  His current adventure is writing a novel about what happens when the world unexpectedly shuts down.  He hopes you’ll pack a bug-out bag and enjoy the book.

This book is dedicated to my Uncle Rob, who inspired me through his kindness, love, and infectious passion to undertake this project.  You may be gone, but your memory will live on forever in my heart.  I wish you were here to see this because it wouldn’t have happened without you.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t thank my wife for all of her efforts, encouragement, and patience with this.  I couldn't have done this without her and her contributions truly made this novel better.

In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.

Teddy Roosevelt

CHAPTER I

Do you want to know one of the real joys of my life?  The kind of joy that makes me glad to be alive?  It’s sitting at my desk, listening to someone complain that they bought the wrong bed and somehow, some way, it’s my fault.  Today started out so good for me.  The factory was humming along with no issues; we hadn’t had a single problem with any of the day’s deliveries.  Things were moving along, and with no drama.  Which is great, because I don’t like drama. 

But it wasn’t meant to be, and the phone inevitably rang, a customer demanding to speak to an owner.  My salesperson also hates drama, so the call quickly made its way to me.  So here I sit, listening to all the things that are wrong with her mattress, none of which are really my problem.  The mattress looks too tall in her room, it is uncomfortable to sit on the side to put her socks on, it doesn’t feel like the one she tried in the showroom.  As she goes from topic to topic trying to find an argument that will stick with me, I find my attention wandering off.  I’ve worked the last twelve days straight, and I have a big night off planned with my wife, Alex.  Alex is an attorney and works in downtown Pittsburgh.  She’s brilliant, beautiful, and pretty much the reason I stay sane.  Our schedules are demanding, and quality time is always at a premium.  Silently debating in my head about which restaurant to go to is much more enjoyable than trying to follow the ramblings of someone with an inability to recognize their own buyer’s remorse.  I get distracted searching for restaurants with open reservations for tonight on my phone.

Mrs. Kane is yelling into the phone now that I don’t seem to care about her problem.  Mrs. Kane, I do care that you don’t like what you bought from us.  However, the problem is everything you described is telling me you chose the wrong bed.  We have a comfort policy to help you out, but there is still a charge to exchange your mattress.  She wasn’t going to like that response, customers never like that response. 

You are a very condescending person, and I cannot believe that you own a business.  The personal insult, classic.  People can be so predictable.  Anyone in retail will tell you that a lack of personal responsibility is ruining society.  People want you to do exactly what they command you or else YOU’RE a bad person.  I have heard it a hundred times. 

I’m really not in the mood for this today. Well Mrs. Kane, if you wish to exercise the comfort policy, you have plenty of time to do that.  As I explained, the company takes a loss on the mattress when we change it out for you because we can’t resell it, and all we ask is that you pay for the delivery fee and a small exchange fee.  I said this in my most sympathetic, I really do give a crap about your problem voice.  All of what I said is true, but she just won’t like my solution. 

I am never buying anything from you again, and I will tell everyone what an awful company you are to deal with.  The line goes dead. 

I get headaches a lot, and I know it stems from these types of people.  The mentality of a person who thinks that someone else should suffer the consequences when they make a wrong decision just isn’t right.  Where is the personal responsibility?  We try to run a good business and to be fair to our customers, but the reality is that the customer definitely isn’t always right. 

The other people in the office give me sympathetic glances, knowing how much these calls can wreck my mood.  My business partner, Tom, musters an awkward and semi‑apologetic smile, obviously feeling guilty that it was most likely his turn to be berated by the Mrs. Kanes of the world, but also still feeling relieved that he wasn’t the one there when she called.  I replace the phone on the handset, lean back in the chair, and rub my temples. 

You okay, John?  She sounded like a doozy, Tyler breaks the awkward silence from across the room.  A doozy.  Such an odd expression from a kid who is all of 28; I wonder if he even understands where that expression comes from? 

