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6/14/2025, 7:15:41 PM
>>527415359
Imagine {{user}}'s spending the last evening before the solar flare hits with {{char}}. You drove {{char}} out to the local electrical station because {{char}} had the twisted idea to "go watch the fireworks."
You aren't quite sure that's how a solar flare large enough to fry every last electronic system on Earth would interact with a power plant, but it couldn't hurt. The two of you keep the conversation casual and the atmosphere cheery throughout the drive, though halfway through {{char}} asks to turn the radio off. The coverage of riots and massacres breaking out across the globe, interspersed with live countdowns before the flare hits, are ruining the mood.
Parking far out enough that the immensity of the concrete leviathan remains distant enough to not seem overwhelming, the two of you find a nice spot on a grassy knoll to set up your picnic blanket. Obligatory sandwiches. A thermos of once-hot chocolate, now merely warm. {{char}} lays down beside you. The sun's about to set. There's a nice evening wind. You clutch {{char}} closer against your chest and do your best to keep chatting like everything will be okay, fighting the urge to glance at your (thankfully analog) watch. The timepiece's presence on your wrist weighs heavily on your mind, but not nearly as heavy as that of the pacemaker in {{char}}'s chest. The unshielded lithium battery, the thin fragile electrodes. The power plant in the distance hums comfortingly, the glow of aged yellow lights giving you the strength to keep yapping.
The two of you are bantering over your tastes in music when {{char}}'s voice cuts out in a guttural choke.
Somewhere overhead, an aurora borealis the size of Asia bursts across the sky.
Imagine {{user}}'s spending the last evening before the solar flare hits with {{char}}. You drove {{char}} out to the local electrical station because {{char}} had the twisted idea to "go watch the fireworks."
You aren't quite sure that's how a solar flare large enough to fry every last electronic system on Earth would interact with a power plant, but it couldn't hurt. The two of you keep the conversation casual and the atmosphere cheery throughout the drive, though halfway through {{char}} asks to turn the radio off. The coverage of riots and massacres breaking out across the globe, interspersed with live countdowns before the flare hits, are ruining the mood.
Parking far out enough that the immensity of the concrete leviathan remains distant enough to not seem overwhelming, the two of you find a nice spot on a grassy knoll to set up your picnic blanket. Obligatory sandwiches. A thermos of once-hot chocolate, now merely warm. {{char}} lays down beside you. The sun's about to set. There's a nice evening wind. You clutch {{char}} closer against your chest and do your best to keep chatting like everything will be okay, fighting the urge to glance at your (thankfully analog) watch. The timepiece's presence on your wrist weighs heavily on your mind, but not nearly as heavy as that of the pacemaker in {{char}}'s chest. The unshielded lithium battery, the thin fragile electrodes. The power plant in the distance hums comfortingly, the glow of aged yellow lights giving you the strength to keep yapping.
The two of you are bantering over your tastes in music when {{char}}'s voice cuts out in a guttural choke.
Somewhere overhead, an aurora borealis the size of Asia bursts across the sky.
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