The lightning in these works began as a question. What if children, faced with a world very different from the one we know, discovered abilities that earlier generations had never needed? I had often heard people talk about the unexplored possibilities of the human mind. I was less interested in whether that idea was literally true than in where it could take the imagination. So I began creating children who could control electrical energy. At first, the lightning was something they discovered. They caught it, held it in their hands, fished for it, played with it, and explored what they could do with it. But as the world around them became more dangerous, that ability began to take on another purpose. What had started almost as play gradually became a tool for survival. The children learned to use the energy available to them. They adapted to conditions they had not created and found ways to make something dangerous useful. I never thought of them as superheroes. They are still children, curious, playful, serious, mischievous, and inventive. The extraordinary has simply become part of their everyday lives. What interests me is how naturally they accept it. What seems impossible to us becomes necessary to them, and eventually ordinary. The lightning is no longer simply something they can control. It is something they may need.