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	<title>Wild Violet online literary magazine &#187; Russell H. Krauss</title>
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		<title>Power Failure</title>
		<link>http://www.wildviolet.net/2011/09/12/power-failure/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wildviolet.net/2011/09/12/power-failure/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 12 Sep 2011 20:44:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Russell H. Krauss]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[2011]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[summer]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wildviolet.net/?p=1512</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8220;So, where should we meet?&#8221; Dan Roberts asked over the telephone.&#160; &#8220;It&#8217;s supposed to be a public place the first time, although that seems silly.&#160; We&#8217;ve been e-mailing, talking on the phone, instant messaging and trading photos for a month now.&#8221; Gloria Redmond laughed.&#160; &#8220;So we&#8217;ll follow protocol.&#160; How about the Dresden Mall?&#160; Seems about [&#8230;]]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><img class="aligncenter" src="http://www.wildviolet.net/aimages/passion/power_failure.jpg" alt="Power Failure graphic" /></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;So, where should we meet?&#8221; Dan Roberts asked over the telephone.&nbsp; &#8220;It&#8217;s supposed to be a public place the first time, although that seems silly.&nbsp; We&#8217;ve been e-mailing, talking on the phone, instant messaging and trading photos for a month now.&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Gloria Redmond laughed.&nbsp; &#8220;So we&#8217;ll follow protocol.&nbsp; How about the Dresden Mall?&nbsp; Seems about midway between us.&nbsp; Do you know Ye Olde Coffee Shoppe?&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;On the lower level?&nbsp; North end?&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;That&#8217;s the one,&#8221; Gloria replied.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Sure, how about seven this evening?&nbsp; Gives us time to get ready.&nbsp; I&#8217;ll get there a few minutes early, wait outside the coffee shop.&#8221;&nbsp; Finally, they were going to meet.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Fine.&nbsp; See you in a while, then, okay, Dan?&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;You bet.&nbsp; Bye now.&#8221;&nbsp; He waited for Gloria to respond before hanging up.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Dan?&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Yeah.&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Are you excited?&nbsp; I mean, my heart is doing flip-flops.&nbsp; I can&#8217;t wait.&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">&#8220;Me neither.&nbsp; I feel like a kid at Christmas.&#8221;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Dan Roberts felt the butterflies in his stomach as he turned into the Dresden Mall parking lot and drove toward the north end.&nbsp; Then all the lights went out, and the huge building went dark, projecting a massive, ominous silhouette against the nighttime sky.&nbsp; &#8220;Damn,&#8221; Dan said.&nbsp; &#8220;Of all the luck.&nbsp; A power failure.&#8221;&nbsp; He pulled into a vacant parking space and got out of his car.&nbsp; Unrelenting darkness met his eyes from every direction.</p>
<p>Then a cluster of lights surrounding the mall blinked on.&nbsp; Emergency lights, he thought.&nbsp; Maybe it would work out after all.&nbsp; He walked through the parking lot to the entrance, where a uniformed security guard accosted him.</p>
<p>&#8220;Power failure, sir.&nbsp; Everyone has to leave by eight o&#8217;clock, when the emergency generators will be shut down.&nbsp; No one can come inside now.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m picking someone up,&#8221; Dan improvised.&nbsp; &#8220;She&#8217;s waiting for me inside.&#8221;</p>
<p>The guard frowned.&nbsp; &#8220;All right.&nbsp; But out by eight.&nbsp; No exceptions.&nbsp; You don&#8217;t want to be locked in all night.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; Dan said, stepping aside, then striding briskly through the glass doors into the main concourse.&nbsp; He was surprised to see so many shoppers taking their time, browsing in the dimly lit stores, chatting and strolling through the atrium.&nbsp; Eerie, he thought.&nbsp; Like ghosts, parading through a cemetery under a full moon.</p>
<p>&nbsp;He spotted the coffee shop and a woman standing outside of it, alone, evidently waiting for someone.&nbsp; Gloria, he thought at first, but as he drew closer he realized it wasn&#8217;t she, but perhaps the most peculiar looking woman he&#8217;d ever seen.&nbsp; Squat, not four feet tall, dressed in a gray sweat suit, short arms and legs, gray hair fixed in corn rows and a face with eyes too close together.&nbsp; Her mouth was set at the very bottom of her chin.&nbsp; Her face was squashed, as if pressed against a window.</p>
<p>He planted himself a dozen feet from the woman to wait for Gloria.&nbsp; But would they let her in?&nbsp; Should he wait outside?</p>
<p>&#8220;Stood up?&#8221; the woman asked in a squeaky voice.</p>
<p>Dan jumped.&nbsp; He hadn&#8217;t noticed her sidling his way.&nbsp; She stood right in front of him, peering at his belt, lower lip protruding beneath her chin.</p>
<p>&#8220;Uh, no, I&#8217;m, that is, I&#8217;m early,&#8221;&nbsp; he stammered.&nbsp; He checked his watch.&nbsp; Seven-thirty?&nbsp; How could that be?&nbsp; He shook his head in confusion.&nbsp; &#8220;I thought it was seven,&#8221; he told the woman.</p>
<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the power failure,&#8221; she replied.&nbsp; &#8220;The clocks stopped.&nbsp; That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m late, too.&nbsp; I&#8217;m supposed to meet someone here.&#8221;</p>
<p>What?&nbsp; What sense did that make?&nbsp; He didn&#8217;t answer her.</p>
<p>&#8220;Maybe they&#8217;re inside, waiting for us,&#8221; the woman suggested.&nbsp; &#8220;Shall we go in?&nbsp; My name is Hazel Finley.&#8221;</p>
<p>Somehow, he was late.&nbsp; Then Gloria must already be here.&nbsp; &#8220;Sure,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Let&#8217;s go inside.&nbsp; I&#8217;m Dan Roberts.&#8221; He shook hands loosely with Hazel, and felt her short, stubby fingers tickling his palm.</p>
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