The Year Without Sunshine — with Tamil woven in

During one of the much smaller disasters அதுadhu · it/that preceded the really big disaster, நான்naan · I met a lot of என்னோடennoda · my neighbors online. நான்naan · I can’t remember if நம்மnamma · we set up the WhatsApp group because of the pandemic or the civil disorder or both. My Minneapolis block had always been reasonably friendly—people would take their kids around on Halloween, and நான்naan · I knew the names of என்னோடennoda · my next-door neighbors—but everyone on the WhatsApp group got closer.

When the Internet and cell phones went down, என்னோடennoda · my next-door neighbor to the north, Tanesha, built a little booth in her yard out of plywood, with corkboard inside and a roof, and painted WHATSUP on the outside, so people could leave each other messages inside. When நான்naan · I went in the first day to check அதுadhu · it/that out, people were already posting up notes asking to swap stuff—coffee for condoms, cat food for diapers, a bike repair for a plumbing repair. The stores were empty but maybe someone on the block had what நீnee · you needed.

It was weird, early on, what was still chugging away. The water stayed on, although நம்மnamma · we had to purify அதுadhu · it/that. The stores nearly always had canned vegetables on the shelves, and everyone joked about how somewhere, there was a secret underground warehouse crammed with canned peas. The pharmacy a few blocks away was still getting regular deliveries of anything designated “critical meds,” like insulin, which was a relief to Tanesha. But there were also things அதுadhu · it/that worked some of the time but இல்லilla · not/no all of the time, like the electricity. And there were all these things அதுadhu · it/that were just gone from the stores—tampons, AAA batteries, WD-40, duct tape.

நான்naan · I started going over every day around noon to help Tanesha “moderate” the booth, which mostly meant taking down obsolete notes. After two weeks when the Internet still hadn’t come back, நான்naan · I helped her build a second booth.

“We should check on people, don’t நீnee · you think?” அவava · she said as நான்naan · I held a board in place for her to hammer. “Most of the block is using this, but இல்லilla · not/no everyone.”

நான்naan · I hadn’t noticed, but அவava · she was probably right. Across the street, the screen door banged shut and the old guy who lived there came brusquely across the street. He was holding something அதுadhu · it/that looked sort of like a power drill. “நான்naan · I’m Lem,” அவன்avan · he told என்னைennai · me. “Hold அதுadhu · it/that board நீnee · you’ve got right there.” Tanesha put down her hammer and the power drill thing turned out to be a nail gun, which made short work of the hammering. “Also, நீnee · you want என்னைennai · me to fix the roof on அதுadhu · it/that other one, so அதுadhu · it/that doesn’t drip inside when அதுadhu · it/that rains.” He didn’t put a question mark on the end, which was fine, because of course நம்மnamma · we wanted him to fix the roof.

While அவன்avan · he worked on இதுidhu · this, Tanesha got a clipboard from her house and நம்மnamma · we made a list of the houses on the block, filling in what நம்மnamma · we knew about the residents. It was a smattering of names and a lot of phrases like “the people with the poodle” and “the ones with the generator” and “the teenager with the really loud car, although அவன்avan · he hasn’t driven அதுadhu · it/that since the gas stations all closed.”

“Should நம்மnamma · we split up the houses?” Tanesha said. “You do the east side, நான்naan · I’ll do the west side?”

“Okay,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, feeling the same dragging reluctance நான்naan · I’d felt as a kid selling Girl Scout Cookies—நான்naan · I knew perfectly well lots of people would be happy to see என்னைennai · me, but நான்naan · I still hated knocking on doors and talking to strangers. நான்naan · I didn’t have a clipboard, so I grabbed a notebook from என்னோடennoda · my house to make notes and walked down to the corner to start.

Probably three-quarters of the people on our block were already using Tanesha’s booth. With the remaining quarter, நான்naan · I introduced myself, told them which house நான்naan · I lived in, explained the booth, and then asked how அவங்கavanga · they were doing. Hanging in there? Did அவங்கavanga · they have food and other necessities?

The people with the generator were at mid-block. They lived in a bungalow with faded olive-green siding and a fence. Most of us didn’t have generators—நம்மnamma · we just charged up what நம்மnamma · we could during hours நம்மnamma · we had power, made do when நம்மnamma · we didn’t. This house’s generator ran during every power outage, even the short ones.

When நான்naan · I knocked, இல்லilla · not/no one answered right away, but I knocked again and waited, and an old white guy answered the door. “I’m Alexis, from down the street,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “I’m just checking in with everyone to see if அவங்கavanga · they’re okay, given everything, and to let நீnee · you know about இதுidhu · this booth நம்மnamma · we’ve got set up…” He stared at என்னைennai · me, silently, as I explained the WhatsUp booth.

“Does anyone have propane?” அவன்avan · he asked.

“நான்naan · I don’t know. Someone might.”

“நான்naan · I’ll trade anything. Pay anything. You said I should post a sign? Can நீnee · you post அதுadhu · it/that for me? I can’t leave Susan.”

“நான்naan · I could post a sign for you, sure.”

“Can நீnee · you wait—இல்லilla · not/no, just come in.” He shuffled backwards to let என்னைennai · me in the house. நான்naan · I eased the door closed behind என்னைennai · me. The entryway had the close, stale air of a house அதுadhu · it/that had taken seriously the instructions to close all the windows to keep out the dust and ash. “நான்naan · I need to find paper and a pen.”

“Clifford?” நான்naan · I heard a woman call. “Is someone here? Who is it?”

நான்naan · I followed him into the living room. An elderly woman sat in a recliner. A plastic tube snaked across her face, with prongs in her nose. She didn’t look well. “This is Alexis,” Clifford told her. “She’s going to tell people நம்மnamma · we need fuel.”

“நான்naan · I don’t know if anyone has it,” I said.

“Oxygen, நான்naan · I can also use bottled oxygen,” Susan said.

“People keep propane around. Nobody keeps bottled oxygen around,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“Have you tried the pharmacy for oxygen?” நான்naan · I asked. “They have insulin…”

“Pharmacies don’t carry oxygen,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “There are places அதுadhu · it/that carry அதுadhu · it/that but நம்மnamma · we used to get அதுadhu · it/that delivered—நான்naan · I don’t even have the phone number—நான்naan · I can’t leave Susan and go around the city looking, even if நான்naan · I had a way to get around, அவava · she can’t get the generator going herself.” He pointed at a blue plastic gadget அதுadhu · it/that sat next to her, which rattled like a noisy fan. “Susan has COPD. What நம்மnamma · we used to call emphysema. She needs supplemental oxygen, so நம்மnamma · we run an oxygen concentrator. Turns room air into pure oxygen. Concentrator won’t run without power, so நான்naan · I fire up the generator every time the power goes out. But நம்மnamma · we’re running out of propane. Don’t know what நம்மnamma · we’re going to do when we run out of propane.” He patted Susan’s hand.

“What if we could find you a rechargeable battery?” நான்naan · I asked.

“Problem is, the oxygen concentrator draws too much power,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Drains batteries too fast.”

நான்naan · I crouched down for a closer look, pulling out a flashlight since the room was dim. The concentrator drew less wattage than an air conditioner, but more than a TV. “The only thing அதுadhu · it/that’s gotten us இதுidhu · this far,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, “is அதுadhu · it/that நான்naan · I bought the smallest generator அவங்கavanga · they had. It doesn’t run our fridge or anything. It just runs the oxygen concentrator, and நம்மnamma · we only run அதுadhu · it/that when the power’s out. But even so, நம்மnamma · we’re going to be out of fuel…நான்naan · I don’t know exactly how soon. But soon.”

“What happens then?”

“நான்naan · I won’t live long after that,” Susan said.

There was a shrill whistle of the carbon monoxide detector as the power came back, and the lights, air conditioner, and TV all came on simultaneously. “நான்naan · I’m going to shut down the generator,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and sprinted out the door.

“Could நீnee · you be a dear and move over the plug,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said to me, pointing at the concentrator.

“Move it where?” நான்naan · I asked, confused.

“Just the plug, to the wall outlet.”

