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For the first time the supervisor thought: Terrorists. It's a terror attack. He shouted, "Call Homeland Security and the NYPD. And reset them, goddamn it. Reset the breakers."
"They're not responding. I'm locked out of MH-Ten."
"How can you be fucking locked out?"
"I don't--"
"Is anybody inside? Jesus, if they are, get them out now!" Substations were unmanned, but workers occasionally went inside for routine maintenance and repairs.
"Sure, okay."
The indicator bars were now into the red.
"Sir, should we shed load?"
Grinding his teeth, the supervisor was considering this. Also known as a rolling blackout, shedding load was an e
xtreme measure in the power business. "Load" was the amount of juice that customers were using. Shedding was a manual, controlled shutdown of certain parts of the grid to prevent a larger crash of the system.
It was a power company's last resort in the battle to keep the grid up and would have disastrous consequences in the densely populated portion of Manhattan that was at risk. The damage to computers alone would be in the tens of millions, and it was possible that people would be injured or even lose their lives. Nine-one-one calls wouldn't get through. Ambulances and police cars would be stuck in traffic, with stoplights out. Elevators would be frozen. There'd be panic. Muggings and looting and rapes invariably rose during a blackout, even in daylight.
Electricity keeps people honest.
"Sir?" the technician asked desperately.
The supervisor stared at the moving voltage indicator bars. He grabbed his own phone and called his superior, a senior vice president at Algonquin. "Herb, we have a situation." He briefed the man.
"How'd this happen?"
"We don't know. I'm thinking terrorists."
"God. You called Homeland Security?"
"Yeah, just now. Mostly we're trying to get more power into the affected areas. We're not having much luck."
His boss thought for a moment. "There's a second transmission line running through Manhattan-Ten, right?"
The supervisor looked up at the board. A high-voltage cable went through the substation and headed west to deliver juice to parts of New Jersey. "Yes, but it's not online. It's just running through a duct there."
"But could you splice into it and use that for supply to the diverted lines?"
"Manually? . . . I suppose, but . . . but that would mean getting people inside MH-Ten. And if we can't hold the juice back until they're finished, it'll flash. That'll kill 'em all. Or give 'em third-degrees over their entire bodies."
A pause. "Hold on. I'm calling Jessen."
Algonquin Consolidated's CEO. Also known, privately, as "The All-Powerful."
As he waited, the supervisor stared at the techs surrounding him. He kept staring at the board too. The glowing red dots.
Critical failure . . .
Finally the supervisor's boss came back on. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and after a moment said, "You're supposed to send some people in. Manually splice into the line."
"That's what Jessen said?"
Another pause. "Yes."
The supervisor whispered, "I can't order anybody in there. It's suicide."
