The blackout had been fun. That is to say: it had been far better than the whiteout for not causing as much catastrophe. Most unfortunately, it had put a damper on any potential cheer there was to be had in attending her first settlement party without a chaperone. Months had passed and still nobody had nominated themselves as the Sherriff’s replacement. It was disappointing but to be expected when no-one had proven they possessed an above average sense of responsibility or interest in any life beyond their own. Better an empty seat than one filled by an idiot. Besides, Baby had been managing fairly well amidst the absence. Though she longed for command and routine and less self-governed thinking, there was pleasure in getting to galavant in any direction she saw fit rather than seeking permission at every turn. She had herself to discuss and troubleshoot with, which she did often. Most recently, on the porch of the settlement, she’d debated with herself the pros and cons between staying on site, retreating to her common house bedroom, or taking up her usual post in town. In cases of emergency, the clinic and the police station where the known doors to pound on. The clinic had the luxury of several bodies, but the station had one. Long story short: inevitably, guilt had set in about daring to take personal evening and Baby had taken off toward the station in a sprint.
There was no indicator on any calendar a winter solstice or eclipse was due. Nor any mercury in retrograde or Mayan doomsday. The sun had simply stayed set. Baby could only wait patiently until the planets re-aligned and host hourly (approximate) tests that gravity was still functioning as it should. Determined to train appropriately to meet the setting's challenge, she avoided wasting any resources on candlelight. In the confines of the station, Baby enjoyed being able to control every facet of her prolonged night. With the windows already covered, she was accustomed to the warped nature of nighttime — how it could last before dusk and beyond dawn, blurry and infinite. It took only an hour for vision to adapt beneath total darkness and begin to see the world anew. Not with total clarity, but far better when left uninterrupted.
Without being forced to readjust to different light levels in each room, in the dilation of darkness the night was given undulating shapes, shades, and colours. Baby preferred the hazy glow of white and beige objects to the lost harsh lighting. Had no objections to experiencing something new, exercising a new skill that relied on collective participation to work. Stacks of papers suddenly become beacons, contrasting against the shadows like pillars of marble. Words like graphite sketches on ebony canvas. So long as the darkness remained constant, her modified vision remained intact. The dim exposure would also have its limits, which she intended to find out. Organising, cataloguing, solitaire card games, and jogging were safe in large doses. Reading was possible, though she was forced to forgo the activity between strained headaches. Her markers of time were gathered emotionally and physically, mostly through hunger and drowsiness. Any giddiness from the party had long faded; in its place a lingering stomachache protested the assortment of drinks and mystery ferments she’d readily consumed without pause.
The station had been sentenced to a deliberately unlit state since The Sunset until someone in need would choose to reacquaint the space with light. In the absence of anything above a shadow, even weakest source had the effect of a fluorescent tube flickering to life, assaulting the peaceful pit of the station with a radiant heat which stung to behold. Baby’s pupils contracted rapidly in the doorway of the hall leading to the main foyer, involuntarily reacting to an unpredictable shift in the atmosphere. She squinted at the firelight with slight disdain, undoing all sensory sensitivity which had been so well preserved. All at once, the room lost its subtle tones and illustrations, leaving Baby only capable of registering the area illuminated by what the light spilled on in a box of pitch black nothingness. A spot lingered at the centre of her gaze even when she glanced away, seared by the impression of her guest. Baby recognised the voice’s strange lilting dialect before she clocked the familiar face. Beautiful features mismatched with a difficult personality. Someone she had not particularly enjoyed encountering, despite best efforts to be hospitable and truthful. A suppressed smile indented faint dimples across Baby's cheeks, considering the amount of time which had passed since. Juliette must have known now. It warmed her from within to be right, then made her stomach ache with nerves. Seeing her was one thing, but interacting with her directly was another hurdle entirely.
“What’s up? There’s no master fuse box up here, if that’s what you’re after,” a casual check-in before she bit the inside of her lip, lingering sulk fanning an uncharacteristic coal of petulance which let off plumes of smoke once prodded. Her stomach churned again. So many dismissed her well-written welcome spiels only to have the audacity to show up and ask for help, or die. Year after year. The town loved inviting in unappreciative people the most. I told you so. “Unless you don’t believe in electricity, either…”
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