The oxygen concentrator cut off—Clifford must have gotten outside to the generator—and almost immediately, Susan’s face turned grayish, and அவava · she started to gasp like அவava · she’d just sprinted four blocks to catch a bus. நான்naan · I looked around, panicked, for the wall outlet. She couldn’t even point என்னைennai · me, but நான்naan · I spotted அதுadhu · it/that and moved the plug over. Nothing happened. “Did நான்naan · I do அதுadhu · it/that right? Do நான்naan · I need to turn அதுadhu · it/that back on?” Susan managed a nod, and நான்naan · I started hunting around the machine for a button, terrified அதுadhu · it/that நான்naan · I would mess something up if நான்naan · I pressed the wrong thing. Clifford came hurrying back in just as I found the on-off switch. Which was a completely obvious switch அதுadhu · it/that I’d have found immediately if I hadn’t been panicking.

“Losing the supplemental oxygen isn’t supposed to matter right away,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, once அவava · she’d caught her breath. “It’s just நான்naan · I get so anxious.”

“நான்naan · I don’t believe நீnee · you’re just anxious,” Clifford said. We sat in silence for a moment. “Anyway,” he added. “You can see why நம்மnamma · we want propane.”

நான்naan · I could. I absolutely could. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, இல்லilla · not/no feeling very optimistic.

Susan’s color was back, and she’d more or less caught her breath. “If நீnee · you find anyone who has an oxygen concentrator அவங்கavanga · they aren’t using, நம்மnamma · we could use அதுadhu · it/that to fill oxygen tanks,” she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “When the power was on. Give us another backup. நான்naan · I know it’s இல்லilla · not/no very likely, but someone might have one in their attic.”

I nodded.

Susan swatted at Clifford gently with the magazine by her side—a ten-year-old copy of Smithsonian magazine—and சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, “Can நம்மnamma · we offer Alexis a cup of coffee இப்பippa · now அதுadhu · it/that the power’s back?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s no trouble,” Clifford said. “நான்naan · I’ll make a pot, நீnee · you can drink some of அதுadhu · it/that if you have a minute to stay.”

That trapped me, because நான்naan · I couldn’t let coffee go to waste, இல்லilla · not/no given how scarce அதுadhu · it/that was, so I sat down in a plush velour chair while Clifford knocked around in the இப்பippa · now-well-lit kitchen. “How long have நீnee · you lived in the neighborhood?” I asked.

“Oh, forty years, அதுadhu · it/that must be, at இதுidhu · this point. You don’t have kids, do நீnee · you?” நான்naan · I shook என்னோடennoda · my head. “Back, oh, early two thousands, நான்naan · I guess, நம்மnamma · we used to make a haunted house every Halloween and give full-sized candy bars to all the kids who made it to the end. You’d probably have been a kid yourself back then.”

“நான்naan · I grew up in Sacramento,” I said.

“All the way in California? Oh dear,” she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Have நீnee · you heard from your family since all this started?”

“No,” நான்naan · I said, “but we weren’t really in touch before, so அதுadhu · it/that’s not surprising.”

“Well, நான்naan · I’m certainly இல்லilla · not/no going to tell நீnee · you your business,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “I was awfully relieved to get a letter from our son down in Kansas, though. We’ve got a big roll of stamps if you need any.”

“நான்naan · I guess நான்naan · I’d take one. நான்naan · I could send them a note just letting them know I’m alive. Even though அதுadhu · it/that’s more likely to be a disappointment to them than a relief.”

“All the more reason to let them know,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Bring comfort to the kind and dismay to the jerks.”

Clifford brought out coffee in three little china teacups. There was a sugar bowl on the tray, but நான்naan · I took என்னோடennoda · my cup without adding any, as did Clifford and Susan. “Thank நீnee · you,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“நான்naan · I was just telling Alexis about our haunted house,” Susan said.

Clifford brightened up and started telling me about இதுidhu · this zip line அவன்avan · he’d rigged up for ghosts, and Susan told me அதுadhu · it/that in the backyard அவங்கavanga · they’d served hot cider out of a cauldron to parents. “நான்naan · I worked as a costumer at the Guthrie Theater for years,” she added. “So என்னோடennoda · my witch costume was first rate.”

நான்naan · I laid out my list of doors to knock. “Do நீnee · you know any of these people?”

About half the houses, அவங்கavanga · they சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said things like “அதுadhu · it/that’s where the Garcias used to live but they moved in, oh, must have been 2012…” but there was one house where Susan said, “oh, அதுadhu · it/that’s Jeana’s house, அவava · she’s been all alone since she lost her husband two years ago, can நீnee · you check on her, too?” நான்naan · I’d already planned to knock, but “hello, your friend Susan asked என்னைennai · me to check on நீnee · you” made it feel less weird.

My tiny cup of coffee was gone, so நான்naan · I set the cup carefully back down on the tray. “நான்naan · I’m going to go post the sign,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Thank நீnee · you for the coffee. Please let என்னைennai · me know if நீnee · you need anything. I’ll try to make sure someone comes by.”

நான்naan · I was wrong about இல்லilla · not/no one being willing to sell or trade propane. நான்naan · I netted four of those one-pound Coleman cylinders நீnee · you attach to a camping stove, plus two partly full 20-pound cylinders like நீnee · you’d use for a grill. Clifford cried when நான்naan · I knocked on his door with them—இதுidhu · this would, அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, keep them running for another 40 or 50 hours. The power was generally out for two to four hours a day, so அதுadhu · it/that meant another two weeks, probably, and I could watch Clifford do அதுadhu · it/that same calculation even as அவன்avan · he asked if there was anything people wanted in exchange.

“No, when people heard someone needed அதுadhu · it/that to live they said நான்naan · I could just have it,” I said.

“நான்naan · I’m இல்லilla · not/no so bad at fixing things,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “If anyone needs something fixed, someone would have to come sit with Susan in case the power went out, but…”

“நான்naan · I’ll let people know,” I said.

“Come in for a minute?” he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

நான்naan · I almost சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said இல்லilla · not/no but from the next room I could hear Susan’s voice call, “Clifford, நீnee · you’d better not let Alexis leave without a cup of coffee,” and I decided என்னோடennoda · my to-do list could stand for me to take five minutes to sit down.

“Clifford, நீnee · you can repair things?” நான்naan · I asked, pulling out my notebook. “Any things in particular?”

“Carpentry,” he said.

நான்naan · I wrote அதுadhu · it/that down. “We’re making a list of skills people have,” I said. “I don’t suppose either of நீnee · you grew up on farms.” They shook their heads.

“நான்naan · I can sew,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “I don’t imagine anyone’s going to want a fancy costume but அவங்கavanga · they might like a zipper replaced.”

“You can do zippers?” நான்naan · I said, and made a note. “Do நீnee · you need a sewing machine for that?”

“நான்naan · I have one. Clifford could bring it downstairs for me.”

Clifford brought out coffee for me and நான்naan · I sipped it.

“Clearly நான்naan · I should have joined Future Farmers of America, back in the day, instead of the theater club,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“We’ll manage,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “We’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to grow food in people’s yards. Lem suggested tearing up the street and growing food there, but அதுadhu · it/that got some pushback.”

“You won’t hear any complaining from us,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Whatever everyone else thinks is best.”

நான்naan · I told them Jeana was doing fine and had been very worried about Susan. She’d have come herself to check on Susan and Clifford but அவava · she’d broken her leg back before everything started and was still having trouble walking. Getting in and out of her house, which had four steps up to the front door, was difficult. Clifford brightened at அதுadhu · it/that. “நான்naan · I bet நான்naan · I could build her a ramp. It wouldn’t be up to code, but அதுadhu · it/that would let her get in and out with a walker. Do நீnee · you know if anyone has plywood?”

“Lem has sheets of அதுadhu · it/that,” நான்naan · I said. “I’ll go to his house next.”

The other blocks around us had seen what நம்மnamma · we were doing and were getting more organized with swap boards and so on. We’d started comparing community needs, especially ways to grow food. We wanted a tiller, and a cultivator, to turn sod into gardens, and இல்லilla · not/no one நம்மnamma · we’d found had a tiller. There was one cultivator, but அதுadhu · it/that was gas-powered.

“Maybe someone in the suburbs has an electric tiller அவங்கavanga · they’d trade,” Lem சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. We’d started tearing up yards with spades, and அதுadhu · it/that was slow going, although at least நம்மnamma · we weren’t putting buried utility lines at risk.

