70 years from now, the roads of London are empty and the sun is low in the sky, a cool evening breeze washes away the heat of the day. All save for a lone car charging at full speed through the arteries of the city. It turns down a street where people are relaxing, sitting outside and talking to each other, it's been another long day. As if compelled by the atmosphere of the place it skids to a stop.

And then it starts blaring it's horn.

The people on the street who were previously relaxing are startled, but unafraid. A man steps out of the car while somebody from a house rushes up to greet him.
    "News from Paris?" An onlooker calls out, and the driver can only barely contain his smile.
    "News from Paris lad!" The driver is ecstatic, and turns to look at his approaching interlocutor.
    "What do they need?", is all the runner can get out, clearly out of breath.
    "They are well, they are very well, but power keeps going out, their government still controls most of it. People aren't freezing thankfully, but it would help if they could get their relays back online so we don't have to keep sending people back and forth."
    "Do we have any to spare? I know that it's been rocky getting things restarted over here."
    Someone else interjects, "I know someone at the grid! There were talks about some kind of deal with Iceland." A warm feeling washes over\ the people present, this is how things are meant to be. The runner turns to the driver, smiling.\     "Could you go to the headquarters? Let them know?"
The driver turns to the person who spoke up, "Will you come with me?"\

Inside the ex-headquarters for the national grid, a georgian-fronted building carved up by respectably capitalist panes of glass, a much fouler mood hangs in the air. A large meeting hall has a scattering of people spattered across it, the mood is dour but comfortable. A once-present corporate spirit no longer haunts this room. Nobody is speaking, what could they say to what they've just heard?     "Hello?" buzzes the circular speaker in the centre of the room. "Did you hear what I said?"
    "Yes, thank you." The man sat closest to the speaker responds. He looks around the room, not that he needs to, he knows what their faces look like. "We're going to hang up now if that's alright." He doesn't wait for a response before hanging up, and just at that moment, a determined looking pair barge in.
    "Hello! Is this where national routing decisions are being made? We kept getting lost-" The optimism pierces itself through the meeting, it cuts between the seated members of the meeting. It is not a feeling that is compatible with what is to come, and as such it clatters helplessly against the walls, trailing off into silence./     "Not for long I'm afraid." whispers a husky voice from the back.
    "Oh I'm sorry, have we come at a bad time?"
    "No, no it's just." The woman looks at the two with as much pity as she can muster. "You might want to sit down for this."

On an unimportant street in London, the mood has settled down after the excitment earlier in the day. The smell of a soup pervades the air, not even the neighbouring streets are spared from it's intoxicatingly delicios smell. It's a beautiful day, why not cook outside. But even further than the smell echoes the sound of excited conversation.
    "Did I mention I have a cousin in Brittany? I'm excited to be able to cross the channel again!"
    "Oh that's wonderful! You'll have to introduce-" The chatter is interuped by a frantic looking woman rushing over, a communicator barely clinging to her fingers.
    "Everyone! Everyone!" She's barely holding back tears, but stops herself. There is something beautiful here, something which has never existed before. She turns away for a second, wiping her eyes. 5 minutes they said, not much that could be done in that time anyway. "They sorted the deal with Iceland, Paris's power is back on!"

A roar comes across the people present, a feeling of joy that has not existed like this for a long time. And not for the last time.