The Quiet Architects started small, like most things in the Free Zone.
A group of Reasonables put up signs for a community garden near the old supply depot. Nothing fancy. Just a patch of dirt where people could grow what they wanted without anyone telling them the rules.
Atlas watched from a distance the first day, arms crossed, while twenty or so residents showed up with shovels and mismatched seeds.
Elara stood next to him, her shoulder brushing his. "They look happy," she said.
"They do," Atlas replied. He didn't add that happiness in the Free Zone had a way of turning complicated fast.
By the next morning the garden had tripled in size. Paths curved where none had been planned. Vines climbed trellises that hadn't existed the night before.
Amrit, the ever-present system that held their reality together, had listened to the collective wishes and delivered. A little too well.