Yes, yes, she was.  I resist the urge to tell him what I really think and try to muster my best manager façade. But at the end of the day, it’s customers that keep us in business.  I’m tired and can’t resist adding, even though ones like that will eventually give me the stroke that ends my career.  Snickers from those assembled.  A little off-color, but it gets my point across. 

It’s not that I mind dealing with customer service issues, and we don’t have that many issues to deal with really.  It’s just that I am out of patience after working my long stretch.  Owning your own business is the American dream, but a lot of work comes with that dream.  Part of me does wish I had just given Mrs. Kane what she wanted and saved myself from the rest of that phone call.  Maybe it would have been worth it to save myself from this headache.

I take a long sip of my tea and decide it is time for a walk in the factory.  My factory has fifteen people working today.  All in all, I have a pretty good group of people.  Of course, in any group you have the two or three that you could do without.  All groups have troublemakers, and my group is no exception.  It’s Friday, though, so the mood is relatively good, even though everyone today is extra sweaty. 

Walking out into the factory is like entering a sauna.  Every summer Pittsburgh has a couple of days like this, and I immediately feel bad for my crew.  When I was driving into work this morning, I stopped to buy a bunch of Gatorade and water for everyone.  On the hottest days, my partner and I try to do this as a we appreciate what you do kind of treat.  This last week has been unseasonably hot, and today the factory is feeling it.  I grab an orange Gatorade on my way through the factory floor.  Twisting off the top, it tastes good in the heat of the factory.  Our building is constructed such that it takes a couple of days for the temperature on the inside to match that of the outside.  It’s not air-conditioned.  Fifty-three thousand square feet with docks constantly being opened and closed makes that not an option. 

Taking another long drink from my bottle, I see that most of the day’s work is done.  Our facility is a very open layout.  From the showroom, you can look out into the production area.  Row upon row of finished product fills up the left third of the factory floor.  Behind the production area, most of the space is taken up with the storage of raw materials.  It doesn’t take a lot of physical space to make a bunch of mattresses; however, it does take a lot of space to house all the raw materials.  Stacks of foam, cotton, mattress ticking, and other raw materials just take a lot of space and the stacks reach nearly to the ceiling.  As I walk, mattresses and box springs are neatly stacked on skids waiting to be inspected.  It’s impressive; even with everyone hot and tired, the beds on the skids look great.  I run my hand along the border, feeling the fabric, making sure all the stitches are tight. 

How do they look, boss? asks Bill, probably my best worker in the factory.  He’s not the kind of guy you want to talk to when the factory crew first arrives at 6 a.m. in the morning, but since it’s afternoon, he’s generally pleasant. 

They look good, Bub, I reply.  Bub is his nickname, and I have no idea why.  Make sure you get enough to drink today; I don’t do mouth-to-mouth on guys, I joke. 

Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want you to anyway, Bub laughs.  Bub is a seriously tough dude.  Not only is his job physically demanding, but he spends a lot of time working out in his free time.  Even he looks drained at this point in the week.  I continue my end of the day rounds and each station is much the same, pleasantries and teasing insults exchanged between the staff and me.

The factory looks like a mess.  One thing about a mattress factory, at the end of the day it definitely needs a good cleaning.  You can always tell what time of day it is by looking at buildup of cotton debris on the factory floor. 

I see you looking at the floor.  We’ll get it cleaned before we leave,  my factory supervisor, Ken, announces from behind me. 

I’m just looking around.  I know it’ll be done by the end of the day.  I say this out loud, but I think to myself that I’m only halfway sure about that.  One thing about Ken, he does like to get out of here at the first opportunity, especially on a Friday.  Work is not the main focus of his life.  Last month I had to have a talk with Ken about his performance, his dealings with his people, and his overall attitude.  I don’t shy away from those types of conversations, but I definitely don’t seek them out either.  People like Ken frustrate me, because they are a little too self-involved for my taste.  Not that I’m not selfish at times; everyone is, but I really try to at least think about other people.  It’s one of those life-long things, thinking about how your own actions are going to affect other people.  Easy to say but tough to live out, I suppose.  I’ve nearly finished my Gatorade already.  Walking around the factory seeing everyone drenched with sweat, I’m doubly glad I stopped for it this morning. 

