The city tightens its grip on fear-doors locking sooner, footsteps quickening, warnings stacking upon one another like a fragile barricade against inevitability. They believe vigilance protects them. They believe their caution shifts the balance. They are wrong. I watch from above, tracing their adjustments, cataloging their desperate attempts at control. They do not know me. They do not understand me. I exist beyond their fear, beyond their speculation, beyond their reach. The process does not falter. The freeze-dryer hums steadily. The fingers are sealed-lined up, logged, perfectly arranged. Tomorrow, I will take another. Because fear does not matter. Only control does.
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