Joseph H2O2ward Deadnight A frail buzzing entered my dreams, like an electric alarm clock running out of juice. A bee chased me around for a while and then disappeared; and I realized I was awake. Something was wrong. I opened my eyes. I thought I opened them. I couldn't see anything. I put hands to my face to feel the lids blinking. I couldn't have gone blind, not like that. Darkness like hades, itself. Panic pressing in. Where am I? It's never this dark. They're coming for me. They've found me at last. God help me... Wait a minute. The palest glow, so dim it registered only when I looked a little away. Over there. I felt around the bed to orient myself. Slowed my racing heart. Willed the sweat to stop coming. Found the glow, put my face to it - the dying LEDs of the alarm clock registering just past get-up time, 4:00 AM. Electricity must be off. Clock ran on battery backup until the alarm buzzer ran it down -- the buzzing in my dreams. That's it. Just a power outage. That's all. Just this building, just this block. Happens all the time, especially now with all the terrorists and the strikes. I took a couple of deep breaths, tried to control the shakes. Couldn't. Had to know. Struggled out of bed. Blankets all tangled. Pulled them off the bed and threw them. Don't panic. Don't panic. Got up. Knocked over the night table, gouged its corner into my thigh. Damn. To far left. To the right some. There's the window, high above the city. Shade nice and heavy. Plenty of light outside, surely. I raised the shade. The city was black. I opened the window. Dead silence. Cities are never black and dead, not even on a moonless, overcast night, for the clouds reflect the street lights and the headlights, they're coming for me! Where but the deep woods far from a city can you go where it is totally black at night? They're coming for me! No. A massive power outage. That's all. I looked toward City General. The hospital would have auxiliary power. Couldn't find it. No headlights. No cars running. Here and there a tiny prick of light. Flashlights, perhaps. It is they. Surely it is they. Only they could stop a city. Only they would want to. For me. Fully, coldly awake, now, I became very calm. I was sure of my situation. I was not caught yet. I had made what preparations I could. As I searched for my equipment, feeling slowly along the hall, I realized I'd stayed too long. I'd become fond of these humans, fond of this place. A fugitive from my people, I'd found in the warring, petty primitives of Earth too much of my own restless character. Too creative, too selfish, too immature. Unable to live in the country, I'd even become used to their cities' foul-tasting air. Half-way down the hall, I realized I'd left the flashlight somewhere by the bed. I groped back, found it. Turned it on. Dim. Usable. Let's see, five batteries. Seven-point-five volts. The drain field must begin at about six volts, be fully effective at ten, except for low currents. Enough to shut down all strong electrical and electronic interference without killing organic life-force itself. Enough to pick out brain waves. Enough to detect mine. They wouldn't be able to start getting a fix until I woke up, just moments ago. They'd have the general area by now, but probably not my building, unless they'd made advances I didn't know about. But why would they start looking when I'd be asleep? And when did they start? I got to the closet and began to put on my pack -- the gear that would mask my aura. Seventy years ago when I came to this city they had just electrified the street lights and some of the homes; but the transformers were so inefficient and poorly shielded they sent out hash all across the spectrum. Very good cover. But why had I stayed so long? I watched their technology explode, their atmosphere foul, crime multiply exponentially, crudeness replace gentility. Why did they do this to themselves? Did their glory and power blind them? Yet I stayed. Do I love them? I had the pack on and operational. I pocketed the flashlight and my weapon and felt my way to the apartment door. Outside, the hall was black. Emergency lighting was twelve volts, completely absorbed. That's why they did it so early. Less panic. Almost everyone asleep. Can they catch sleepers now? I'd lived a quiet life these seventy years. Having arrived before Social Security and credit cards, I found it easy to continue using cash, avoiding the scrutiny of the credit net. I'd changed my location a few times, my name and my friends. It was hard letting them go, seeing them die so young. I found the stairwell, 31 flights to ground. Opened the door. Someone coming up. No lights. No! Not this soon! Not daring to use the flash, I ran blindly. By dead reckoning I found the other stairwell. Down three flights, located the steel door to the maintenance closet, unlocked it, went in. No use locking it again. It wouldn't stop them. I controlled my breathing, my pulse, my sweat, my shaking, my brain waves. Find me now if you can. Minutes ago I must have been asleep, a bee buzzing in my dreams. Minutes. How long does it take someone on a respirator to die? In a hospital? At home? My God, they're killing my city. There must be thousands suffocating. On respirators, and in underground rooms and tunnels with forced ventilation. There must be people on elevators screaming in panic. Cars running downhill without power steering and brakes, with little women at the wheels who don't have the strength to control them. How long have the lights been out? Minutes? Hours? "Damn you! They can't help the way they are. They're frightened and frail enough without you adding to their burdens. Do you know what it's like to fear disease and crime and death all the time? Leave them alone!" I burst through the door of my priest-hole, threw away my pack, ran up the stairs, falling, hurting myself. Through the fire door into the hall. There they were -- Klaurum - faintly luminescent creatures resembling slugs with foliage. They don't need light. I hadn't seen such for 70 years. "Stop!" I yelled as they turned my way. "Kill the drain field. You're killing my city." My tongue found a language it had not spoken in decades. The sound fell strangely on my ears. "You're giving yourself up?" "Yes, yes, yes!" I threw them my weapon. "Turn off the drain field." The hall lights came on. Someone looked out a door and quickly closed it. "Do you know how many people you've killed?" "Do you think he's rehabilitated?" said one Klaurum to the other two. "Yes. I think so." "Answer me!" I yelled. "Still very assertive, isn't he." "Answer me!" "We've killed none. The drain field was local to your apartment and parts of this building. We put a sound- and light-sink field next to your window. "See for yourself. The city's in no panic." I ran to my apartment, to the bedroom window. All the night light was there. A bus growled away from a stop 31 stories below. "So you outsmarted me. Since I never got your warrant -- I know the law -- you can't lengthen my sentence by more than a year for a year." "My dear friend," said a Klaurum, "you're free. You've served. Here on Earth," he added. "What do you mean?" "I mean we had a tracer on you. You never got away. "When you settled here, we figured it was misery enough. We just came around to see how you'd acquit yourself if you thought you were going to be caught. "You surprised us with your magnanimity. You were more concerned with these animals than with yourself." "They are not animals. They are people, like us. Perhaps they don't have our advancement, but I love them." "Well! But then perhaps you know them better than we. "Let's go. Your disruptiveness is forgiven. We welcome you back to society." "I'm not going." If I were to leave, I'd not be allowed back. But having let me settle and having no charges against me, they could not make me go -- the fifty years' rule. "What?" "I'm staying here. I'm used to here." "But you're giving up civilization!" "I'm giving up a stagnant civilization for one that has more vigor." "You know," a Klaurum said, "they're going to blow themselves up in a few years. We checked your ship. The fuel has died. We can't guarantee getting you off if a nuclear war starts." "I'll take that chance. Please don't drop by before then." I was cutting myself off, fearful of loosing my resolve. "One last chance..." "No." I showed them the door and closed it. So many times I wanted to help these humans, but could not. I had lived in fear of discovery. Now I was free. To do what? For all my knowledge and longevity I was still only one man who would not be believed if he told the truth. I looked out my window at a slowly awakening city below. Well, I am a writer. Now I can say things without worrying an agent might pick up my off-worldliness. Yes, I have some advantage. I felt a momentary touch of panic for having burned my bridge to my people. Jerk. But I was happier than I'd been in 70 years.