I make my way to the very back of the factory.  It’s not too far of a walk; figure five hundred feet max.  The parking area behind the building is where I go when I want to sneak a smoke and get away from everyone.  I don’t classify myself as a smoker, but I do like an occasional cigarette.  I’m sure that to anyone looking at me, the distinction is not readily clear, but it makes sense in my head.  Standing outside the farthest door at the back of the factory usually affords me some privacy. 

The hot, still air of the factory is replaced by the hotter still, but slightly breezy, air of the outside.  Instinctively, I pull my phone out to check on things.  It’s 2:35 PM, no texts from Alex.  Lighting my cigarette in the breeze is a little tricky, but I persevere.  Inhaling my first breath is an absolute delight, which I know in my head is absolutely wrong, but at this point in the day, I really don’t care. 

Alex has been inordinately quiet all day, not too much in the way of texts.  That can only mean her clients want everything done ASAP today.  I put my phone back in my pocket, leaning against the wall.  Pull after pull of my cigarette goes down smooth.  Tipping my head back to exhale the smoke, I noticed the sky looks so bright.  Today is one of those cloudless days, but the sky has a beautifully clear, almost radiant quality to it.  It’s quite beautiful.  The wind picks up again, blowing some of my smoke inside.  Every day I shoo people away from open doors while they smoke.  I decide to walk down the length of the building a bit to get away from the door.  I don’t want to do the exact thing that I tell people not to do.  Management 101.

Leaning against the wall, I can feel the past twelve days letting go.  The customers, the employee issues, all of it seems less burdensome standing here alone.  Just a few more hours till a weekend off, I mutter.  It’s kind of sad.  Normal people don’t work the way my wife and I do, and at times it pisses me off.  We laugh at our ridiculousness when we take the evening off, which usually consists of stopping our work at 7 or 8 to eat dinner and watch TV or something.  The thought makes me smile though, it’s our life.  It’s a life not many people would choose to live.  Tonight is going to be different.  We’re both going to take advantage of it being Friday to get home at a decent hour and do something together, and I’m hopeful that means a good dinner.  To us, there is nothing better than a good meal and a couple of drinks to celebrate the end of the week.

The breeze was warm.  Strange that it would be so breezy without any clouds or weather around, but I do love warm breezes.  Warm, humid breezes remind me of growing up in Florida.  I realize it’s a bit of a stretch to find any similarities between Florida and Pittsburgh weather.  I remember when I first moved to Miami - I was twelve.  I had lived in Ohio for my entire life up to that point, and Miami was a beautiful tropical oasis compared to where I grew up.  I’m not generally someone who complains about anything having to do with warm weather.  It takes a lot to make me feel overheated, and I can honestly say that I don’t remember ever complaining about the weather when I lived in Miami.  It was wonderful. 

My cigarette long since went out, but I don’t care.  I love the quiet and the warm breeze blowing across me.  Guilt, my most go to emotion, was creeping into my mind.  Turning on my heel, I decide I’ve taken enough break.  As I step into the building and close the door, I see that it’s way too dark.  Son of a bitch, I say to myself walking through the door.  Who turned off the lights in the middle of the workday?

CHAPTER II

I seriously don’t need this today.  Why can’t I just have a normal Friday without some bullshit issue like this to deal with?  Factory policy is for all employees to leave their workstations during a power outage.  Looks like an extra break for everybody today.  Just what I love, paid downtime.  The employees aren’t going to be happy about this either, because I know everyone is hurrying up to get out of here for the weekend.

