Scott Williams: The Pulse

“It’s sort of like coming in here after a hurricane, but with the harbor full of boats and without all the buzz of activity that would already be going on from the cleanup,” Larry said as they sailed into the anchorage. Artie could see hundreds of moored yachts filling the natural harbor. There were sailing vessels of all descriptions and sizes, from traditional-looking schooners like Ibis to weird, spaceship-like catamarans and trimarans, as well as motor-yachts that looked like floating palaces. Larry expertly piloted the schooner through the maze of boats until he spotted the numbered float that marked the mooring that Ibis ’s owner had rented in advance. Artie took the boat hook forward to the bow, and following Larry’s instructions, snagged the mooring line and slipped it over one of the bow cleats just as Larry eased all the sheets and then quickly sprang into action to release the halyards and drop the sails to the deck. The passage was over. Ibis was secured solidly to the heavy mooring at the bottom of the harbor, and Artie breathed a sigh of relief as she swung downwind and settled down for the first time since they’d sailed out of the harbor at Martinique. He looked at the surrounding green hills dotted with houses, hotels, restaurants, and shops that reflected the morning sun from their shiny windows and created an illusion that everything was normal and as it should be. He looked forward to stepping onto the solidity of that dry land and its promise of shelter, momentarily forgetting the incomprehensible events that had completely altered his reality during his first ocean voyage.

CASEY DRAGER PULLED the covers over her face and rolled over, annoyed that her dream was interrupted by bright sunlight filtering through the thin curtains hanging in her window. She couldn’t return to that place though, as much as she wanted to, and slowly she became conscious that it was only a dream. She threw the covers off and sat up with a start. The sun wasn’t supposed to be up! Jessica was supposed to call her at 6:00 a.m. so she would have time to study for an hour before she showered, ate breakfast, and headed for her eight o’clock class. The way the light was filling her bedroom, it had to be eight already. She grabbed her iPhone off the table by her bed to make sure she hadn’t silenced the ringer volume by mistake. She couldn’t believe Jessica would let her down, because she had to get up early today too. She was mad at herself more than she was at her roommate, though. She knew Jessica wasn’t coming in last night and she should have set the alarm on the phone as a backup.

The phone lit up, and the digital clock on the screen read 8:07 a.m. Oddly, there was a blinking message at the top corner of the screen that indicated the phone was not connected to the network. This had never happened since she got the new iPhone a year ago, and it certainly shouldn’t happen in a city the size of New Orleans. It brought back bad memories of the lousy service she had had with her first cell phone back in junior high. So that was the reason Jessica hadn’t reached her. She had probably tried but couldn’t get through.

Casey didn’t have time to beat herself up for not setting her own alarm, though. She rushed into the bathroom to hurriedly work on her hair and makeup. There would be no time to shower or eat today. She stepped out for a second to turn on the TV so she could hear it while she got ready. The screen lit, but all that it showed was a blue background and an error message. The sound coming from the speakers was white noise. She grabbed the remote and flipped through several channels. They were all the same. Weird , she thought to herself. No cell service, no TV. WTF? There was no more time to give it much thought now, though. It would be working again any time, of that she was certain. Right now, all that mattered was getting to class.

Casey supposed Jessica’s phone could be off the air too. She had an Android phone on a different network, so it seemed unlikely, but it was also unlikely that the cable TV would be out at the same time too. Jessica had spent the night with her boyfriend, and Casey wondered if they could have overslept too. She would find out when they met at lunch. She slipped the closed MacBook that was lying on her table into her small backpack that doubled as a book bag and purse, slung it over one shoulder, grabbed her key ring, and rushed out the door. Her bike was cable-locked to the wrought-iron balcony rail of the second-floor apartment that made up half of the small wood-frame house fronting Webster Street. She opened the combination lock, quickly carried the bike down to the sidewalk, and pedaled off. It was just a short three-quarter-mile ride to the Tulane University campus, and the bicycle was the only sane way to go with the parking situation being what it was.

As she turned onto St. Charles Avenue, Casey was surprised to see large numbers of cars stopped everywhere in both lanes of the broad, live-oak-shaded boulevard. There was no moving traffic besides other students on bicycles, and some drivers were opening their doors and getting out. She narrowly missed wiping out when a man in a large SUV opened his door right in front of her. Why all these vehicles had stopped in the street was beyond her, but it was not her concern either, late as she was. It was already vexing enough that her phone service was out. She steered onto the broad sidewalk away from the cars, weaving among pedestrians as fast as she dared until she reached the main campus entrance from St. Charles and hung a quick right into the breezeway to the bike racks in front of Dinwiddie Hall.

She locked the bike in an empty slot and made for the front doors, pushing her way through a cluster of students on the steps. Once inside, she was surprised at how dark it was, and she realized that all the overhead lights in the hallway were off. More people were milling about outside several open classroom doors.

“What’s going on? Why are the lights out?” Casey asked the first student whose eyes met hers.

“We were wondering that too,” the girl said. “They just went out all at once, like they were switched off.”

“When?” Casey asked. “I had power at my apartment over on Webster Street when I left just fifteen minutes ago.”

“It was, like, less than five minutes ago. That’s why everyone left class. The windows in this building suck. It’s too dark to do anything without the lights. I think most of the classes in here were dismissed.”

“I wonder if this has anything to do with my phone not working? When I got up this morning my phone had no signal, and it still doesn’t. My TV was just static too.”

“Tell me about it! Everyone I’ve talked to this morning said the same thing about their phone. Everybody’s phone quit working right after that freaky light show last night.”

“Light show?”

“I didn’t see it, but everybody who did is talking about it. The whole sky lit up like daylight at about two o’clock in the morning. They said it was awesome, like all kinds of colors and flashes—lasted nearly a minute. After that, all the phones went out.”

“That’s freaky! What was it?”

“People are sayin’ it was something like the Aurora Borealis, you know, the Northern Lights. They say it messed up electronic signals somehow.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to see that from New Orleans,” Casey said.

“I don’t know. All the geeks and Star Wars nerds are talking about it. I heard some of them this morning. They’re all excited about it, saying it was caused by the sun or something from outer space.”

“Great. So when exactly can we expect AT&T and all the rest of the cell companies to get their signals fixed? There’s no telling how many texts I’ve missed this morning. And now the power is out in Dinwiddie Hall. Or do you think it’s all over campus?”