After five years, the droning message emerging from the loudspeakers spread throughout the town had become nothing more than a back beat for the lives of the townfolk. “Support the war. The enemy is evil. Work for the good of the nation. Obey your leaders.” The words changed but the message stayed the same. A message that enveloped Edmond, reassuring in its familiarity, as he slowly drifted awake. I wonder what woke me?

“Eddy, it might be Saturday but that doesn’t mean you can sleep all day,” his mother’s voice blared from below. Ah, yes, that would be it.

Slipping from the covers, he winced as his feet hit the chilly tiles where his slippers were supposed to be. With a muttered curse on all bratty sisters who didn’t properly respect their older—and wiser—brothers, he hopped back onto the bed and sent one arm questing beneath for his errant footwear.

“Eddy, get up!”

It’s not Eddy, Mom, it’s Edmond, he said for the hundredth time—in his mind, at least. At sixteen years old, one could reasonably expect not to be called by such a childish nickname, or so his friends told him.

His legs worked as he took the stairs two at a time, taking the last four in one giant leap.

“Good, you’re up. I need you to—”

“Can’t talk now, meeting Ian at the square.” Careful not to make eye contact, Edmond grabbed his shoes and coat and rushed out the door. Outside, the droning was louder but Edmond ignored it without a thought. Ian’s house was two doors down and they better get their stories straight, just in case.

* * *
“It can’t be done.” Ian’s voice broke on the last word, shifting high and then low.

“Sure it can,” said Edmond as he nodded to James, waiting for them at the fountain in the center of the town square. “My dad showed me the blueprints. All you have to do is cross a couple of wires.”

“What can’t be done?” asked James, having overheard the exchange.

“Edmond says he can rig the warning system to shut off without anyone figuring out it was him.”

“Do it! Dooooo it!” said James. “It’d be ultimate.”

“Wait a minute, I’m just saying it can be done, not that I’d do it,” said Edmond with his hands raised.

“Come on, don’t wimp out on us now.”

“You can set it up for the festival tomorrow,” broke in Ian. “It’ll rock.”

* * *
The warning broadcast system didn’t require much in the way of maintenance. Judging by the amount of dust, no one had been here in years. Edmond wiped his hands on his jeans and peered around the room, the light from the open window behind him leaving streaks in the air. With the blueprints in mind, he hoisted his knapsack to his shoulder and moved through the room, looking for the power relay.

On his second circuit, he recognized the power symbol beneath the layers of grime covering a large metal cube in the corner. A few twists of a screwdriver and Edmond was staring at a jumble of wires and breakers that only vaguely resembled the diagram he had seen.

Thinking of the crap his friends would give him if he left now, he began to painstakingly trace the circuits. After ten minutes—the tension ratcheting higher with each one—he had the two circuits he needed.

Working quickly, he stripped the insulation off with his teeth. From his knapsack he pulled a dead rat—found in a trap in his attic. No reason to get in trouble for a simple prank. A few twists of hair against the transformer as a time delay fuse and everything was ready. The rat would fall on the wires and short the system, shutting everything down until the backup kicked in.

A moment to replace the cover and a few more to smooth out the dust and he was back out the window, home free.

* * *
The square was filled from edge to fountain with booths, bands, and babies, all entertaining the milling crowd. Edmond glanced at his watch as he pushed his way toward the fountain and his friends. Any time now, he thought, just before the speakers went dead.

For a moment, no one seemed to notice. Then the first conversation stopped. And then another. Soon the entire square was silent, all eyes looking to the speakers hanging overhead. No one moved. They didn’t even seem to breathe. Like robots without orders.

A baby began to cry, afraid of the silence it had never known. The sound caused a wave of motion as heads turned. But no one moved, not even the baby’s mother.

The baby’s cries grew more strident as the seconds ticked by, the growing panic on the faces of the citizens mirroring it’s distress.

“—our troops. Buy war bonds.” The backup power had switched on. The sound filled the square along with an explosion of relieved smiles.

Pushing his way back through the crowd, Edmond ignored his friends, their faces glowing with excitement. He no longer felt like celebrating.

Random seed phrase: dronish warner