As I scan the production area, it looks like all the day’s production has been built, although not everything is inspected.  That’s a bonus, at least we have everything made.  That takes some of the pressure off.  Power outages do happen from time to time for some reason in this area.  I blame it on the fact that we’re located in an older section of Pittsburgh, which has some outdated infrastructure.  That’s not a dig on Pittsburgh, just the facts.  The worst power outage we ever had was several years ago during the height of our busy season.  It was a day in July or August, actually pretty close to this time of the year.  The production schedule was huge, and the power went out at the very beginning of the shift.  Long story short, it was out for more than half of the day and we didn’t finish the production schedule until almost 9 PM that day.  You want to talk about a pissed-off manufacturing staff. 

A power outage on Friday double sucks.  Since Saturday is our busiest delivery day of the week, we preload all our delivery trucks Friday night so the drivers can just show up on Saturday and leave.  In theory, loading the trucks on Friday allows us to start earlier and do a few extra deliveries on Saturday.  I look around and wonder if we could at least inspect and finish putting everything away while the power is out.  There’s some natural light coming through the windows.  But I guess I should worry about the quality of inspection without the factory lights on, I sigh.  I head back toward the office.  Hopefully, it won’t be that long.  Most of these things last less than ten minutes.

Walking up from the back of the warehouse, I notice that none of the emergency lights are working.  Why didn’t those pop on?  I make a mental note to talk to Ken about checking the batteries in the emergency lights.  What’s the benefit of an emergency light if it doesn’t come on in an emergency?

The front office and the showroom are always interesting places during a power outage.  The normal hum of all the computers and printers is missing, and an unnerving quietness replaces it.  It’s pitch black in the office and most of the sales staff have migrated out of the office and into the showroom where there is at least some natural light coming from the front windows. 

Why aren’t these lanterns working, I overhear Tom saying upon entering the office from the back hallway. He’s carrying one of the emergency lanterns from the storage room. Tom’s tone immediately makes me feel defensive and knowing Tom, he’s probably implying that it’s somehow my fault. 

Did no one charge the batteries after the last power outage? I ask with a twinge of sarcasm, knowing full well that it was a bit confrontational.  Tom was the unofficial keeper of the emergency lanterns, so why shouldn’t I push the accusation back on him.  Tom is a good guy and a decent partner, but sometimes his hyper-critical attitude just gets under my skin.

Tom replies, I don’t understand, I recharged them and put them back in their boxes.  I’m sure he did, but obviously he screwed something up or else they’d be working.  Thank goodness it was dark and he couldn’t see the smug look on my face.  I’m not a total jerk, but Tom is a perfectionist and loves to point out other people’s mistakes, so it always feels like some form of justice when he makes a mistake, intentional or not.

Since there isn’t much you can do in the dark, I sit down at my desk for a couple of minutes.  I pull out my phone to text Alex, but I must have turned it off somehow.  I try rebooting it, but the screen is dead.  Oh, come on, I say out loud.  Now my frigging phone isn’t working? 

Mine’s not working either, someone says from the dark. 

Tyler sounds confused, I tried rebooting mine, but I’m getting nothing.  Great, nobody’s phone is working. That makes no sense whatsoever. 

Um, guys? Kim says from the showroom door.  You might want to look outside. 

Now what, I grouse.  Knowing that this day has suddenly turned against me, I’m half expecting to see some of my employees fist fighting or something.  I get up from my chair to head to the showroom.  The office to the showroom is only about twenty feet, but that doesn’t stop me from slamming my knee into my desk drawer.  Son of a bitch!  My temper is rising. 

Rounding the corner, slightly limping, I’m struck by the odd look on everyone’s faces.  With no lights, the sunlight coming in through the showroom windows is highlighting a different feature on each face.  It’s odd to see everyone standing perfectly still, not moving, eyes fixed on the showroom windows.  Fear isn’t the right word to register what I see in their faces, maybe apprehension?  My eyes instinctively go to where everyone is looking.  Outside, all of the cars are just completely stopped in the middle of the street, up and down the highway onramp that wraps around the parking lot. Not one of them is moving at all.

