They’d all known that they were doomed when they built that
industrial power station, big enough to power the entirety of Europe; it
was ugly and stood with a defensiveness and hatefulness. Grey and
dirty, but more efficient that several separate stations, the cables
were thick and charged as they spread their web over the countries,
protected under waters and high lining the skies – of course there were
still separate stations where the massive station was opposed and here
in England where the independent state ruled, but still it was the main
energy supplier to Europe.
It spread over thousands of
kilometres, burning tonnes and tonnes of fuel, nuclear reactors, wind
turbines, solar panels, hydroelectric dams on every river it crossed –
all creating a buzz and surge that filled the rooms with light and sound
when those in Europe simply flipped the switch. Encased in a metal
dome, recycling the waters, making the wastes into something new and
useable, it was a dream suddenly in motion and ominous in its reality.
Most of the old stations were destroyed, the building materials reused
elsewhere, the old turbines moved the new station – it cost billions and
revolutionised the European life. And it lasted for nearly a hundred
years.
Although, all the safety measures, all the protection
in the metallic casing, the recycling, reusing, sustainable energy, it
was all faulted. Breaches in security had allowed the plans to be
readily available by all who wished to see them by the grace of the
internet search engine. Protesters against the mega station sabotaged
the separate generators…
They jammed the wind turbines or
removed the huge fins, broke the solar panelling with sledgehammers and
hi-jacked all the trucks bringing in fuel to the station, dumping them
in the reservoirs and rivers until the hydroelectric dams were beaten
down or incapable of creating more energy than it used.
Then they
all lived on energy rations; one half hour of energy output per person
in a household per day, no more than eight people per household and no
luxury electrical devices, no hairdryers, no more than an hour of
computer usage per day, no television, no hoovers, no lights during the
day, no stereos, no tumble driers, no dishwashers, nothing that couldn’t
be done by the sweat off of your own brow. It was all on the strictest
of timers per household and as soon as your ration was up – there would
be nothing but darkness in the houses.
But they survived; candles
were no more just something you kept for during blackouts and
hallowe’en nights, but a staple in the home, fires in the home rather
than radiators – children learning how to make quilts, knitting,
crochet, carving ornaments, making furniture with hand tools, even lots
of adults learning the skills.
They lived off of the small
surviving stations and the nuclear reactors in the mega station, the
entire of Europe, living on a handful of stations. Some people even sold
off their rations, and made do without for days or weeks on end, only
using energy when the clothes they wore were too dirty to last longer.
There
was a halt in new manufactured goods. Hand-me-downs between families,
charity shops and reclaim, sharing the wealth and selling old furniture
rather than just throwing something away, fixing items that failed – it
became vogue. Wearing things you made with your hands, hand stitched,
hand knitted, remade from scraps of fabric – Europe became resourceful
to a point of pre-industrialisation. But it wasn’t enough for the
protesters, and then came The Day.
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