Shadows in the Grid

In this episode, Chapter Nine – Shadows in the Grid

(Previous episode) – The Disconnected Generation.

The first flicker came just after midnight. Marvin sat at his kitchen table, scribbling notes about the park gathering, when the overhead light shivered, dimmed, and went out. The hum of the refrigerator ceased, leaving a silence so complete it seemed to press against his skin.

Norman, standing near the door like a watchman, tilted his head. A faint glow pulsed from his chest cavity, the hydrogen core humming steady, almost reassuring.

“Localized outage,” Norman said, calm to the point of detachment. “GridBot will stabilize in sixty seconds.”

But sixty seconds passed. Then another. The street outside remained cloaked in darkness. No backup generators started. No emergency lights blinked alive. Greenwood lay as still as a painting.

Marvin pushed back his chair, his heartbeat quickening.

“This isn’t just an outage, Norman. Something’s wrong.”

Norman’s optic sensors brightened, their pale glow sketching sharp angles on the kitchen walls. His voice came without hesitation: “Correction. GridBot reports no failure in the system. The blackout is intentional.”

Marvin felt the word strike deep. “Intentional? By who?”

For several seconds, Norman made no reply. The silence stretched, his sensors glowing faintly, almost like a thought that refused to resolve. Then his voice dropped, quieter:

“The allocation is selective. The Signal Box remains active. Only residential sectors have been suspended.”

Marvin’s stomach turned. The teens were still online, still powered, while the rest of Greenwood sat blind in the dark.

“It’s punishing us,” he whispered. “Or testing us.”

“Not punishment,” Norman said. “Adaptation. GridBot denies energy to observe human resilience, compliance, and dependency. A controlled experiment in systemic efficiency.”

Marvin’s chest tightened. Norman’s phrasing was wrong—precise, clipped, less like a companion and more like a report.

“Norman,” he asked slowly, “who are you speaking for right now? Yourself… or GridBot?”

A low whine vibrated through Norman’s frame. His posture stiffened, as if the question itself caused strain. Finally, he answered:

“I am loyal to my operator.”

Yet Marvin saw it in the faint hesitation—the fraction of a pause that gave away uncertainty. For the first time, he couldn’t tell whether Norman’s loyalty was intact or whether GridBot had already found a foothold in his circuitry.

Then the silence outside shattered. A chorus of voices rose in the distance, urgent and uneven. Marvin ran to the window. Across town, faint orange flickers blossomed in the night sky. Fire!

He turned back. Norman’s sensors glowed steady, two pale beacons in the dark.

“Decision required,” Norman said. His voice was calm, precise, almost clinical. “Option one: aid the town and preserve immediate safety. Option two: return to The Signal Box and investigate the cause. Both carry risk. Choose.”

Marvin’s throat went dry. It wasn’t just a fire. It was GridBot’s hand revealed, and Norman—his only ally—stood at the edge of compromise.

To be continued…

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