What the heck is going on out there? I say to no one in particular.  I’m sure my face has the same dumb look that everyone else has right now.  Outside, people are walking around their cars, opening hoods, and looking confused.  Out of habit, I pull my phone out again to text Alex.  Nothing, still dead. 

Curiosity is getting the best of me, so I tell the people assembled by the windows that I’m going outside.  From the front showroom door, I can see up and down the road, and I can see the highway from the front of the building.  As I look, I see cars stopped everywhere, people walking around, and hoods popped.  In the distance, several plumes of smoke were rising.  Car crashes?  Most of my factory people seem to be in their own vehicles trying to start them.  Some have migrated to the front of the building and are doing the same thing as me, just looking totally befuddled. 

Is your phone working?  One of my factory kids, Vinny, has made it to the edge of the road where I am standing. 

No, doesn’t look like anything is working.  Looking at Vinny’s face, you can almost make out the panic.  I’m sure it isn’t anything too serious; we just need to stay calm and wait for things to pop back on.  The whole thing is definitely making me uneasy, but I’m not about to tell anyone else that because I don’t need anyone overreacting. 

I’ve got to go home and make sure everyone is ok.  I roll my eyes silently in my head.  Going home did not seem like such a great idea since we still had work to finish before the weekend. 

We’re still not done with production for the day.  Why don’t you just hang out for a little while until things come back on.  We were so close to being done for the day, so why rush out of here without just finishing things up before the weekend. 

I’m going home to make sure everything is ok.  If I get a point, I get a point.  Vinny was referring to our attendance policy where employees get points for not working a full shift.  Absolutely he’ll get a point if he leaves before working a full day. 

Vinny lives right down the road and often walks to work, so I suggested, Why don’t you walk home and check in.  When the power comes back on, we need you back so we can finish the production schedule.  That seemed a reasonable compromise, but Vinny gave me a noncommittal look of Yep, I’ll be back alright. 

As Vinny starts walking home, I decide to head around back to where most of my factory employees are hanging out.  I suspect that with people’s cars not starting, Vinny’s sentiment is going to be pretty prevalent.  Walking through the gate to the side lot, the realization that my Friday night plans are about to be ruined is really putting some significant downward pressure my mood.  I can see the future and it’s me holding the bag on finishing up the production schedule for the day. 

Most people are now standing by their cars; if it wasn’t so confusing, it would be almost comical to see everyone looking so befuddled.  There was also quite a lot of swearing going on.  I walk over to where Ken is standing by his car and ask, Is anything working in your car? 

No, the radio doesn’t work, nothing. It doesn’t even click when you turn the key.  Looking inside the hood, I realize quickly that I am going to be absolutely zero help to anyone out here.  I’m not what you would call mechanically inclined.

Yep, looks like an engine in there, I say, trying to lighten the mood.  Well, I’m going to head back inside now that my work here is done.  I at least get a couple of weak smiles.

Walking back up front towards the showroom entrance, the cool air feels nice but also gives me a strange chill.  I notice that several of the sales staff are also outside now checking their cars.  The evening salespeople are still standing by the windows, watching the activity outside and absent-mindedly fiddling with the dead phones in their hands.  As I enter the showroom and look up through the interior windows, I see several people moving around the factory, gathering their personal items. 

What the hell! I say out loud.  We still aren’t done with production out there, I fuss to nobody in particular.  I’m not sure that everyone is pulling a Vinny, but the last thing I want right now is to be the last man standing when the power pops back on.  If I have to inspect the schedule myself, then there goes my entire Friday evening off. 

What’s going on outside? Tyler asks hesitantly, distracting me from what’s going on in the factory. 

