When the Sky Took Over

It was on the night of March 31, 2025, just like any other. It was a quiet evening in a coastal town. Mark Ellis was a grease-stained 42-year-old mechanic with a passion for old radios. In his garage, he was fine-tuning a radio. On the corner, his teenage daughter Ellie sat; she was reclining on the ground, playing on her phone with her earbuds pumping music. It was the same old refrigerator hummy quiet outside combined with the dim light of streetlights reflecting off the street. But then at 8:47 p.m., utter silence—lights flickered off, the screens of every electrical device bid adieu, and a deathly stillness fell. Mark flipped the switch on the garagelight; nothing.

He went out, assuming it was a blown fuse, but dark as far as he could see in either direction down the street. Not one porch light, no glows from TV screens, only black shadows creeping off into the distance. His phone was as useless as his hammer with no signal and no Wi-Fi. "Ellie, take the flashlight," he ordered, his tone a little tight. Something was wrong; this was not some regional disturbance. Cosmic Outlaw

At 9:30 p.m., bits of news crackled through on his ancient ham radio from another era, relayed to him by Mark from his father.

A solar storm-the type researchers had been abuzz about for months-was said to have struck Earth that day, its charged particles cooking power grids and quieting networks worldwide. The timing was just strange; as from the Fram2 SpaceX mission, a polar orbit was fired a few minutes into visibility over Earth's icy caps while turmoil seethed below. NASA would later rank this among Solar Cycle 25's strongest flares within one of the solar tantrums' peak years. For Mark? Not science fiction, but an unexplainable night. He'd spent his whole life in repairs-cars, appliances-whatever had parts he could get his hands on. But this? This was out of his set of tools. All the equipment in the garage looked useless, and the tools were useless because there was no power. Ellie stepped into sight carrying the flashlight; all the signs of her typical teenage personality softening considerably with wide-eyed wonder. "Dad, what's happening?" she asked. Mark shrugged. "The sun's having a bad day, kid." Stars and Darkness

Hours passed with each moment slowing agonizingly. Neighbors made their way slowly outside, voices carried on the still air-some in a daze, others cursing. A elderly woman from across the street, Mrs. Harper, made her way over, lantern clutched. "This brings back the '89 powers," she wheezed. "We managed just fine without this stuff back then." Mark nodded, half-smiled, lost in thought. How long would this last?

Ellie, completely bored without the phone, received the pitch to climb to the top of the garage roof.

At his OH, "Look up," she went up, and so did he.

It was incredible-velvet rich dark with stars, or sharper, brighter than he ever had seen. Now there was none of the yellowish light of the city to mellow them. Whoa," Ellie whispered through the curling out breath. "It's like the universe turned on." A shiver went through him-when had they last stopped long enough to look? There the father and daughter sat that night, the tie created in silence. Up in the ether over them, those flashes of pale green light on the horizon were, most likely, members and members of the aurora-the dead of the storm. Below, the town lay, pretending nothing had occurred-lanterns burning, voices intermingling, strange calm descending.

The Light Returns, The Lessons Remain

At dawn, power started to awaken from the grid with groans. Phones started chirping with life.