Someone must have made an error, for one afternoon, even though Karl O. has always paid the bills on time, the lights in the apartment flickered, then went out. O. reluctantly put down his kindle, and climbed down the stairs. There were no other tenants in the entrance hall, but some of the other apartments had their lights on. He checked the fuse, which looked fine. He went back up, called Mr. Pinelo, the landlord, who without expressing sympathy, agreed to call the commission and report the problem. A few minutes later, he texted what O. assumed was a question from the commission, "Is it the whole building or just you?" "Just my apartment". A few more minutes passed and another message arrived, "Please send me a copy of your electricity bill". O. complied. Soon after, another message "Please go down to the electricity panel, and make sure that the meter is connected well." O. considered this a waste of time, but he did not want to upset the landlord nor the commission, and went down again. He shook the meter in all directions and texted back that the meter is secure. This time, Mr. Pinelo called back, "I reported the problem; they said they will come between an hour and ten hours from now, but usually they are prompt."
A couple of hours passed, while O. continued his reading. As evening was setting in, He lit a candle which tonight, perhaps affected by the novel's sinister atmosphere, made O. feel depressed rather than cozy. He called the commission's customer care center. The woman on the line offered to help. O asked her for the cause of the blackout, but she did not have an answer; "I am sure it is not a error. It is very rare for the commission to make an error. In fact, I don't know of any instance when that happened." As for the repair, her reply was short, "I am sorry, but we cannot tell you when the technicians will come. We do not have the information at this location." She did provide him with a 15-digit serial number of his case. An hour or so later, O. logged on to the customer care website. After entering his case number, came the automated reply "Your case is in process." O. extinguished the candle, and went to bed.
He woke up fresh and energized until an unresponsive light-switch reminded him of the situation. After a cup of coffee, which did not make him feel any better, he called the customer center again. This time a man answered "Our records indicate that the technician came, but could not enter the premises". O. agreed that it could happen, as all tenants are advised to lock the front gate at night. "But why didn't he call me?" The clerk did not reply. Instead, he advised O. that he reactivated the case. "When will they come?". "Between an hour and 10 hours" was the reply. O. was getting impatient. "That is already 20 hours since I heard the same answer" "I understand, and I am very sorry for the delay." O. was getting angry but realized that if he loses his patience, his situation will only get worse. "Can you be more specific?" The clerk explained that since they are a national center, they do not have information on the operations of each city. He advised O. to visit the local commission office. O held no hope of getting a better response in the local office, but realized that he had no other option. He dressed and went down.
In the entrance he met Mrs. Gonzales. "You don't have electricity?"; "Did you pay your bill?" O. replied that he did. "Then you must go to the commission." she said gravely, and quickly left. O. checked the fuse once again. He also looked to see if there are any outstanding bills in his mailbox. There were none. While doing so, he felt that he was being observed from inside the other apartments. He went out.
The city's commission office was a small unmarked building in a narrow alley; almost hidden among the various auto repair shops. A guard, wearing a wrinkled white shirt stood in front of the open door. The interior was dark, and O. could not see inside. He asked for permission to enter. "Do you have an appointment?" O. replied that he did not. "Then you can not enter now." replied the guard. "When could I go In?" asked O. "Not now", said the guard. Despite the hot sun, O. stood by the door, determined not to lose his spot. Some time passed, someone exited the office, and the guard motioned for O. to enter. Inside, another guard, wearing a white shirt which fit too tightly around his bulging stomach, directed O towards an empty chair. Once seated O. looked around the room. People were seated side by side along the walls, in a line that extended from O. towards a glass partition, as in a bank. They sat in silence, some ruffling through documents, others staring at nothing. A slow moving fly kept buzzing the guard's face, who seemed not to notice and absentmindedly brushed it away. "Are all the people here without electricity?" O. asked the person next to him. His neighbor signaled for O. to lower his voice, "Yes" he said. "how long will it take to reach the front of the line?" "It is impossible to know." replied his neighbor in a whisper. "I have been here many times, and each time it is different. Sometimes each applicant takes only a minute or less to conclude his business, at other times the line drags for ever. Be careful; don't ask too many questions or you may be asked to leave the room. Better be quiet..." He concluded, and fell silent again. 'This office is strange,' thought O., 'but I have to adapt if I want my electricity back. I should not lose my temper. If I stay calm and logical, they are bound to see their error.' Meanwhile, the front applicant presented his documents, and left the room. He was replaced by the next in line. Consequently each one of the applicants silently moved one seat to their left.
As the line progressed, O. could observe the clerk. She was an attractive woman, and that made O. feel better. He was good at connecting with women. However, as the wait dragged on, the oppressive heat in the office began to affect him. He was sweating profusely, his heart was beating hard, and a headache soon ensued. Any hope he previously held of a romantic spark, faded away. When he finally reached the clerk he could hardly think clearly. "Can I help you?" she asked politely. O. proceeded to describe the problem. "May I have your account number?" O. provided these details as the clerk, without looking at him, typed into her computer. "Karl O.? Your report number, please" O. congratulated himself on having brought this information along. "I see here that our personnel could not enter the premisses." said the clerk as she typed. O. explained the circumstances. "Please be aware that you are not obligated to keep the gate open. However, if our personnel cannot enter, we cannot guarantee how soon they will come again." The stale air in the office in addition to the unbearable heat, made O feel at the point of collapse. "When should I expect them?" he asked. "Soon. Anytime between 1 hour and 24 hours from now." O. mentioned, in his most respectful manner, that the main office told him that the local branch could have a more exact estimate of the timing. The clerk stopped typing and with a reproachful tone asked O. "Our personnel is out in the field helping other customers. Do you expect them to suspend their work just to answer your questions?" O. was dizzy and weak. He apologized and stumbled out the room. Outside, he felt much better. 'That was a good meeting.' he thought. 'I made a good impression. Surely I will have light at home.'
Walking back, the street lamps were on, and the entrance hall was also lighted, but his apartment was still dark. O. lit the candle, and feeling too tired to cook dinner, settled in his couch. He picked up his kindle, but the story only made him anxious and paranoid. 'Tomorrow, I will visit the commission again.' he thought as he climbed to bed.
