HOW TO EXPERIENCE THIS STORY The experience begins with an immersive dramatization and concludes with a scientific analysis. It will take approximately 20 minutes to complete. Navigate by scrolling down. Background media will start and stop automatically unless play controls are present. Turn up your volume and wear headphones for an optimal experience.

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Your browser doesn't support audio. Lights Out A dramatization of disaster, and the science behind it. (Click for video )

Eighteen hours before the power went out, scientists reported an enormous solar flare. Airlines rerouted our flights over the poles and local officials warned us not to rely on GPS. Public service announcements urged everyone to stockpile three days’ worth of water and food – anything that doesn’t require electricity to store or prepare. Somehow, the grid was in danger. I already had three days’ worth of ramen, assuming I could build a fire in front of my apartment complex. But I went out for some better provisions.

Your browser doesn't support audio. The grocery store was slammed. There wasn’t any water left. Canned goods were practically gone too, as was the peanut butter. And forget about batteries. I came home with a bag of Brazil nuts, coconut butter, bread, a bag of apples, a box of raisins and cereal. The only candles left were enormous pine-scented pillars. I bought one. For water, I filled up old pop bottles that I had been neglecting in the back of my car, so I’m way ahead of the three gallons mandated by Ready.gov. Speaking of my car, I waited through a two-hour line to fill up my gas tank. The road was practically blocked with everyone trying to fuel up. I waited another hour at the bank. The ATM was empty. By the time I got to the desk, they were capping cash withdrawals, and they were out of small bills.

At home, I filled up my bathtub for more emergency water. Then, I trawled the web to find out what the heck was happening with the sun and the grid. A video newscast with a space weather researcher explained what was about to hit Earth.

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Your browser doesn't support audio. The messages were mixed. On the radio, representatives from FEMA warned that the storm could lead to rolling blackouts. There’s nothing rolling about this, at least not yet.

And there were others on the tech blogs sounding like this was the apocalypse or something. No refrigeration, no financial system, no transportation as gas pumps won’t work. For years. It sounds crazy, but when I looked a little closer, I started to worry. It seemed to come down to transformers - large pieces of electrical equipment that the power goes through before and after running down long-distance power lines. Apparently, because the wires between the transformers are hundreds of miles long, the movement of the Earth’s magnetic field can cause significant current to build up in the wires. When this current adds to that already in a transformer, it can cause the transformer to overheat and generally take it out. These transformers take more than six months to make, and there are no spares. At least, that’s what the apocalypse bloggers were saying. Something called “The Carrington Event” came up again and again. It was a huge solar storm in 1859, which sent aurorae down to the tropics and created havoc on the telegraph system, lighting paper on fire and giving operators electric shocks. I would have taken it as a cute historical anecdote if we didn’t have a similar-sized storm coming our way, with a network of power lines stretching for hundreds of miles across the U.S. I found this quote from some professor named Thomas Overbye at the University of Illinois: “Some people say the transformers will not be permanently damaged, others think they will...For some, it’s just a bad day or bad couple days. Others think it could be catastrophic.” Your browser doesn't support audio.

So here I am, hoping it’s just a bad day or two. I tried calling my parents, but I couldn’t get through. The cell networks must have been overloaded. When my eyes glazed over from staring at my computer screen, I crawled into bed to get some sleep. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, playing through all the things that might go wrong.

The Outage: Day One The northern lights were so bright that I woke up at 3:57 AM. At least, that’s what my clock said seconds before it went dark. I figured a show like this only comes along once in a lifetime, so in spite of the chill in the spring night air, I went outside to watch the colors over the city until the sun drowned them out. I didn’t feel like going back to sleep, and I didn’t have to go to work. We were told not to come in if the power was out. So I took a walk around my quiet town. Only a few people were out in cars. I guess a lot of us are aware that it might be a long time before we can fill up again.

Your browser doesn't support audio. When I got back to my apartment complex, I saw my neighbor outside. “At least this place still uses real keys, right?” she said, waving her key ring. “They’re propping doors open down the road.” “Any news about when they’re going to get the power back up?” She shook her head. “You know how they are. They say they’re working on it, but no time frame. The water stopped running an hour ago.” I nodded. I was glad for my stockpiled bottles.

