Page 129 of Pocket Wife

“Yes.”

Noll says, “Allowed. One statement.”

Rethan keeps his eyes on the board, not on me.

“The old water rules prioritized gradual pressure equalization. If the gate is forced fully open, the lower tower may fail. Open by thirds. Wait for the pipe to sing before the next turn.”

My hand tightens on the doorframe.

The pipe to sing.

I remember Samuel saying that when I was a child. I thought it was superstition.

Noll says, “Noted.”

Sen’s face is sour with the smallness of the statement she failed to prevent.

I finally allow myself one glance at Rethan.

Only one.

His eyes hold no plea, no fear I can afford to carry. Only certainty.

Open by thirds.

Wait for the pipe to sing.

I leave.

The path to the east gate cuts behind the schoolhouse, across the lower seed beds, and down into the old stone channel where moss grows thick over the shaded banks. The field workers keep pace. The schoolteacher holds the live slate in both hands, its record light shining red.

Behind me, the meeting hall feeds instructions through Jessa.

Ahead, the east gate waits.

At first, it looks untouched.

Then I reach the stone arch and see the new Helix marker fixed to the bank.

My steps slow.

The marker is not on the gate.

It is on the land around it.

Temporary Humanitarian Shelter Boundary.

Property of Helix Humanitarian Continuity Services.

I read the sign.

No.

The shelter plateau does not merely sit beyond the evacuation radius.

It covers the old east channel access.

My comm crackles.