Blackout: Tomorrow Will Be Too Late

by Marc Elsberg

  ‘On the news they said that the power is out again back home.’

  By home she meant France, Bollard realized. He nodded.

  ‘I called my parents on the phone. And yours.’

  ‘How are they?’

  ‘Good,’ he lied. ‘I asked your parents to go and stay with mine.’

  She frowned. ‘What for?’

  ‘In case the outage lasts for a long time.’

  ‘Why should it?’

  ‘You never know.’

  ‘And why go to your parents’? Because the countryside is so nice? To visit the Loire castles again?’

  ‘Because they have their own well, a stove they can heat with wood and a couple of hens.’

  Berlin, Germany

  Until now Michelsen had only been in the chancellery on public occasions. With her were members of the crisis team from every area. After that morning’s news they had stepped into a new phase of heightened security – and heightened anxiety. The guards at the entrance were more thorough than usual when carrying out their checks, and instead of allowing them to make their own way to the third-floor conference room, a young man escorted them to the door, then a couple of technicians ran checks on their laptops before hooking them up to the system.

  They waited in silence, everyone avoiding looking at anyone else. Nobody wants to reveal the fear in their eyes, thought Michelsen. On one wall of the room were ten video screens, linked via satellite to delegates unable to attend in person. Among them, Michelsen recognized two of the energy bosses from yesterday afternoon’s meeting: Heffgen and von Balsdorff. They fiddled with their jackets or shuffled documents in front of the computer’s camera eye.

  The minutes ticked slowly by. The Berlin sky was as dark as her thoughts. Approaching footsteps tore her away from her reverie.

  The chancellor was the first to enter. Prompt, resolute, serious. He shook hands with everyone present, exuding an air of resolve and vitality. Behind him came the full cabinet and the heads of government for all the member states.

  ‘I’d like to thank you all for coming, and also to extend my greetings to the ladies and gentlemen who are with us via satellite,’ the chancellor began his address.

  A face was now looking out from each of the ten screens on the opposite wall.

  ‘As a result of developments over the last few hours, this meeting has taken on a new significance. Security agencies have confirmed that the blackout is the result of a concerted attack on Europe’s power systems.’ He paused and took a sip of water before continuing. ‘This will have dire and far-reaching consequences for all member states. You are, I am sure, familiar with the report “Endangerment and Vulnerability of Modern Societies – as seen in the example of a wide-reaching and long-lasting failure of the power supply” that the Committee on Education, Research and Technology Assessment presented in spring 2011.’

  Not a chance anyone here’s read it, thought Michelsen. On the wall opposite where the ten satellite delegates looked out, a vast screen came to life, showing edited television reports from the past few days, followed by a montage of photos featuring a dark, deserted supermarket. This was Michelsen’s cue. As the chancellor announced that he would now hand over to the acting head of civil protection and crisis management, she rose to her feet. Behind her, the screen filled with images of shipping containers being unloaded from cargo ships by huge cranes, freight trains hauling wagons, automated warehouses and cold-storage facilities.

  ‘As a result of the blackout, the entire manufacturing and delivery chain is at a standstill,’ Michelsen began.

  Pictures of large sheds with cows lined up in narrow metal stalls. ‘Take one of our staple foods: milk. The majority of our supplies come from industrial operations which rely on automated machines, not only for milking the thousands of cows they hold, but for heating and ventilation of the cowsheds where the herds are kept, and supplying feed. The larger firms have backup power systems that will hold up as long as they have diesel – a few days, in most cases. Some have their own autonomous power supply – not that it will be much use to them. Because milk tankers cannot collect when they have no diesel.’

  Images of cars lined up outside a petrol station. ‘Refuelling is impossible when there is no electricity to pump fuel from the underground tanks. And even if the tankers could pick up the milk and transport it to the dairies, the machines there are idle.’

  Images of inactive processing plants – shining metal pipes, stalled conveyor belts.

  ‘Products that had been processed before the outages are stockpiled in cold-storage facilities. These – you guessed it – cannot refrigerate goods without power. Again, many have backup systems, but they need fuel to keep them running. Again, there’s the problem of transportation. Without fuel, goods cannot be transported from the warehouses to the stores. And speaking of warehouses …’

  She called up the relevant images.

  ‘Modern manufacturing relies on stopover facilities, where goods are stored for twenty-four hours; most of these are already empty. Supermarkets are completely reliant on electronics; the entire ordering and storage system is run by computer. Doors are designed to open and close automatically – provided there is electricity. Cash registers and checkout conveyer belts cannot function. Most of the staff can’t get to work because there’s no public transport and their cars have no fuel.’

  She sensed some of the delegates were about to raise objections and hurried to forestall them. ‘Yes, doors still can be opened manually. Money can still be exchanged for goods. But the volume of demand will be such that there is a danger of rioting and looting breaking out. Most supermarkets dare not open under these circumstances.’

  She called up images of dairy cows penned in milking machines.

