The reporter was more than a little surprised to see the outfit the man was wearing when he opened the door.
It had a lot of wires.
“Hello, hello,” he said. “Please come in.”
The reporter held her microphone a little higher as if considering using it as a weapon. “Uh, sure.”
He smiled at her. “I’m sorry. I realize this all looks a little off. But, it keeps the lights on, literally.”
She did not comment, just followed along into the odd house. The furniture was spartan, to say the least, and there were a series of chords laying like thick boa constrictors across all surfaces. Most of them seemed to—one way or the other—link to the outfit the man was wearing.
“I know, I know—it’s a bit messy.” The man waved out his hand to one of the few chairs in the place. “Go ahead and sit there.”
The woman nodded and sat down. She looked around, feeling uncomfortable.
“So, then, I see you do believe in the stuff you said online?” she said.
“Of course, I do,” the man said, sitting in a folding chair he’d gathered from somewhere.
“You do know that it’s impossible, right?”
The man smirked. “I know what the scientists have been saying. But using the bodies’ natural electrical field is an old, old science. It works just a bit more for me.’
The reporter tilted her head. “So, you’re saying what? With all these wires…?”
“I am saying I am powering this whole place. These wires attach to pads stuck to my chest and head and back. It powers all you see.”
The reporter leaned forward in her chair. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
He smiled at her. “I would love to.”
With a flick of his foot, he pushed at the switch on a power strip and the whole room went dark.
“That proves nothing,” she responded, squinting in the dark. “That could have linked to something. A different battery.”
“Interesting theory,” he said, and the room burned back to lighted vision.
The reporter cleared her eyes and found the man placing his finger into the same power strip. He’d severed the usual input chord. The power strip was not attached to the wall, not connected to anything but his body and the lights around the room.
“But I have a better one. I am electric. My stress is electric.”
The reporter could only stare back.
“Shit,” she eventually said.
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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