The Echo School started because a dozen kids cornered Atlas in the hub square one morning.
They were a mix of ex-Holdout children who had grown up under rigid drills and a handful of younger Zone-born who only knew stories about the old world. Even a few sheep lambs tagged along, bleating demands in their half-understood way.
"We need a place to learn stuff that isn't just surviving another day," said a girl named Mira, arms crossed. She was twelve, sharp-eyed, and carried a dented Order tablet like a shield.
"Not Order lessons. Not whatever chaos the Zone spits out when it feels like it. