Page 133 of Pocket Wife

Torren checks the pressure reading. “Stable. Hold for thirty seconds.”

Thirty seconds becomes a lifetime measured in water.

Noll watches the data. Salo watches Noll. Sen watches Lucy. Corvek watches everyone.

I watch the map.

Something bothers me.

The Helix boundary does not only cover the spillway. It curves along the old channel’s service path, then cuts upward to the ridge plateau. Not following modern construction access. Following an older buried line.

I magnify the old map.

A feeder channel.

Abandoned on current records.

Not abandoned in stone.

My pulse slows.

“Second third,” Torren says.

Lucy and the field worker pull again.

This time the wheel moves easier. Too easy for the first quarter turn, then hard enough to make Lucy’s boots slide against the moss. The second worker braces behind her without touching until she nods permission. Together they bring the wheel to the second mark.

The pipe sings again.

Lower now.

Deeper.

The meeting hall board updates as Jessa receives Torren’s figures.

East channel pressure: active.

Lower tower intake: rising.

Clinic flow estimate: pending.

Nara presses both hands over her mouth.

Lucy checks the live slate. “Do we have clinic flow?”

Torren answers, “Not yet. Lower tower needs third stage before it gets enough pressure.”

Samuel leans over his map. “Wait for the second tone to settle. If the old rule holds, the channel has to fill before the last turn.”

Lucy nods.

She waits.

I wait too, but my mind is no longer only at the gate.

It is on the buried feeder line.

I overlay Helix’s shelter acquisition contract.