I squinted at the bumper sticker on the car in front of me, a small, two-door Nissan:


There was something deeply disturbing about that. People didn’t love their electric corporations. At best, they were indifferent toward them; electricity was the sort of thing no one noticed until it wasn’t working properly. And even then, the emotion at play was white-hot rage, not love. No one commended a utility for producing particularly good electricity, a fine vintage amperage from a good year for coal.

What sort of person displayed, and proudly so, a bumper sticker like that? It was suspicious, unsettling.

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