நான்naan · I offered to go. My car is electric, so நான்naan · I could get there. நான்naan · I’m white and look “respectable” unless I put on என்னோடennoda · my “eat the rich” t-shirt—paranoid suburbanites were unlikely to start by shooting at என்னைennai · me. (We’d heard stories. I sure didn’t want Tanesha taking the risk.) Once நம்மnamma · we started discussing இதுidhu · this seriously, Frank சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said அவன்avan · he’d come with என்னைennai · me; அவன்avan · he’s got the same “could be a suburbanite myself” vibe but he’s also huge. He worked as a bar bouncer when he was younger and நீnee · you can’t tell looking at him அதுadhu · it/that these days his back hurts all the time. I told Clifford இல்லilla · not/no to get his hopes too high, but to give me all his empty propane canisters, just in case நம்மnamma · we found a suburbanite with a stockpile அவங்கavanga · they were willing to sell.

We had a block meeting to assemble any last-minute requests. Gloria and Leah had donated four of the camping canisters and asked how Susan was doing.

“Depends on how the power holds up, but நம்மnamma · we think we probably got them another two weeks,” நான்naan · I said.

They exchanged looks. “If the sun was shining…” Gloria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

The dust and ash in the air meant அதுadhu · it/that அதுadhu · it/that was effectively always cloudy, and the solar panels on lots of our houses weren’t doing much. Not nothing—but இல்லilla · not/no much. We were எல்லாம்ellaam · all silent for a minute, because if the sun were shining, நம்மnamma · we wouldn’t be in இதுidhu · this disaster. We’d be planning summer fun, instead of trying to figure out whether if நம்மnamma · we tore எல்லாம்ellaam · all the grass out of our yards, நம்மnamma · we’d be able to grow enough food to get through next winter.

“What about a wind turbine?” நான்naan · I asked. Gloria and Leah had built themselves a windmill with a generator attached, although நான்naan · I wasn’t sure how well அதுadhu · it/that was working.

“It would only work when the wind was actually blowing,” Gloria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“That would be something,” நான்naan · I said. “If they could conserve fuel on the windy days, அதுadhu · it/that would last longer.”

“A big enough battery would work,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

நான்naan · I sighed. When நான்naan · I bought என்னோடennoda · my electric car a year ago, நான்naan · I’d also looked into getting solar panels and இதுidhu · this giant wall of batteries—நீnee · you could run the whole house off the batteries, recharging them on solar (normally), and almost go off-grid, at least அதுadhu · it/that’s என்னenna · what the reviews சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. But I’d looked at the cost and had made the perfectly sensible decision to save up for solar first, fancy battery wall second. I’d asked around already, and இல்லilla · not/no ஒண்ணுonnu · one else on the block had a big battery wall, either.

“நான்naan · I know of two people in the area, plus என்னைennai · me, who have electric cars,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “There are some models நீnee · you can use as a big rolling generator but none of ours have அதுadhu · it/that feature. There are ways to do அதுadhu · it/that anyway, with a power inverter, but அதுadhu · it/that could mean it’s இல்லilla · not/no available to use as a car in an emergency.” My car was getting us to Edina today; it had gotten Khalid up to the hospital the day before yesterday, when அவன்avan · he fell off the ladder.

“What about a bike generator?” Tom asked. “The kind நீnee · you pedal.” He pantomimed.

“Those make about a hundred watts,” Gloria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and looked at என்னைennai · me. “How many watts does the oxygen concentrator draw?”

“Five hundred,” I said.

“Lance Armstrong would need a crew and all his drugs,” Leah சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“Lance could dope himself silly if அவன்avan · he were making Susan power,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and then thought about how the drug shortages were getting worse. Whatever அவன்avan · he took, he probably wouldn’t be able to get anyway.

“Okay, but what if நம்மnamma · we had five bike generators,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Each biker making a hundred watts.”

“You’d want at least ten,” Gloria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Humans are unreliable. Maybe twelve, actually.” She fished a notebook out of her pocket, and a pen, and started making a list. “We’d need நீnee · you to trade for more copper wire. That’s tricky because everyone wants அதுadhu · it/that. Probably easier than fuel, though.”

“And bikes?”

“We have எல்லாம்ellaam · all the broken ones from Jack’s garage, நம்மnamma · we can cobble together the bike generators. But நம்மnamma · we’ll need people to pedal.”

நான்naan · I looked at Tanesha. She looked at me. “If the Acquisition Committee can bring us copper wire, நம்மnamma · we’ll make அதுadhu · it/that work,” she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. The “Acquisition Committee” was what she’d started calling me and Frank. “Bring any propane நீnee · you find, though. Or gasoline.”

The roads were quiet—mostly bikes and walkers, a few city buses. Everyone, including us, had parked cars sideways to block the streets leading into their neighborhoods, then left them there, then had the gasoline salvaged or looted out of them so the cars definitely weren’t going anywhere. Traffic on the roads picked up when நம்மnamma · we got to the edge of the suburbs, even though எல்லாம்ellaam · all the gas stations were still closed. Also, in addition to the car barricades, நம்மnamma · we saw something hanging from the streetlight அதுadhu · it/that for a second நான்naan · I thought was a body. It wasn’t a body: அதுadhu · it/that was a mannequin, though, so அதுadhu · it/that was definitely supposed to look like a body. It had a sign around its plastic neck saying LOOTER. So, yeah, okay. We did our best to look nonthreatening.

We’d brought samples of stuff நம்மnamma · we had in surplus, and a list of skills—like the midwife who could insert IUDs, and the people who’d worked on farms and could help with figuring out how to tear up yards and grow food there. “Why would நம்மnamma · we tear up our yards?” asked the first man நம்மnamma · we spoke with. “நான்naan · I just had அதுadhu · it/that sod put down last year!”

“நான்naan · I mean, you’re going to want enough food…”

“Things are going to be fine. Everything will be back to normal in a month.”

“Okay,” நான்naan · I said. “Well, in அதுadhu · it/that case, if நீnee · you’ve got an electric tiller you’re not using, we can pay for it in gold.”

It was a very productive, if sort of distressing, trip—நம்மnamma · we found people happy to take gold in trade for a bunch of useful things, including a spool of heavy copper wire அதுadhu · it/that அவங்கavanga · they’d taken off the bodies of some looters and stuck in a garage. Several suburbanites clearly had a large supply of fuel, but இல்லilla · not/no ஒண்ணுonnu · one wanted to trade any away. Frank was happiest about the tiller, but நான்naan · I was thrilled with the wire—in addition to the plan with the bikes, நம்மnamma · we could use இதுidhu · this to make multiple wind turbines.

Back in our own neighborhood, Frank handed off the tiller and Lem went to work with அதுadhu · it/that right away. நான்naan · I took the wire over to Clifford and Susan’s garage. Clifford had used அதுadhu · it/that as a workshop when அவன்avan · he was younger, so அதுadhu · it/that was insulated and reasonably pleasant, but then அவன்avan · he’d slowly filled அதுadhu · it/that with junk. Leah was supervising a team of teenagers who were clearing out the garage; Gloria was sorting things out and sending them to different garages around the block நம்மnamma · we were using as salvage bays or storage. Clifford popped out periodically to explain அதுadhu · it/that a snow blower would probably work again with a new belt or maybe a replacement flywheel; Gloria sent அதுadhu · it/that to the garage where அவங்கavanga · they’d be building turbines, because a big snowblower auger could be turned into wind turbine blades.

Meanwhile, people were bringing over bikes. There were a dozen broken bikes from Jack’s garage, another dozen semi-functional bikes from other people’s garages, and four actual stationary bikes people brought over when அவங்கavanga · they heard about the project. Gloria’s team worked on cleaning off rust and getting everything lubricated.

Clifford and Susan’s garage would have held two cars. Emptied out, அதுadhu · it/that looked enormous: நான்naan · I looked at the workbench on the far wall and imagined how அதுadhu · it/that had looked to Clifford when அவங்கavanga · they’d bought the house years ago, a space filled with potential. “We need more light in இங்கinga · here,” Gloria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, looking around. “But நம்மnamma · we’re going to need light அதுadhu · it/that doesn’t draw much power, LEDs or something.” நான்naan · I opened a box marked CHRISTMAS and pulled out some strings of Christmas lights to run around the edge of the room.

If நம்மnamma · we’d had இல்லilla · not/no power at எல்லாம்ellaam · all, நம்மnamma · we couldn’t have done இதுidhu · this—we’d have needed too many people, for too many hours, to handle அதுadhu · it/that. But the power was still on for part of the day, every day. Most of the day, even. We just needed to fill in the gaps.

The first gap நம்மnamma · we needed to fill in was the time to change things over—from city power to wind power, or wind power to bike power. Gloria had turned up a couple of big rechargeable batteries and set them up in Clifford and Susan’s living room.