  ‘To return to the problems facing milk producers: farmers can deal with only a fraction of the herd by hand. The vast majority of cows have therefore gone unmilked for two days. Even if we were able to supply backup generators within the next couple of hours, for many it would already be too late. Millions will suffer agonizing deaths as their swollen udders lead to glands becoming infected – that’s if they haven’t already starved, suffocated or died of thirst. And we can’t even slaughter them to put them out of their misery because we lack both the means and the manpower.

  ‘It’s the same story across Europe, in every form of industrialized agriculture. Millions of chicks and hens will either freeze or starve to death. In industrialized vegetable and fruit cultivation, the failure of watering, heating and lighting systems will cause crops to fail and firms will be forced into bankruptcy as a result. That means a critical situation for food supply in the medium term as well – even if we manage to resolve the outage within the next few days. The disruption the industry has already suffered will lead to many businesses failing.’

  She stopped to give her listeners the opportunity to digest the implications. If they thought they’d heard the worst, they were mistaken.

  ‘As you have just seen, effects in one area spill over into the next. This is especially true where the water supply is concerned. In many regions, the pumping stations have shut down so there is no running water. Even if we can find a way to supply drinking water, without which millions will die, water is needed for a number of other purposes, including – to name one of the most, literally, burning needs – putting out fires. So long as the power remains out, the risk of fires caused by short circuits in homes and industries does go down, but there will be an exponential increase in blazes caused by people lighting fires to cook or keep warm. In the industrial sector – especially where chemicals are involved – the failure of emergency and safety systems will lead to an increase in fires.

  ‘And then there’s the hygiene problem. Imagine a high-rise apartment building in which no one can use the toilet, but has to go anyway. In no time at all, our cities will be ravaged by epidemics such as cholera that will kill thousands. We have only one hope of preventing this: we must begin large-scale evac
uations into emergency shelters immediately. In the initial phase alone we are talking about more than twenty million people.’

  Shocked silence filled the room. Everyone stared at the screen, where Michelsen showed images from emergency shelters housing victims of the flooding in New Orleans and the Japanese earthquake of 2011. Gymnasiums, meeting halls, convention centres, indoor stadiums, with thousands of makeshift beds and long lines of people queuing for food and water. Germany was no stranger to such images, on such a scale, but only in black and white – people in dated clothes in television documentaries of a war that most of those present hadn’t been alive to experience, it was so long ago. And none of them had thought they would ever live to see such images in their own time. ‘I will now hand you over to my colleague from the Ministry of Health, Mr Torhüsen.’

  Michelsen sat down with a sigh as Torhüsen began to address the assembly. ‘Generally speaking, European health systems are among the best in the world. We are well prepared, even for crises – but not for a crisis on this scale. Allow me to describe what is happening out there as we speak, right here in Germany. First, we’ve got the hospitals …’

  Images of patients lying on gurneys in corridors, sitting on floors in A&E, wards with no spare capacity.

  ‘The sudden onset of the outages resulted in a high number of road accidents and injuries, causing a surge in demand for beds and medical care.’

  Images of intensive-care units, beds surrounded by tubes and monitors and machines. Operating theatres crammed with technology. ‘Our hospitals have backup generators, but as Ms Michelsen has pointed out, these depend on fuel which will have to be conserved. Resources for intensive-care units will have to be cut back, likewise neonatal divisions.’

  At the sight of the red, wrinkled babies in glass incubators, skin so transparent you could see every little vein, Michelsen’s throat constricted.

  ‘Rescue workers and paramedics are hopelessly overburdened as it is. Doctors can’t get to their surgeries or their patients without transport. Patients struggle to obtain the medication they need because pharmacies are facing the same problems as supermarkets. Those with chronic conditions – diabetics, patients with heart disease – are particularly hard hit. Access to dialysis machines has become impossible for many patients whose kidneys cannot function without assistance. We are threatened here with hundreds if not thousands of human casualties.’

  Michelsen realized that she was biting her lower lip. A year before she had witnessed a friend’s slow death from an incurable nerve disease. How horrible this helplessness must be for patients – and for their loved ones – especially knowing there was a treatment that could save them, if only it were available.

  ‘Nursing homes and assisted-living facilities will turn into death traps – I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to describe it. Aside from medical machinery ceasing to function, there will be no heating, no cooking facilities, no running water, no laundry facilities. Many of the staff won’t be able to get to work. Those that do will be completely overwhelmed.’

  ‘My God,’ whispered a voice.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Michelsen tried to see who had let out this exclamation. To judge from their pale expressions, it could have been anyone in the room. Many of them probably had parents in care homes and took for granted that their care would be guaranteed for the remainder of their lives.

  ‘We need to ensure at least a rudimentary provision for public health, and the most severely ill. And we need it immediately. This includes, among other things, setting up medical centres equipped to deal with dire cases and epidemics, emergency directives for dispensing medication and every means of support that we can get from the army’s medical units. To this end, we are currently finalizing a plan of action. Rolf?’

  Torhüsen sat down, and Rolf Viehinger, leader of the Interior Ministry’s public security division, got to his feet.

