JOSH.
The air felt heavy. Like the sky had dropped closer overnight and no one told it to leave.
Storms weren't rare in late summer. But this one wasn't like the others. The barometric pressure had been falling steadily for hours — the kind that made dogs whine and machines buzz off-key. Luna stuck close to Houdini, ears twitching with every gust of wind that raked across the rooftop dome.
Inside, the lights flickered once.
Twice.
"That's not us," Jules muttered.
We all turned to the control room feed. Cam 1A, facing south. The skyline had gone from moody grey to nearly pitch-black — buildings blinking out one by one like dying stars.
Then, in a heartbeat, the entire Toronto grid failed.
Streetlights gone.
Billboards, gone.
Even the red warning strobes on the unfinished tower across the street vanished — snuffed out like a final breath.
The city held its breath.
And so did we.
Boris moved to the window, pulling the blackout panel aside just enough to watch the void outside.
"It's not just us. That's the whole sector."
"EMP?" Jessi asked, already reaching for the manual comms system.
"No pulse spike," Jules replied. "Just a coordinated collapse."
"Maybe the grid couldn't handle the demand," Boris offered.
"Or maybe someone helped it collapse," I said.
Silence.
Outside, the wind picked up — high and sharp, like it was trying to whistle through a hole that hadn't formed yet.
Our internal lights held steady — powered by the rooftop solar and battery reserves. The green hum of our private grid felt almost obscene compared to the black chasm beyond our windows.
We were the only lights left.
A lighthouse.
A target.
Jules snapped her fingers and pointed at me.
"We shut down the outer perimeter glows now. Just leave the thermals and motion detectors."
"You think they'll come sooner?" I asked.
"I think anyone watching this city just saw us blink the wrong way."
I nodded, moving to the control board.
"Blackout protocol. All external light sources off. Switch to ghost mode."
The systems flickered, dimmed.
And suddenly, even inside the tower, it felt like the storm had entered with us.
Jessi pulled her sweater tighter and didn't say anything. Boris double-checked the rooftop access locks.
Luna let out a low, uncertain growl.Houdini moved in front of her.
"She's coming," Jules said under her breath, almost too quiet to hear.
"Rosie?"
Jules shook her head once.
"All of them."
--
It started with a thud.
Soft, at first. Dull. Like someone knocking gently out of habit.
Then came the second hit — louder. A closed fist, striking the lower lobby glass. Then another, farther down. Two voices. Then three.
By the time I reached the monitor in the control room, there were five figures outside the main entrance.
One was holding a flashlight that didn't work. Another was wrapped in a trash bag like a raincoat. Two had their hands up, shouting something we couldn't hear. The fifth was just standing there, staring into the one-way glass — like they sensed what was behind it.
"Randoms," Jules muttered from beside me, arms crossed. "The blackout's drawing them in."
"How'd they find us?"
"We're the only building with working insulation and no blown-out windows for six blocks," she said. "They might not see the lights… but they can tell this place is warm. Dry. Alive."
I leaned in closer to the feed.
They didn't look like raiders. Not yet. They looked like people. Cold. Wet. Panicked. One of them had a kid — maybe seven, maybe nine — pressed against their hip, trying not to cry.
And still, I didn't open the intercom.
"What do we do?" Jessi asked behind me, her voice tight.
"Nothing," Jules answered. "We wait."
"We can't just—"
A BANG cut her off. One of the men outside had picked up a chunk of concrete and hurled it at the door. It bounced off harmlessly, but the sound echoed like gunfire.
The child flinched. Another person started yelling. Then the pounding began in earnest — fists, rocks, feet slamming into the steel-trimmed entry like it would eventually give if they just hit hard enough.
Boris arrived in the room just as the motion sensor alert chimed on Cam 2D.
"There's more," he said grimly. "East stairwell. Climbing. At least three others."
"They're circling," Jules said. "Like animals. Following heat signatures."
I locked eyes with her.
"It's starting, isn't it."
"This is the test," she said. "The soft press. If we crack now, word spreads. Then the real wolves come."
"And if we don't?"
"They starve," Jules said flatly. "Or they snap."
Another clang echoed through the feed. The sound of desperation scraping metal.
Jessi turned away, eyes shining. Boris didn't move. I just watched.
No one inside said it, but we all felt it.
This was what Rosie wanted.
Let the world do the breaking for her.
Let us wear our humanity thin, until we either cracked open the door—
Or locked it so tight we could never open it again.