“Why do நம்மnamma · we need three of them?” Susan asked.

“Because humans are unpredictable,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “With bike power, அவங்கavanga · they’ll be sending power in, but if everyone starts pedaling slowly at the same time, நம்மnamma · we want something to even things out and make sure your oxygen concentrator is still running. Also, if நீnee · you exhaust ஒண்ணுonnu · one during the transition, நம்மnamma · we want நீnee · you to have extras so you can wait until the power’s coming from the city again to recharge the one அதுadhu · it/that’s used up.”

If the wind was blowing, the windmill would take over generating power. But sometimes, the power would fail and there’d be இல்லilla · not/no wind. Gloria set up a car alarm to go off when அதுadhu · it/that happened, and அதுadhu · it/that would be the cue for a squad of fit youngsters (mostly teens from the surrounding four blocks) to come running to pedal the bikes until the power came back on. If அதுadhu · it/that was a long power outage and people got tired, நம்மnamma · we had a secondary set of signals to bring in replacements.

“Are people really going to do this?” Susan asked when நான்naan · I explained அதுadhu · it/that to her.

“We can pay them,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “How much is fair? நான்naan · I never even hired someone to shovel என்னோடennoda · my snow because I didn’t know how much to offer அதுadhu · it/that would be fair. I don’t think நம்மnamma · we have anything people would want for trade.”

“Superlative cosplay costumes?” Susan muttered.

“People have been working on the food-production project for free,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Let’s see if நம்மnamma · we can get volunteers. You still have a stash of propane, if இதுidhu · this doesn’t work out.”

நான்naan · I had actually thought நம்மnamma · we’d need to come up with a way to pay people—after the first week, anyway—but அதுadhu · it/that turned out to be exactly like ripping up yards to plant potatoes, people were willing to just do அதுadhu · it/that. No ஒண்ணுonnu · one wanted to be responsible for doing எல்லாம்ellaam · all of அதுadhu · it/that, but pedaling ஒண்ணுonnu · one of a dozen bikes for an hour? Or a half hour? Lots of people were willing.

It did help அதுadhu · it/that Hong, who lived next door to Clifford and Susan, had a backyard hot tub in a gazebo, and anyone coming off bike-pedaling duty could hop in for a quick soak. You couldn’t turn அதுadhu · it/that into a whirlpool unless the power had come back, but the water was always at least comfy.

“Can நீnee · you please tell people to come inside sometimes so நான்naan · I can say thank நீnee · you?” Susan asked when நான்naan · I checked in after the first week. Tanesha’s daughter Jasmine was sitting on an ottoman pulled up next to Susan’s recliner, with a basket of yarn in her lap and a crochet hook in her hand; apparently, Susan could make amigurumi, those adorable crocheted stuffies, and was teaching Jasmine the tricks of the trade. They were making little crocheted mice.

“They don’t want to be a bother,” நான்naan · I said.

“We can make them coffee. Or lemonade.”

“We can make lemonade for the first ten,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Then நம்மnamma · we’ll be out of either the lemon juice or the sugar.”

Clifford had been going out to the garage to say thank நீnee · you to the people pedaling, but Susan couldn’t, since அவava · she was stuck in the house with her oxygen concentrator. This was allegedly a “portable” model and என்னenna · what அதுadhu · it/that seemed to mean was, நீnee · you could roll அதுadhu · it/that over to the bathroom when நீnee · you had to pee. “How did you ever leave the house, before?” நான்naan · I asked, and then wondered if the answer was, அவava · she didn’t? நான்naan · I didn’t remember ever seeing her.

“Bottled oxygen,” Susan said.

“Do நீnee · you think you could teach more people how to make those?” நான்naan · I asked, pointing at the crocheted mice.

“Oh, they’re so easy,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Definitely, anyone who wants to learn.”

“For kids younger than Jasmine?”

She thought அதுadhu · it/that over. “நான்naan · I think I was six when I learned crochet,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Not little creatures back then, though, என்னோடennoda · my aunt taught என்னைennai · me how to make a potholder. It would depend on the kid, though. Some little ones are all thumbs.”

“You’re thinking about Kalia, aren’t நீnee · you?” Jasmine சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and turned to Susan to explain. “Kalia wants to help with everything but mostly அவava · she gets in the way. And her parents are very busy. Her mom’s a nurse and still goes to work and her dad’s been helping with the block farm. And இல்லilla · not/no ஒண்ணுonnu · one’s really had time for her. She’s seven.”

“Oh, in அதுadhu · it/that case, bring her over,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “நான்naan · I’ve got a whole closet full of yarn and if நான்naan · I can’t teach her crochet, I think I’ve got ஒண்ணுonnu · one of those old plastic knitting looms around, I’ll teach her how to make hats. We can give them to people when அவங்கavanga · they come in so I can say thank நீnee · you.”

By early May, medications were getting harder to get.

The rule was supposed to be அதுadhu · it/that “life-sustaining” medications were prioritized, which everyone agreed made sense. But அதுadhu · it/that turned out to exclude most of the psychiatric meds, இல்லilla · not/no matter how important அவங்கavanga · they were. You could still buy cigarettes, so Frank, who’d quit smoking years ago but இப்பippa · now couldn’t get a prescription அவன்avan · he needed, went back to smoking as a substitute.

“Send him in to talk to me,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, fuming, when அவava · she heard.

“He won’t,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “He said he doesn’t want to carry the particles on his clothing into where அவங்கavanga · they might get into your lungs.”

“Horse hockey,” she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “He just doesn’t want the scolding he deserves.”

Frank சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said அதுadhu · it/that couldn’t be any worse for him than breathing the air எல்லாம்ellaam · all day, which was definitely horse hockey—the damage was cumulative—but given that அவன்avan · he’d privately given என்னைennai · me the list of drugs he needed, and நான்naan · I hadn’t found any of them, நான்naan · I was inclined to just let him be. If cigarettes kept him halfway functional, let him smoke. Away from Susan.

Clyde also gave என்னைennai · me his list, and cigarettes weren’t going to cut அதுadhu · it/that as a substitute. He looked extremely uncomfortable as அவன்avan · he handed அதுadhu · it/that to என்னைennai · me. “நான்naan · I’ve done really well for years,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, as நான்naan · I looked it over. “But back when நான்naan · I was about twenty-two I got hospitalized because the walls were talking to me. I usually take aripiprazole, but either of these other two will work. I took Zyprexa for years and only went off it because I started developing sugar diabetes.”

“That wouldn’t be good, either,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, thinking about Tanesha’s worries about insulin and blood testing strips.

“Oh, நான்naan · I know.” He laughed a little. “But temporarily, நீnee · you know, it’s an option. The gabapentin is for anxiety.”

“The store’s out of gabapentin?” நான்naan · I said, dismayed.

“Nah, but அவங்கavanga · they prioritized the folks who need அதுadhu · it/that for pain. நான்naan · I get that, I do, but they offered me benzos and…I really don’t want to take benzos.”

“நான்naan · I’ll see what I can do, Clyde,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and put out the word.

Two days later, Pang stopped by என்னோடennoda · my house with a giant shopping bag and handed அதுadhu · it/that to me. நான்naan · I peered inside and just about recoiled when I saw the unopened boxes of both Abilify and gabapentin. “You didn’t rob a pharmacy, did நீnee · you?” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“As if நான்naan · I’d have found the Abilify if I had,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “No, I was doing an IUD for a woman over by the park, and she told என்னைennai · me her mom died a few months ago and she had எல்லாம்ellaam · all these meds left over. There’s other stuff in there, too, I just figured I’d bring நீnee · you all of அதுadhu · it/that.”

“Thank you so much,” நான்naan · I said.

“நான்naan · I’m going to start asking people for leftover stuff every time I’m at someone’s house,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “No one around இங்கinga · here ever throws anything away. There are three half-finished packs of antibiotics in there! I mean if நீnee · you’re இல்லilla · not/no going to finish your antibiotics like அவங்கavanga · they tell you to, at least throw them out! But nope.”

There were a couple of people with drugs அதுadhu · it/that had to be refrigerated, and as summer got into gear, நம்மnamma · we started using Lem’s extra deep freeze, which was enormous, to do nothing but store plastic sacks of ice cubes, so அதுadhu · it/that if நம்மnamma · we had an extended power outage அவங்கavanga · they’d be able to pack everything into a cooler full of ice.

