Massive Disaster 4-21 Outline (Patreon)

We follow Elias Monroe, Chief Engineer of the New Abraham Central Energy Hub, through what begins as a quiet, ordinary day. He’s old—late 60s, maybe early 70s. Dark skin, slight limp from an old injury, heavy hands from a life of manual work. Still sharp. Still shows up earlier than everyone. Wakes at 5:15 like always. Brushing his teeth in a larger apartment in one of the older districts in New Abraham, the first of the non-prefabs made over a decade back. His unit still uses copper pipes and manual locks, and he likes it that way. He talks to himself while shaving. Tells the photograph of his wife—framed next to his sink—that she wouldn’t like the haircut he’s thinking of getting. Kisses his fingers, presses them to her cheek in the photo, and mutters: “Gonna be a hot one, baby. Better wear the good boots.”He puts on the V-Jump boots he got special from the "smart one", Zedd's birthday gift from two years ago coming in really handy. While he didn't need it to jump, these things did auto-adjust for his body and movement, making his slight limp practically nonexistent.

By 6:10, he’s walking to the bus. Doesn’t drive. Never has. Says you see more people when you don’t speed past them. Passes a group of younger engineers on their way to work—nods to them, gets a few respectful “Morning, Chief” in return. One of them jokes about rerouting coolant flow and Elias just gives him the old side-eye and says “Not before I’ve had coffee, fool.” The kind of exchange that comes with years of mutual respect. Nothing performative.

At the Hub by 6:45. Security lets him through with a simple wave. He’s been here a decade and a half, the first wave back when the colony was just an outpost by Alliance standards He starts the day by reviewing energy load demands. And they’re higher than ever. Arkadia IV’s population has tripled in three years, and Zedd—that kid—is half the reason why. Victory Innovations exploded. Not just tech, but power draw, data centers, auxiliary grids, cooling demands. And yet, Elias’s whole system is more stable than before, using even less power than before.

He doesn’t resent Zedd. He misses him. “That damn boy,” he mutters with a smile while rebalancing a power node. “Smarter than all of ‘em and twice as reckless.” He remembers the early days. Zedd fixing junctions by hand. Sleeping under his desk. Getting electrocuted twice in one week and calling it “learning.” Elias had to kick him out of the grid floor more than once. Still proud of him. Still wonders why he never visits anymore. Last time they spoke was over comms—Zedd asking for clearance to install his own fusion auxiliary lines. Never even stopped by in person.

Mid-day, Elias is walking the sub-reactor conduits when a younger tech asks how he keeps track of all the wiring without AR overlays. Elias just taps his temple and says, “Because I remember.” He walks past a diagnostic array, slows, frowns—something pings weird. Tiny. A power fluctuation that doesn’t match the rest of the system's rhythm. He marks it for later. Trusts his gut more than the software.

The rest of the day continues with minor hiccups. A faulty turbine relay. A delay in coolant recycling. One technician’s AI gets stuck in a loop and tries to reset a safe zone without permission. Elias fixes it without even calling support. Lunch is a sandwich eaten while walking a pipe line. The rest of the crew offers to cover for him so he can rest. He laughs and says, “When I’m dead.”

By early evening, the Hub quiets. Night shift’s taking over. Elias doesn't clock out. He never clocks out until he does his rounds. Final inspection. Walks the core alone. One last circuit before bed. Checks every gauge, every hiss of steam, every flicker of readout. It’s a ritual by now. Quiet, solemn. Sacred.

And then he hears it.

Footsteps. Down where no one should be. Past the maintenance hallway. Heading toward the primary reactor access. Elias frowns. No one logs in without his knowing. No schedule. No work order.

He follows.

It’s dim—power-saving mode kicks in at 9 PM. The lights flicker blue-white, casting long shadows through the pipe scaffolds. He moves slowly, carefully. His knee’s acting up again. He leans against a railing, peering ahead.

A figure up ahead. Moving with intent. Doesn’t see Elias yet.

The figure reaches the emergency shutoff console—the one that can kill the entire Hub’s output. City-wide blackout level. Catastrophic.

Elias doesn’t hesitate.

“Hey!” he calls out, voice firm. “That’s restricted. You authorized for this?”

The figure freezes.

Elias steps forward. “You hear me? What the hell you doing with that panel?”

No answer.

Elias picks up his pace. His hand tightens into a fist. “Turn around, dammit.”

He gets closer. Five meters. Three.

Then—a hand lands on his shoulder.

Not the figure at the panel. Someone else.

He turns around, already unsettled.

And his eyes widen.

He barely has time to breathe the word: “...oh.”

A flash.A sound like thunder.And Elias Monroe falls.