Page 134 of Pocket Wife

The ridge plateau parcel.

The proposed evacuation radius.

The new boundary sign.

The old feeder.

Every line connects.

I look up. “Adjudicator.”

Sen closes her eyes briefly, as if already weary of me.

Salo says, “Safety clarification?”

“Yes.”

“Proceed.”

I project the overlay. “The Helix shelter parcel includes the old eastern feeder channel. Current records list it as inactive. Historical maps indicate it once diverted water from the east gate toward the ridge plateau during flood years.”

Lucy goes very still on the feed.

Noll asks, “Is that feeder currently active?”

Torren speaks before I can. “It should not be.”

“Should not be is not an answer,” Noll says.

Torren’s voice thins. “I’m checking.”

The field feed captures Lucy turning from the wheel toward the ridge. The schoolteacher follows with the slate. At first, nothing looks wrong. Just grass, stones, survey stakes, and the neat white Helix marker.

Then water moves where no water should move.

A narrow channel of wetness appears beneath the shelter boundary post, darkening the soil in a line toward the ridge plateau.

Lucy’s expression closes around the hurt.

“Torren,” she says.

“I see it,” he answers.

Noll leans closer. “Explain.”

Torren’s words come clipped now. “The east channel is bleeding into the old feeder. Either the feeder was reopened or never fully sealed.”

I enlarge the contract overlay again. “The shelter parcel was chosen over a dormant feeder route.”

Sen says, “That is conjecture.”

Lucy walks toward the boundary marker and crouches beside the wet line. She pushes aside grass with two fingers.

A new coupling gleams beneath the soil.

Not ancient stone.

Modern alloy.