In late July, a huge storm hit Minneapolis.

We had some warning, both from the extremely ominous clouds and the radio, and made the quick executive decision அதுadhu · it/that நம்மnamma · we wouldn’t call people to pedal until the storm passed—the storm should be providing plenty of wind, and if winds were bad enough to knock down the turbine, அவங்கavanga · they were bad enough இல்லilla · not/no to send people running through the storm. Clifford had a stock of propane, and இதுidhu · this would be a நல்லாnallaa · good time to use அதுadhu · it/that, if அவன்avan · he needed to.

The rain came in sheets, buffeted by the wind; நான்naan · I listened to அதுadhu · it/that rattling on என்னோடennoda · my roof. I paced around in my living room, peering out at the dim afternoon and hoping the rain didn’t wash away எல்லாம்ellaam · all the crops நம்மnamma · we’d planted in the yards we’d dug up, hoping இல்லilla · not/no ஒண்ணுonnu · one’s basement flooded, hoping the power stayed on. I wished I’d gone over to Tanesha’s to wait இதுidhu · this out.

When the power went out, நான்naan · I went upstairs to try to spot Clifford and Susan’s house, to see if the wind turbine looked like அதுadhu · it/that was working. There were too many boulevard trees and too much rain for என்னைennai · me to see anything. நான்naan · I paced around, thinking about how “நம்மnamma · we don’t வேணும்venum · want people running around outside in the storm” was still a perfectly sensible decision and then put on என்னோடennoda · my shoes and stepped outside.

நான்naan · I didn’t bother putting on a raincoat, because நான்naan · I was just going to have to accept நான்naan · I’d be soaked to the skin. The turbine had been knocked down, and நான்naan · I could see Clifford plus someone in a yellow raincoat bending over the generator. நான்naan · I waffled for a minute about whether அவங்கavanga · they could use என்னோடennoda · my help or if நான்naan · I’d just be in the way, but then அவங்கavanga · they both straightened up and நான்naan · I saw Clifford போpo · go back into the house and the person in the raincoat dash back across the street. They’d gotten the generator on. நான்naan · I went back inside and closed the door on a titanic crack of thunder and என்னenna · what sounded like a tree splitting in half.

Morning arrived, but இல்லilla · not/no power. நான்naan · I went out, in dry clothing and damp shoes, to have a look at the damage. There were trees down everywhere, எல்லாம்ellaam · all the nearby streets were blocked, and when நான்naan · I walked up for a closer look at the tree blocking the big through-street நான்naan · I saw power lines அதுadhu · it/that had been knocked down—our neighbors to the north had put out orange hazard cones to keep people away from the wires.

Clyde worked at the hydro plant on the Mississippi near downtown, and as நான்naan · I was gawking at the power lines அவன்avan · he came up next to என்னைennai · me, his work clothes on, carrying a rucksack. “Don’t touch அதுadhu · it/that,” he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“நான்naan · I won’t,” I said. “Are you on your way in?”

“Yep. Going to have to walk அதுadhu · it/that, the bus can’t get through the downed trees. Can someone feed my cats if நான்naan · I’m இல்லilla · not/no home tonight by eight?”

“You bet,” I said.

Tanesha was already organizing people to போpo · go clear என்னenna · what நம்மnamma · we could. Five people had cordless chainsaws—the real trick was going to be finding எல்லாம்ellaam · all the charged-up batteries அதுadhu · it/that could be swapped in, and what we were going to do once those were used up. In the distance, நான்naan · I could hear other people’s chainsaws, and a generator அதுadhu · it/that wasn’t Clifford and Susan’s.

Clifford and Susan’s generator was இப்பippa · now off: pedalers had arrived and taken over, and Leah and Gloria were putting the wind turbine back up. Clifford was sitting on his front steps, watching them work. “Kalia found ஒண்ணுonnu · one of those turbine blades stuck in the shrubs next to Abdi’s house,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “We probably should have taken அதுadhu · it/that down before the storm.” He glanced at என்னைennai · me. “We used up a lot of the propane.”

“நான்naan · I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, நான்naan · I’m இல்லilla · not/no saying anyone should have வாvaa · come to pedal! Someone might have gotten brained by a flying turbine blade! நான்naan · I mean…” He rubbed his palms against the knees of his jeans. “Our retirement wasn’t supposed to be like இதுidhu · this. We were supposed to travel around, see எல்லாம்ellaam · all the places நம்மnamma · we never had time for. Susan wasn’t supposed to get sick. All இதுidhu · this…” His voice cracked as அவன்avan · he waved at the hills of potatoes in his yard, the wind turbine, the branches. “This isn’t என்னenna · what அதுadhu · it/that was supposed to be like.”

Jasmine popped out of the front door. “Clifford?” she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Susan’s asking for நீnee · you.”

Clifford stood up. “Excuse என்னைennai · me,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, and went inside. When நான்naan · I went in a few minutes later to get Jasmine, his anger was gone, or at least well-masked again. “Lem was இங்கinga · here earlier looking for a saw vise,” he said. “Can நீnee · you let him know I found mine?”

“I will,” I said.

The radio சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said crews were working around the clock to get roads cleared and lines back up, but அதுadhu · it/that could be days—at least அவங்கavanga · they weren’t saying weeks—until everyone’s power was back. That meant நம்மnamma · we were going to need a lot more pedalers than usual. Tanesha sent Jasmine and Kalia around to the houses on adjacent blocks அதுadhu · it/that weren’t usually part of the pedaling corps, to see if anyone was willing to volunteer. This brought in a new group of pedalers as well as a couple of people with handsaws and some willingness to tackle the downed trees.

We also got a naysayer who’d previously been ignoring the whole project and இப்பippa · now wanted to complain to Tanesha about what நம்மnamma · we were doing. “It’s very sad and all, but அதுadhu · it/that’s இல்லilla · not/no like the lady who needs oxygen is going to get better,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Tanesha gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You delay the inevitable every time நீnee · you eat lunch.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really இல்லilla · not/no,” she said.

நான்naan · I thought of Clifford’s furious அதுadhu · it/that wasn’t supposed to be like இதுidhu · this and felt a surge of என்னோடennoda · my own anger, enough அதுadhu · it/that நான்naan · I let Tanesha finish the conversation and then just muttered “asshole” as the guy stomped off down the street. I felt like if I started screaming at him, I might never stop.

The wind picked up அதுadhu · it/that evening and the repaired wind turbine gave everyone a break. We used the other turbines on the block to charge up the batteries for the chainsaws. We also checked Clifford’s stock and decided to use the generator for a few hours during the hottest parts of the afternoon the next day. We had everyone with a wind turbine making ice if அவங்கavanga · they could, to keep the coolers stocked for people with perishable medications.

After four days, the power came back. As did Clyde, who looked exhausted but had at least been able to ride the bus home through the இப்பippa · now-cleared streets. Jasmine and Kalia had been over at his house every day to feed his cats and left him a batch of cookies அவங்கavanga · they’d baked in a Dutch oven. We’d turned எல்லாம்ellaam · all those downed trees into firewood—figured நம்மnamma · we might as well.

Summer went by. A lot of என்னenna · what நம்மnamma · we’d planted didn’t grow well, for the same reason the solar panels weren’t much use—the lingering ash in the air clouding over the sun. We got a lot of potatoes, though, and some other root vegetables அதுadhu · it/that would tolerate shade. We’d planted in என்னenna · what would be “full sun,” normally, and there were days when நம்மnamma · we could tell the sun was out, because there were shadows on the ground despite the gray sky. Valeria, who’d been a Master Gardener at the University Extension and appeared to have magical powers over plants, gave எல்லாம்ellaam · all the potato plants pep talks, telling them to just do their best, and அதுadhu · it/that seemed to help.

Valeria also knew the best way to set up a makeshift root cellar in a garage, for எல்லாம்ellaam · all the potatoes, carrots, turnips, and beets. We canned some of the green beans, but இல்லilla · not/no a whole lot, because canning supplies were as hard to find as anything else.

Unfortunately, Valeria’s magic wasn’t able to deter garden scavengers: நம்மnamma · we put up chicken wire to keep out rabbits, but the urban deer were getting increasingly brazen. They jumped over the first fence நம்மnamma · we put up, barreled straight through the second.

