Sterling pointed to the signature on the document.
"Look at this. It's an emergency dispatch order, jointly signed by the Governor's Office of Pennsylvania, the Industrial Revival Alliance, and the National Energy Association. All the legal formalities are complete."
"Now, execute the order."
O'Connor looked at the signature.
It was William Saint Cloud's, as flamboyant as an artist's autograph.
O'Connor was almost certain that the playboy hadn't even glanced at the document's title when he signed it.
Let alone the definitions of "high-consumption commercial users" within the document.
'Round-the-clock central air conditioning? Server rooms?'
'How could that pathetic amount of power consumption possibly compare to the electric arc furnaces in Pittsburgh, roaring day and night?'
'This was obviously bullshit, just blatant political maneuvering.'
'But the problem is, the signature is right here.'
'This is the order.'
In this control room, procedural justice was paramount.