With nothing better to do, I made myself an enormous salad with the contents of my fridge as today’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. By tomorrow, I won’t trust it. I putzed around the rest of the day, thinking of odd jobs to do that didn’t require electricity and waiting for news.

Day Two Last night, there were still some northern lights, but they were pale. They were gone by morning. I went out for a walk. I thought about going to a friend’s apartment, but it’s five miles and it looked like it might rain in the afternoon. (It did.) Actually, I think I would have ridden my bike over if I could have texted to make sure she was there, but there’s still no service. So I just strolled around.

On my way back, I ran into my neighbor again. She said that there was a radio station broadcasting on backup power, and they were talking to experts about what exactly was going on. I went to her apartment an hour later, and we listened to her radio alarm clock, running on backup batteries.

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I guess the power companies might just be taking stock after the storm knocked the grid offline. If that’s the case, we can expect to see the lights on again any time now. I felt a little better, but the expert also confirmed that the power could be out for weeks or months. I went back to my apartment to take stock. I could survive for another week with what I had, easily. But after that? And what would my neigborhood look like by the end of the week? And the state? The country?

Because I’m trying to save my computer and phone batteries for a moment when they might be useful, I’ve had nothing to do but read the articles I didn’t have time for in last month’s magazines. And, for a change, I write this. I go to bed when the pine scent starts giving me a headache.

Your browser doesn't support audio. Day Three It felt like the whole city was waiting around for news. I’d heard so many things – that power would be up again in a couple of days, that all of Michigan was without power, that the entire country was down, that it was the end times and Jesus was coming back. I rode my bike down to the police station to see if there was an official statement. Your browser doesn't support audio. The station was getting news over the phone. Apparently they still had landline access. It wasn’t that the entire country was without power, but a lot of it was. In the far north of Michigan, electricity was reported in some areas. To the south, the nearest electricity was supposedly on the west side of Illinois. From Maine to Georgia, the power was out. It was spotty in the heartland and Southwest, but at least there was some electricity.

I thought about Hurricane Katrina. How long until desperation set in in Ann Arbor? And how long until FEMA would reach a smallish city like this, when most of the east coast was down? I heard that the hospital generators had run out of fuel. So much for life support. People who needed medications couldn’t get them from the pharmacies because the prescription data was all stored on hard drives. Not that they were getting new shipments of medication, anyway. I walked by the co-op, which was open on a cash basis, selling formerly frozen food on the cheap and running out of nearly everything else. A cashier quietly gave me change for a hundred dollar bill. How long before someone will rob that place? How much longer will I be safe on the streets as a lone, unarmed person? I’m still writing by candlelight, like Charles Dickens or Laura Ingalls Wilder or something.

It’s time to skip town. I tried calling my parents from a rare working payphone. No one answered. I considered leaving immediately, but there was a good chance others had the same idea. I know what the highway north can be like when everyone is trying to leave town, and it’s not like I can check the traffic. To minimize wasted gas, I slept through the afternoon and evening. Around two in the morning, I loaded up my car with the essentials—food, water, basic medical supplies, blankets and clothes. And a couple of kitchen knives, as if they’d actually do me any good if I was attacked.

Without my flashlight, it was pitch black except for a glow over the trees. I wondered if some hold-out still had fuel for a generator, as even campus had gone dark by now. But as I drove past, I could see flames leaping from a burning building. No water pressure, no fire service to help when someone knocked over a candle. The journey north was otherwise uneventful. A few cars, the stars, and me. The one working radio station was giving the same emergency message I had heard from the police station. “The utilities and government agencies are working around the clock to restore power. Remain calm. Now is the time for the nation to come together. Help your neighbors in need. FEMA and the National Guard will soon be distributing aid in the affected areas.” Stuff like that. On the third run-through, I switched it off. I probably should have offered someone the chance to come with me. My parents live in a small farm town. Perhaps I can stay there and work for our neighbors in return for food. They’ll need help with planting if they can’t run their machinery. Or perhaps we will continue north and try to escape the blackout. I really don’t know.