In the twilight hours ஒண்ணுonnu · one August morning, நான்naan · I woke suddenly to a loud noise. நான்naan · I was used to being roused by the “pedalers needed” alarm, but the power was on. Also, அதுadhu · it/that had been just ஒண்ணுonnu · one loud noise, நான்naan · I wasn’t hearing the whoop-whoop-whoop of the car alarm. This was odd enough அதுadhu · it/that நான்naan · I put on என்னோடennoda · my bathrobe and went outside, at which point I found Lem, a dead deer, and a ferocious argument already underway.

Lem, apparently, had loaded his hunting rifle, வாvaa · come out in the predawn quiet, and shot ஒண்ணுonnu · one of the deer foraging in the garden. “Look,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, exasperated. “The problem is, அவங்கavanga · they’re eating our food. Good news, though, deer are food. Venison jerky has more calories than green beans anyway.”

“Lem, நீnee · you cannot be shooting off a gun right by where we live,” Gloria said. “You can இல்லilla · not/no.”

“No ஒண்ணுonnu · one’s up at five! Anyone who is up, isn’t outside! Also, those deer are shameless. நான்naan · I got ten feet from her before நான்naan · I fired. Sure wasn’t going to miss at அதுadhu · it/that distance.”

Tanesha had வாvaa · come out of her house about a minute after நான்naan · I came out of mine, and everyone paused and looked at her, like அவங்கavanga · they’d agreed அதுadhu · it/that was up to her என்னenna · what happened next. She looked at the deer, at Lem, at Gloria, at everyone else, and சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, “Lem, do நீnee · you know how to field dress இதுidhu · this thing? Get it somewhere it won’t make the little kids cry and get started on processing it, நம்மnamma · we’re இல்லilla · not/no letting it போpo · go to waste. Meet back in an hour, or whenever you’re done.”

The previous day had been cool, a little taste of early fall, but today was hot again, and நம்மnamma · we set up a couple of wading pools and sprinklers in the street for the kids to play in while நம்மnamma · we had our meeting. “It’s இல்லilla · not/no அதுadhu · it/that நம்மnamma · we object to hunting,” Leah சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, quickly, as soon as everyone sat down. “We just don’t வேணும்venum · want அதுadhu · it/that happening so close to people’s houses.”

Lem snorted. “நான்naan · I’ll just drive up to என்னோடennoda · my brother’s cabin, then, and let the deer keep eating the potatoes.”

“They were eating the green beans—”

Tanesha managed to cut அதுadhu · it/that argument off before it got any further. “Leah, நான்naan · I get என்னenna · what நீnee · you’re saying, but அவன்avan · he’s right—there’s hunting, and there’s pest control, and he could go somewhere else to hunt but that won’t do much for the pest control.”

“நான்naan · I think the deer herd lives over in the cemetery,” Valeria சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Maybe Lem could go there?”

The cemetery was easy walking distance but still kind of outside our particular part of the neighborhood. We எல்லாம்ellaam · all paused, thinking about who நம்மnamma · we knew between our block and the cemetery, and Valeria added, “Everyone’s having trouble with those deer, and நம்மnamma · we could promise them jerky.”

“There’s still a Department of Natural Resources,” Lem சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Game wardens. Police. நான்naan · I knew நீnee · you folks wouldn’t turn me in for taking இதுidhu · this one. I don’t know about the folks by the cemetery.”

“My gardener friend over there, அவava · she’d be all for அதுadhu · it/that. She’ll want to know if நீnee · you can do the bunnies while you’re at it.”

“What about her neighbors, though? And their neighbors?”

“Valeria, take Alexis and the two of நீnee · you see என்னenna · what you can find out from the people right by the cemetery,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “In the meantime, Lem, இல்லilla · not/no more shooting off guns by our houses.”

“What if someone shows up trying to loot stuff?” Lem asked.

“No deadly force against property crimes, either,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. That set off another round of arguing. A lot of என்னோடennoda · my neighbors had guns, அதுadhu · it/that turned out—அதுadhu · it/that probably shouldn’t have surprised என்னைennai · me as much as அதுadhu · it/that did. The number of arguments in favor of deadly force against property crimes probably shouldn’t have surprised என்னைennai · me either, given how worried everyone was about the food supplies.

நான்naan · I just listened, thinking about the suburbanites who’d strung up a mannequin, and how much நான்naan · I didn’t வேணும்venum · want அதுadhu · it/that to be us. Eventually the less gun-happy more or less won the argument: நம்மnamma · we’d defend ourselves with force if அதுadhu · it/that came to that, but இல்லilla · not/no guns, not without another discussion, not unless someone was actually threatening us with violence.

The cemetery neighbors turned out to be wildly enthusiastic about a discreet deer hunt, especially with the promise of venison. They stood lookout as Pang’s husband Bee went with Lem to stalk and shoot the herd. We split the meat, enjoyed some venison burgers and venison chili, and turned the haunches into jerky to save for winter.

One fall day நான்naan · I passed Susan’s yard and அவava · she was sitting out front in a lawn chair, her oxygen concentrator plugged in to a long heavy-duty extension cord. She had a giant bushel basket of tiny semi-wormy apples, a dozen little kids, Jeana—who was still using her walker—and Gail, a woman from the next block who walked with crutches. நான்naan · I went over to say hi, and saw அதுadhu · it/that அவங்கavanga · they had rounded up vegetable peelers for each child, and had the kids painstakingly peeling the tiny apples. The adults cut them carefully into rings, and then the youngest children in the group were spreading them out on cookie sheets. நான்naan · I went over for a closer look. “That’s amazing,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“We’re peeling off எல்லாம்ellaam · all the bad spots,” a little boy informed என்னைennai · me excitedly. “Peeling them very, very carefully and நம்மnamma · we’re making dried apples and நான்naan · I’m being very helpful! Would நீnee · you like an apple? I can find you one without any bad spots!”

“That’s a நல்லாnallaa · good idea,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Why don’t நீnee · you see if you can find Alexis a nice apple from one of those big baskets by the fence.” He zoomed off and அவava · she turned to என்னைennai · me to explain, “Gail has an apple tree.”

“நான்naan · I can’t even remember என்னenna · what sort of apple அவங்கavanga · they told us இதுidhu · this was when நம்மnamma · we bought the tree,” Gail சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “We had இதுidhu · this vision of homegrown apples அதுadhu · it/that looked like the ones from the store. Turns out orchards mostly use a ton of chemicals and if நீnee · you don’t, everything from birds to squirrels to moth larvae get into them. Plus நீnee · you need to get up on a ladder and thin them when அவங்கavanga · they’re tiny if you வேணும்venum · want them to grow to full size. Which Kent even did, this year, but they still stayed small, probably because there was so little sun.”

The little boy came back with an apple, and நான்naan · I borrowed a knife to cut அதுadhu · it/that into wedges for myself. The slices were delicious, sweet, and crisp.

“Unblemished apples actually keep pretty well,” Jeana சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “But நான்naan · I’m இல்லilla · not/no sure there are any unblemished apples, so நம்மnamma · we’re turning them into rings to dry. It’s something the kids can help with, too.”

“Are நீnee · you just making the rounds?” Susan asked. “Or are நீnee · you looking for something? You’ve got your clipboard.”

நான்naan · I looked down at my list. “Tanesha is thinking about winter,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Power outages will mean furnaces can’t run.”

“நான்naan · I have a gas furnace,” Jeana சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Are they thinking there won’t be natural gas?”

“It’s a gas furnace, but அதுadhu · it/that won’t run without electricity because of the blower,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “It would be bad if அதுadhu · it/that did, actually, because carbon monoxide would build up.”

“Mine runs without a blower,” Susan சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Clifford and நான்naan · I have a gravity furnace, அதுadhu · it/that’s an older style. Looks like an evil octopus in the basement. It runs without electricity.”

“It looks like an evil octopus?”

“நான்naan · I don’t know how else to describe it,” Susan said.

“நான்naan · I always thought they looked like space aliens,” Jeana சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. I went to find Clifford for a basement tour.

The gravity furnace had an enormous barrel-shaped central unit with similarly enormous vents sprouting off அதுadhu · it/that in எல்லாம்ellaam · all directions. It did, in fact, look like a giant evil octopus. “நான்naan · I really don’t தெரியும்theriyum · know anything about these,” I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

“We always meant to replace அதுadhu · it/that,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “They’re இல்லilla · not/no very efficient but having it taken out and replaced would be so expensive, and அவங்கavanga · they last forever. No moving parts.”

“Are you cool with ஜனங்கjananga · people showing up to spend time in your வீடுveedu · house this winter?” I asked.