  ‘Crises,’ he began, ‘often bring out the best in people. In the past forty-eight hours, many in need have found Good Samaritans coming to their aid. The Red Cross, the fire department and other agencies have been inundated with volunteers offering their services. But let’s not kid ourselves: the longer these circumstances last, the weaker these structures will become. To borrow a phrase from Britain’s MI5: “We’re four meals away from anarchy.” As people see the lives of their families and loved ones threatened by deprivation, they will turn from rallying to the aid of others and begin fighting to protect their own. We must be prepared for civil unrest, and to safeguard our citizens from criminal activity.

  ‘Security personnel have been informed that all leave is cancelled with immediate effect. Even so, we will need support from the state police and the army.’

  ‘In a civilian capacity, or militarily as well?’ asked the environmental minister.

  ‘Whatever circumstances demand,’ the interior minister answered curtly.

  ‘I thought most districts were energy autonomous,’ said the foreign minister.

  ‘In practically every case, energy autonomous means independence not in actual but accounting terms,’ State Secretary Rhess jumped in. ‘Under normal operating conditions, these municipalities might indeed produce more electricity than they themselves use, saving them from having to buy power from elsewhere. But without the grid, their energy production is of no use to them – they simply don’t have the capacity to establish a stable grid in miniature.’

  ‘So you’re saying they can still produce power, but they can’t deliver it to users?’ the minister asked in disbelief.

  ‘Precisely. The same applies to the larger power plants,’ affirmed Rhess.

  The chancellor took the floor before any other questions could be put. ‘I suggest we take a short break. Let’s stretch our legs and in ten minutes we’ll resume.’

  Everyone stood up, the smokers racing to the lifts to get outside. Michelsen noticed no one reached for their mobile phones, as the multitaskers would ordinarily have done at such a moment. By now everyone had received the message that the cellular network was out of action.

  Paris, France

  Shannon had walked clear across the city, over the Île de la Cité and finally to Gare du Nord. Street lamps, traffic signals and the lights in most of the buildings were out; the only light came from the headlights of cars. It was shortly after 10 p.m. by the time she reached the train station, and here too it was almost completely dark, except for the odd flickering emergency light. Clusters of people crowded around the entrance to the station’s main hall. In dim half-light the stranded travellers had converted the hall into an emergency shelter. Everywhere she looked there were people sitting or lying on the floor, children fretting and wailing. Despite the cold, a musty smell hung in the air that carried a hint of faeces.

  The arrivals and departures boards were blank. Shannon picked her way through the bodies to the far side of the hall until she found a placard on which she could faintly make out the sign for buses. She followed the arrow out of the building to a terminal where buses were lined up one after the other. There were lines of people clutching their bags, searching, waiting. It took her ten minutes to find the bus to The Hague.

  ‘Oui, La Haye,’ the driver responded to her question.

  ‘Where do I get a ticket?’

  ‘Today, from me. The ticket windows are closed. Fifty-six euros. Cash only.’

  Shannon paid and made her way to the back row, where there were two remaining seats. She stowed away her rucksack in the rack and took the seat by the window. What an idiotic idea this was, she told herself. But there was no going back now. At least inside the bus it was warm. The driver turned on the engine and moments later the bus lurched into motion.

  Shannon folded her down jacket and stuck it between the window and her head to use as a pillow.

  Outside, the shadows of the city glided past her. At some point the silhouettes grew fainter, the landscape vanished into almost complete darkness under a starless, moonless sky. Shannon s
tared into the gloom and thought of nothing at all.

  Berlin, Germany

  ‘Money rules the world, as the saying goes,’ State Secretary Rhess opened his presentation.

  Nice, thought Michelsen, throwing these words at people in government. She wouldn’t have thought he had the guts.

  ‘The question is, who rules when there is no money?’

  Tense, they waited to find out where he was going with this.

  ‘So long as the backup generators are working, customers can withdraw cash. And the supply of cash will continue for as long as the security vans transporting money can get fuel. After three or four days, however, every bank in the country will be closed. Look in your own wallets: how much cash do you have on you? Once the supply of cash dries up, companies won’t be able to pay salaries, no one will be able to pay for goods.

  ‘The European Central Bank and the clearing houses that process financial transactions will open tomorrow – but the markets will close early. As soon as news gets out that the pan-European blackout was caused by a deliberate attack that breached our defences, markets all over the world will experience a bloodbath. The value of European companies will plummet, many will fall victim in the coming months to hostile takeovers by foreign firms. To say nothing of the collapse of all those small and mid-sized businesses which lack the resources to survive such losses.’

  Michelsen saw people shaking their heads in disbelief.

  ‘And there is one more pressing matter we have yet to touch upon: communication. The emergency networks are struggling to cope. The satellites are overburdened, as is the Internet. We have already had to introduce bandwidth-rationing, giving priority to state and emergency services.

  ‘It will take two days for the army to set up a provisional network. In the meantime, we are launching an initiative to enlist the aid of amateur radio operators. Their equipment is relatively robust, but even so their usefulness will be short-lived since most will have no means of recharging their batteries.