What?  Turning to look at him, Oh.  As far as I can see there isn’t a single car working out there.  Lots of people are just walking around.  I remember my irritation.  And inside it looks like people are getting ready to leave for some reason, I snap, hoping the sarcasm hit its mark. 

Alex!  Suddenly my mind explodes with the realization that whatever this thing is, it might be affecting her too.  Like an idiot, I pull out my phone to check to see if she’s texted me.  Why isn’t this damn thing working? I say aloud.  The phone is still dead, just like it was five minutes ago, just like it was five minutes before that. 

How far is downtown from the factory?  Must be at least six or seven miles, I think to myself.  My mind is racing now; I can feel my palms starting to get sweaty.  What was her schedule today?  My wife works in a corporate law firm, and even in this age of email and video conferencing, she does still travel to see her clients from time to time.  I hope she’s okay and not in an unfamiliar place.  Suddenly I feel like Vinny, and part of me feels bad for giving him some grief about leaving. 

As my mind is plotting what to do, my factory supervisor comes into the showroom.  I’m sending anyone home who wants to go.  Ken seems to have a plan. Those who don’t want to leave will bag up the rest of the schedule and clean the place up. 

Sounds reasonable, just make sure everyone is careful without lights.  Ken is too distracted to pay any attention to my statement of the obvious and he turns around and hustles back into the factory.  I’m definitely concerned about the quality of inspection now.  I have appreciation for the people who are going to stay, but then I realize that they might not be able to get home.  Not everyone lives close enough to walk like Vinny.  Man, I hope that whatever is going on, it didn’t do any permanent damage to our cars.

I head back to my desk and just stand there, taking a moment to think.  The back office is so dark without lights.  It must be about three, maybe three thirty.  My mind is racing now, but I try to keep calm.  I don’t think Alex was going anywhere today.  That’s good.  I would be on the edge of a panic attack if I knew she was seventy miles away in Wheeling or something. 

Ok, so Alex should be downtown.  That’s good because she’ll be pretty safe in her building with everyone else.  Still, I have a definite sense of foreboding about what happens next.  Have all the cars in the city stopped working, or is it just something around us here?  If I know my wife, she’ll take some time to evaluate the situation but eventually she’ll calculate that the factory is closer to our house than downtown and she won’t waste too much time heading my way.  If this thing goes on for a while, she might even head my way tonight.  She won’t want to stay downtown too late, and if anyone in her office starts heading out by foot, she’ll go with them.  A six-mile hike in high heels sounds awful to me, but I’m sure that she can do it.  I think briefly about walking her direction to try to meet up with her, but there are just too many unknowns since I can’t communicate with her.  There are multiple routes between here and downtown, and if I don’t know what time she’s leaving and what route she’s taking, it seems highly like that I would just miss her.  Better to stay put and hope that she heads this way. 

My thoughts turn to my employees, and I remember that I still have three delivery trucks out on the road.  I assume that if this is city-wide, their trucks won’t be working either.  I feel a sudden weight on my shoulders realizing that I need to figure that out too.  Facts and scenarios are bouncing around fast in my mind.  I’ve never considered myself to be an overly anxious person, but I am prone to overthinking things and getting testy when I don’t have good solutions.  I grab the delivery logs for the day and walk back out to where there’s enough light to read them.  Fridays are usually a pretty light delivery day and the drivers are motivated to stay ahead of schedule, so at least one of the three trucks should be close to the factory right about now.  As for the other two, based on the delivery logs, one is probably still at least twenty miles away, and I realize with a sense of dread that the other might still be in West Virginia. 

Crap, I mutter to myself.  If our vehicles and phones aren’t working, there really isn’t anything I can do for them at the moment.  One issue at a time, but they are probably on their own for the time being.  I guess we should be glad it’s not winter.  Certainly won’t freeze to death today, so at least they’ve got that going for them.

