Quick, now that the mayor's speech is over. You turn off the TV, cut the lights. You crawl to the circuit breaker that you wisely installed up here in your living room for easy access and you throw the main breaker switch and cut all the electricity in your house. Now, secret generators silently whir to life underground in the backyard. Your personal defense system has been really your only hobby for a while now, and you feel like it's about as good as you can get it, so on some level you have to acknowledge that you sort of wish your enemies would try to break in, stage some final confrontation. Not because you'd get pleasure watching them die. Just because you're confident that if they choose today to invade your home, they've no hope of getting out alive. You pull a shotgun with a wooden stock and an eleven-inch barrel out of that secret sofa gun safe over there and you put on your night-vision goggles and load the gun and stare out the front window of the house from a secret shadowy vantage point in the foyer.
You try to remember what the mayor said, but you never had a good memory for words. You remember how it felt to hear him talk, and this steadies you somewhat. You will wait steadfast all night if you have to. Peeking out the windows with your illegal shotgun.