Clifford laughed, and அதுadhu · it/that somehow turned into him leaning against a wall and wiping his eyes and nodding.

We harvested the potatoes and turned backyard tool sheds and cold corners of basements into root cellars. We identified houses to work as shelters during cold snaps without power—there were two other gravity furnaces, two houses with super-efficient heat pumps, and a couple of well-insulated homes with gas furnaces so நம்மnamma · we’d only need to power the blower. Shelter houses also needed enough space inside for visitors and owners who weren’t dicks. (நான்naan · I love என்னோடennoda · my neighborhood, but நம்மnamma · we do have our share of dicks.) Shelter houses got a turbine if அவங்கavanga · they didn’t already have ஒண்ணுonnu · one, and Gloria sent around இதுidhu · this group அவava · she and Lem had trained to caulk எல்லாம்ellaam · all the windows and build a vestibule so அதுadhu · it/that when ஜனங்கjananga · people came in எல்லாம்ellaam · all the heat didn’t போpo · go rushing out. Susan made decorative WELCOME banners the shelter houses could hang out so everyone would remember which ones அவங்கavanga · they were.

In early November, a government convoy started coming through on the big main street once a week to distribute relief supplies. The buses got less reliable, and நான்naan · I started giving Clyde a ride to and from work when நான்naan · I could. Sometimes நான்naan · I couldn’t—during brownouts, there wasn’t enough power to charge up என்னோடennoda · my car—and அவன்avan · he walked to the plant.

The houses with the heat pumps also had solar panels. So did several other ஜனங்கjananga · people on the block. Predictions சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said அதுadhu · it/that enough ash should be out of the air by mid-winter அதுadhu · it/that நம்மnamma · we’d be able to get power from those again—although those predictions were making a lot of assumptions and நான்naan · I sure didn’t வேணும்venum · want to count on அதுadhu · it/that. நான்naan · I didn’t வேணும்venum · want to count on those convoys continuing, either. In the meantime, நம்மnamma · we pooled the canned goods from the convoy and passed எல்லாம்ellaam · all the canned beans along to Diana, who had a severe nightshade allergy and couldn’t eat potatoes. This was a lot of beans, way more than fit in her cupboards, and நம்மnamma · we stacked them up in her living room and made jokes about the Great Wall of Legumes. We were glad for அதுadhu · it/that, though, because then the convoy didn’t வாvaa · come for three weeks.

After two weeks without a convoy, the suburban neighborhood நம்மnamma · we’d visited in early summer sent over a delegation wanting to buy food. They started out hoping to buy with money, but when அதுadhu · it/that produced இல்லilla · not/no interest, அவங்கavanga · they upped their bid to fuel. That sent us back to run some calculations—how much did நம்மnamma · we have? How many government relief convoys did நம்மnamma · we expect to see, based on the rumors நம்மnamma · we’d heard? We agreed to a trade, potatoes for propane, because அதுadhu · it/that would be நல்லாnallaa · good to keep the option of the generator open, especially if நம்மnamma · we had another prolonged outage.

“Where do நீnee · you suppose அவங்கavanga · they got the fuel?” Tanesha asked என்னைennai · me when they stepped outside for a private conversation of our offer.

“Either they had a hoarder, or they hijacked a fuel truck,” நான்naan · I சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Do நீnee · you think a bunch of rich yuppies could pull off a fuel truck heist?”

They came back with the propane tanks and tried to make us sweeten the deal in அதுadhu · it/that obnoxious way ஜனங்கjananga · people sometimes will, then left with their potatoes and their bad attitude and went back to the burbs.

“நான்naan · I have a bad feeling,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Let’s add some folks to the people watching overnights for a bit.”

Tanesha was right.

நான்naan · I was standing watch at the south entrance to the neighborhood when the attack came. We used walkie-talkies for communication, although அவங்கavanga · they were the kind some guy bought for his hunting blind years ago and were இல்லilla · not/no great. Mine went off with a squawk, and நான்naan · I heard the word “west entrance—” over the static before அதுadhu · it/that went silent.

நான்naan · I set off the car alarm. We’d started out using the car alarm to summon ஜனங்கjananga · people to generate power, but over the months நம்மnamma · we’d வாvaa · come up with a set of signals in addition to the standard “pedalers needed” alarm. We had a fire alarm (நம்மnamma · we’d actually saved Luke’s வீடுveedu · house by running with fire extinguishers and a garden hose, which was a damn நல்லாnallaa · good thing because re-building a வீடுveedu · house right இப்பippa · now would be a non-starter) and also a generic “எல்லாம்ellaam · all hands! Emergency!” alarm.

“West entrance!” நான்naan · I shouted to everyone who headed என்னோடennoda · my way, and the word got passed. Although once the bulk of the neighbors headed in அதுadhu · it/that direction, others stayed to reinforce என்னோடennoda · my spot, in case the west entrance assault was a diversion.

It was இல்லilla · not/no. We were dealing with a coordinated attack but இல்லilla · not/no an especially sophisticated ஒண்ணுonnu · one. Their plan was just “get in, grab stuff, get out,” and அவங்கavanga · they’d assumed நம்மnamma · we wouldn’t be able to respond quickly enough to stop them. Back in the spring, அவங்கavanga · they’d have been right! But for months இப்பippa · now நம்மnamma · we’d been drilling a fast response to alarms, இல்லilla · not/no because நம்மnamma · we were rehearsing for an invasion, but because நம்மnamma · we were making power for Susan. The interlopers never had a chance. Most of them ran away but Keith got ஒண்ணுonnu · one in a headlock and another ஒண்ணுonnu · one, by sheer bad luck (for him) tripped and went down and broke his own ankle. No ஒண்ணுonnu · one had even touched him.

Despite the “இல்லilla · not/no deadly force against property crime” rule, Lem and Bee both had guns with them, but neither gun came out of its holster. The guy in the headlock flailed around trying to pull something out of his pocket, but Clyde just slapped his hand away. He turned out to have a gun rattling around loose like a set of keys in ஒண்ணுonnu · one pocket, and pepper spray in the other. We confiscated both. The ஒண்ணுonnu · one who broke his ankle had a gun in a holster where நம்மnamma · we could see அதுadhu · it/that but Lem barked instructions at him and the guy didn’t even try to draw. It turned out to be an air pistol.

We hauled our prisoners into Keith’s வீடுveedu · house (நான்naan · I think on the theory அதுadhu · it/that Keith had created இதுidhu · this problem by catching someone) and someone went to get Pang to splint the klutz’s ankle. Once நம்மnamma · we had them in நல்லாnallaa · good light நம்மnamma · we could see அதுadhu · it/that அவங்கavanga · they were teenagers, which explained a lot. Stupid white boys from the suburbs, we were pretty sure, and இதுidhu · this was confirmed by the injured ஒண்ணுonnu · one as அவன்avan · he ranted about how அவன்avan · he knew this was a bad idea, he told everyone this was a bad idea, he didn’t even வேணும்venum · want to வாvaa · come along and had come just to keep them out of trouble. They were இல்லilla · not/no actually from the suburb we’d traded with, but somewhere west of there. They’d heard we had a surplus of food and figured அவங்கavanga · they’d swoop in and supplement their own dwindling supplies.

“நான்naan · I think we should ransom them,” Keith said.

Tanesha shook her head. This turned out to be mainly a semantic quibble. “Fine them,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “Their parents can pay for the damage அவங்கavanga · they did.” The boys had kicked in the side door of someone’s garage before the neighbors had stopped them.

The alarm went off again and there was a brief moment of oh இல்லilla · not/no என்னenna · what இப்பippa · now and then நம்மnamma · we realized அதுadhu · it/that was just a call for pedalers. Everyone was awake, despite it being the middle of the night, and most ஜனங்கjananga · people were still buzzing with adrenaline, so those slots would be easy to fill.

“What is அதுadhu · it/that?” asked the uninjured boy. Kyle. He hadn’t told us his name, but the injured ஒண்ணுonnu · one had sworn at him a bunch, so நம்மnamma · we’d picked it up.

“It means நம்மnamma · we need people to run the generator,” Tanesha said.

“See,” the injured one சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, furiously. “They have a generator. We’re lucky நம்மnamma · we didn’t get shot.”

“Shut up, Jake,” சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said Kyle.

“நான்naan · I mean, they’re basically paramilitary over here…”

“We run a generator to keep a lady breathing,” Keith சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said.

