The river flowed beneath the summer sun, while fields lay green beneath the open sky. The cooling towers stood beside the water, and no one knew the danger drawing nigh. Inside the plant, the warning lights awakened, machines began to falter, bells began to cry. A hidden failure moved through steel and water, while fear grew slowly underneath the sky. The people watched the river, watched the towers, wondering what the distant sirens meant. The air was still, the fields were strangely quiet, while something unseen through the valley went. And Three Mile Island seemed to hold its silence: the river kept on flowing, cold and wide, the birds still crossed the fields above the island, while fear and uncertainty moved with the tide. And so the name remained upon the memory, a warning written softly in the land: that power can become a dangerous shadow when human confidence forgets what it commands.