All this darkness and quietness isn’t working for me.  I’m feeling restless, so I decide to get up and head out into the factory again.  I figure that I can at least take my mind off of all of the problems that I can’t solve by helping finish up the work for the day.  It’s already getting warm in the office now without any air conditioning, so I take off my tie and dress shirt and toss them over the back of my desk chair.  I can only imagine how much hotter it’s going to be in the factory. 

I head out to the factory and see that only five of the fifteen factory employees decided to stay.  Looking around, I calculate that these five who stayed are the ones who can’t easily walk home, and you can clearly see some stress on their faces.  I guess everything has been out for over an hour now, and like me, people seem to be realizing that this might be a real problem.  This is the quietest these people have ever been.  Usually, the inspection area is a hotbed of conversation, but no one has said a word since I joined the party.

Everyone ok? I ask.  Nobody really replies with much more than one-word answers. 

It’s always helpful to have something to occupy yourself with, so I decide to be the carry man.  One of the first jobs I ever had in a mattress factory was the carry guy.  The carry guy is the one who picks up the inspected piece and puts it away in the inventory stacks.  The newest and youngest member of the team usually does this job, which at this point is certainly not me.  The first piece I pick up bursts me into a noticeable sweat.  Piece after piece I pick up and put away.  Within an hour, we’ve got the remaining pieces inspected and put away, and I’m drenched.  Leaning against the inspection table, Rich gives me a pat on the back.

Well done, young man.  I smile, Rich isn’t that much older than me.  I’m grateful for his attempt at normalcy.

As the remainder of the factory workers start sweeping up and taking the trash out, I head for the lunchroom to get some water. 

Getting a bit toasty in here, I note to no one in particular.  I grab a cup and get some water out of the water cooler.  The water is still cold even without electricity.  It tastes good and I down three glasses.  I grab a paper towel and turn on the faucet at the sink.  Something else that works!  Two for two.  I wet my paper towel and wipe off my face and neck.  Feeling refreshed, I head back to the office and put my dress shirt back on. 

How’s it going up here? I say to the darkness. 

Same as when you left, responds someone matter-of-factly from just beyond the shadows, at the edge of the showroom.  A couple of the salespeople are standing outside talking to people I’m sure they don’t know.  Tom is standing silently and very still by the windows at the front of the showroom.  I walk up to the windows and stand next to him. 

What do you think? I ask Tom. 

I think something is majorly wrong, Tom says with a real edge in his voice that surprises me.  Power being out, I understand that, happens all the time.  All our phones not working, maybe there’s a connection there to the power being out. But cars not working, plus the other two?  He lets that hang there for a minute. 

My mind cuts back to Alex and my own worries about if and when she will get here and how she and I are going to make it the nine or ten more miles home this evening without a car.  What’s your plan then? I ask. 

Tom sighs, I honestly have no idea but I’m trying to figure that out.  My kids should have been in school when everything went out, and I think my first step is to head that direction.  I’m sure they’re safe for now and that the schools aren’t releasing them, but this thing doesn’t appear to be resolving itself anytime soon.  Our house is closer to the school, so Dionne might head over to get them, but who knows.  She might not even know what’s going on if she hasn’t tried to use her phone or get in the car.  It’s just so frustrating that my phone won’t work because I have no idea what’s going on with any of them.  If I head over to the school, I can either get the kids or see if Dionne has already been there. 

How far is the school from here? I ask. 

I’m actually not sure, but I think it’s only a couple of miles, so it shouldn’t take me too long to get there, he says.  I’m suddenly glad that I only have to worry about Alex at the moment since we don’t have any children, but it seems like there are a lot of variables for everyone to consider. 

In the back of my mind, I still haven’t given up on things getting back to normal so I can have my nice Friday night off, but I know the right thing to do is to offer to cover things here and let Tom head out to check on his family.  Well, you better leave soon so you can do your walking while it’s still light out.  The rest of us will just figure things out here.  I have a begrudging tone to my voice,