Both boys stared at him in open disbelief.

“Do நீnee · you வேணும்venum · want to see அதுadhu · it/that?” Tanesha asked, standing up. “Maybe it’ll give you some ideas to take home to your own community.”

Getting them over there was kind of a production. Even splinted, Jake couldn’t walk on his injured ankle, so Leah went and found a knee scooter from the garage full of “could வாvaa · come in handy” stuff அதுadhu · it/that Hawa kept organized. Kyle presented the opposite problem—அவன்avan · he could just run for அதுadhu · it/that, and might outrun us if அவன்avan · he tried. Keith wound up taking his shoes.

It was a cold night, but the generator station was warm, because அதுadhu · it/that was well-insulated and the pedalers had been at அதுadhu · it/that for a while. There were twelve ஜனங்கjananga · people on the bikes, twelve hanging out on the sofas at the edge of the room for rest breaks. The room was equipped with LED string lights, a meter அதுadhu · it/that let them track whether அவங்கavanga · they were putting out enough power, and a bunch of miscellaneous posters and pictures அதுadhu · it/that regular pedalers had put up. It had started with இதுidhu · this nice photo of Susan, which Clifford had hung up early on. Then someone added a picture of his grandma in another state, who அவன்avan · he hadn’t heard from in a while and was hoping was okay, and then someone else put up a poster of mountains with blue sky. At இதுidhu · this point, the walls were very well decorated.

The ஜனங்கjananga · people on the couches were relaxing and waiting their turn, with two of them—Hakeem and Galen—cooperating to வாvaa · come up with rhymed lyrics about fighting off the suburbanites. Everyone was laughing. They trailed off as நம்மnamma · we came in. “What’s up?” ஒண்ணுonnu · one of them asked, nervously.

“Kyle and Jake wanted to see our generator,” நான்naan · I said.

Hakeem stood up. “Yeah,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “We generate electricity to keep an oxygen concentrator running.” He walked over to the wall to point out the photo of Susan.

“Is அவava · she your doctor or something?” Kyle asked. This question was met with baffled silence. “An engineer? What makes her so important?”

“She teaches crochet,” someone from ஒண்ணுonnu · one of the bikes called. “Those little guys up there.” The décor included a shelf of amigurumi.

“No, seriously,” Kyle said, laughing. “நான்naan · I don’t get it.”

Hakeem was ஒண்ணுonnu · one of those teenage boys who was எல்லாம்ellaam · all limbs, and அவன்avan · he stepped up to loom over Kyle, who shrank back. “Susan,” Hakeem சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, “is a member of our community.”

Kyle stopped laughing and swallowed hard. “Do நீnee · you want us to pedal? Well, me to pedal. Jake’s injured, அவன்avan · he can’t do அதுadhu · it/that.”

Hakeem loomed a few seconds longer. “No,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “No one wants நீnee · you to pedal. We want you to go home to your suburb and tell your buddies இல்லilla · not/no to mess with us.”

நான்naan · I’d imagined நம்மnamma · we would have to haul these boys back to the suburbs ourselves, but by morning, their parents were standing at the edge of our neighborhood looking indignant. When Tanesha came out without their sons, and சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said அவங்கavanga · they’d need to pay a fine to cover the damages அவங்கavanga · they’d done, அவங்கavanga · they angrily threatened to call the police, which made எல்லாம்ellaam · all of us laugh. Then அவங்கavanga · they only wanted to pay the fine for Kyle, and இல்லilla · not/no for Jake, apparently because Kyle’s parents were important and Jake’s weren’t, although the fact அதுadhu · it/that Jake had fallen down and hurt himself seemed to play into அதுadhu · it/that. Tanesha made அதுadhu · it/that clear அவங்கavanga · they were a package deal, இல்லilla · not/no discounts available if நீnee · you only wanted ஒண்ணுonnu · one, and after a bit more grumbling, they forked over the fine—a 20 lb propane tank, almost full.

Early in the morning on the first day of February, Jake showed back up.

He arrived at dawn, more or less. Alone. Limping a little bit, because அதுadhu · it/that had been a long walk, and shivering, although the cold snap நம்மnamma · we’d been in was easing off. Tanesha threw her coat on over a nightgown and came out. “What are நீnee · you doing back?” அவava · she asked.

“நான்naan · I want to join you,” he said.

“What do நீnee · you think you mean by அதுadhu · it/that? We’re not the Army. You can’t just sign up.”

“நான்naan · I want to live இங்கinga · here,” அவன்avan · he சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “I promise I can work. When I don’t have a broken ankle I can work really hard. I can pedal, I can dig, whatever நீnee · you want me to do I can do.”

“Where do நீnee · you think you’re going to sleep, son?” asked Lem.

He looked miserable. “நான்naan · I don’t know. Maybe someone has a couch?”

Lem, Tanesha, and நான்naan · I looked at each other and Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, “It’s too cold to stand around chatting, let’s get நீnee · you inside somewhere to figure this out.”

The lights were on in Susan and Clifford’s வீடுveedu · house, though their WELCOME banner was tattered by the wind, so Tanesha and நான்naan · I knocked and went in with our new guest. There’d been a power outage overnight but the sharp wind had எல்லாம்ellaam · all our wind turbines pumping out power, இல்லilla · not/no pedalers needed, and the city power had வாvaa · come back about a half hour ago. Clifford was puttering around in the kitchen and Susan was awake, because அவava · she called, “Who’s இங்கinga · here? Come say hello!” as soon as நம்மnamma · we closed the door behind us, and added, “Clifford, make some coffee!” without waiting to see who அதுadhu · it/that was.

“Don’t waste your coffee, அதுadhu · it/that’s me and Alexis with an uninvited guest,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, humor in her voice.

“Uninvited…?” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said, coming out of the kitchen and looking Jake up and down. “Where’d அவன்avan · he come from?”

“Suburbs,” Tanesha சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “He’s looking for a place to stay.”

Jake took a deep breath. “நான்naan · I can pedal, நான்naan · I can dig, நான்naan · I can cook and wash dishes, I can shovel snow. I’m இல்லilla · not/no great with tools but I can follow directions.”

“Why did நீnee · you come here?” Tanesha asked, exasperated.

“Because நான்naan · I want to live somewhere அதுadhu · it/that people take care of each other,” he said, his voice cracking.

Susan waved him to her side and took his hand. “Don’t worry, kid,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “They’re softies இங்கinga · here. They won’t throw நீnee · you to the wolves.” She plucked a tissue from a box on her side table and handed அதுadhu · it/that to him to wipe his eyes. “Welcome to the collective. We have a guest bed, upstairs. Or at least நம்மnamma · we did.”

“We gave அதுadhu · it/that bed to Lem, நான்naan · I can’t remember why,” Clifford சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “There’s space up there, though, and I’m sure someone has a bed they could bring over…”

“நான்naan · I don’t need a bed—”

Someone pounded on the front door and என்னோடennoda · my first thought was அதுadhu · it/that Jake’s suburb was back to reclaim him, but அதுadhu · it/that was Lem’s voice, and from என்னenna · what நம்மnamma · we could hear அவன்avan · he sounded gleeful, இல்லilla · not/no worried. Tanesha went to open the door and he’d already gone running down to the next வீடுveedu · house, but his voice carried back to us. “Blue sky,” he was yelling. “Blue sky!”

நான்naan · I looked up. There was a patch of blue—just a tiny ஒண்ணுonnu · one, but a patch of blue—and the sunshine was streaming down, cold and bright. “Come out!” நான்naan · I shouted over என்னோடennoda · my shoulder and ran across the street to knock on more doors and bring ஜனங்கjananga · people out to see. When நான்naan · I looked back, Clifford had gotten Susan, haltingly, as far as their front doorstep, with Jake behind her lugging her concentrator. They were looking up at the sky, at the break in the இல்லilla · not/no-quite-clouds, squinting in the sunshine, அதுadhu · it/that same expression of wonder on their faces அதுadhu · it/that நான்naan · I was feeling.

When நான்naan · I returned to Susan and Clifford’s house, Jake was earnestly trying to explain to Tanesha அதுadhu · it/that seeing the pedalers had made him realize there was a better way. “You’re in,” அவava · she சொன்னாங்கsonnaanga · said. “It’s fine. We’ll find நீnee · you a spot. Let’s just bask in the glory of the knowledge that spring might actually வாvaa · come இதுidhu · this year. Blue sky.”