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sir, but dealing with a presumptive natural disaster is beyond our scope. That being said, working in conjunction with FEMA and the state leaders of various emergency management agencies, we have developed a response plan. I’ll defer to Director Carter for an explanation of the specifics.”
    The President scowls. “Janice, your agency is going to be responsible for many of the actions that need to be taken. I don’t want you taking a backseat.”
    She lowers her eyes. “I understand, Mr. President. We’re ready to implement our portion of the plan.”
    The large screen fills with the face of Donald Carter, director of FEMA. A black man in his late fifties, he has the fleshy face and sagging chin of a lifelong government employee. He is well respected for his compassion and intelligence throughout the various FEMA agencies scattered around the country.
    â€œMr. President, we’re in contact with a majority of the nation’s power suppliers. We’ve asked them to reduce capacity to the bare minimum. They are reluctant to reduce supply below acceptable levels at the present time, but hope to phase down throughout the day. But, sir, they are expressing doubts about whether a switched-off grid is any less vulnerable.” The director pauses for a sip of water.
    â€œAs for the airlines, we’re asking them to ground all future flights. They’re not real happy, believing it to be a temporary problem.”
    â€œMr. President,” a voice says, interrupting. He glances up at the screen. “Was that you, Major Garcia?”
    â€œYes, sir. I believe all flights should be grounded now. Those that are in flight should be landed at the closest available airport.”
    The director of homeland security sits up erect in her chair. “We can’t strand these passengers hundreds or thousands of miles from their destinations—”
    â€œDirector Baker,” Major Garcia interrupts, “it’s better to be stranded than splattered all over the ground because the pilot can’t navigate or communicate.”
    President Harris holds up both hands. “Don, you’ve talked to some of the airline reps. What do you think?”
    â€œThey’ll squeal like a stuck pig, sir. But Major Garcia might have a valid point.”
    The President mulls over the options. “Janice, tell your people to give the airlines a three-hour window. That’ll allow most of the planes to reach their destination.”
    She nods and excuses herself from the table to make the call.
    President Harris turns back to the screen. “Don, what other good news do you have?”
    â€œCommunications are going to be a major problem, sir. There is a high probability that a majority of the satellites are vulnerable, just as has already happened with the NSA. There may not be a bird left in orbit, sir.
    â€œIn conjunction with the National Emergency Management Association, we’re trying to develop other lines of communication via high-frequency radio or some other type of system. I just completed a reread of the latest computer models of what might happen with such a large solar storm, and, sir, the outlook is dismal.”
    â€œ ‘Dismal’ doesn’t accurately describe it, Don. Dr. Blake, Major Garcia—any way to narrow the timeline for arrival of the main storm?”
    â€œIt’s just guesswork, sir,” Major Garcia says, “but I do think the seventeen-hour scenario is too generous.”
    â€œWhat’s your estimate?”
    She blots the sweat from her face. “Ten, maybe twelve hours.”
    â€œChrist, a few hours to prepare for an event we have no conception of,” the President mutters, but he’s overheard by everyone. “Dr. Blake, you seem well versed on what the effects of the storm might be. Explain what might happen to our power grids.”
    Sam Blake’s face fills the screen. “It’s not what might happen,