Page 126 of Pocket Wife

“Temporary residents may be converted to compensated relocation participants upon extension beyond thirty days.”

The hall goes still.

Jessa stops writing.

Nara looks down at her sleeping son as if Corvek has reached through the screen and touched him.

I turn to Corvek. “Your shelter is a contract with beds.”

Corvek does not flinch. “No resident is required to sign permanent relocation.”

“Not on the first day.”

“Temporary continuity requires paperwork.”

“Exile usually does.”

Reviewer Noll speaks before Sen can answer. “This review concerns immediate safety, not long-term contract validity. Voluntary shelter remains available but cannot be presented as neutral aid unless all conversion clauses are disclosed in plain language.”

Salo adds, “And any resident choosing shelter retains contested-resident status unless separately adjudicated.”

Corvek’s composure goes brittle.

A small win.

Not enough water.

I turn back to the board. “Household counts.”

Hands rise faster now. Fear has not disappeared, but it has direction. Jessa begins recording numbers as they come.

Hartwell upper tank: eighty liters.

Marris bakery reserve: forty-two, plus sealed wash barrels if filtered.

Venn household: twelve.

Ashby workshop: thirty and a tank Torren claims is “probably not lethal.”

“Write twenty,” I say.

Torren objects through the field feed. I ignore him.

More numbers follow. Some generous. Some painfully small. One household reports nothing and keeps its eyes on the floor. I mark them as needing delivery, not failure.

When the first count finishes, Jessa totals it twice.

“Household reserves available for shared emergency use: five hundred and eighty liters.”

Nara reads the clinic number.

Six hundred.

I do too.

Not enough.

Samuel comes to the board. “East channel can cover the gap if we reroute through the lower irrigation line.”