The third alarm pulses again.
Predictive deviation spike.
“That one,” I say, focusing in. “That’s the part that matters.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means they forced a future,” I say. “Something that wasn’t supposed to happen… just did.”
Silence.
Then Lark’s voice comes through.
Calm.
Too calm.
“They’re trying to make me doubt the system.”
“Yes.”
“And they’re tying it to people getting hurt.”
“Yes.”
“So I stop trusting it.”
“Yes.”
A beat.
Then she says, softer:
“And start trusting fear instead.”
I close my eyes briefly.
“She’s not spiraling,” I tell Aaron.
There’s a shift in him I can hear.
“No,” he says.
“She’s locking in.”
14
Lark
Location: Safehouse
The window reflects more than it shows.
Dark outside.
Darker in.
I can see myself faintly in the glass—still, unmoving—but I don’t feel still.
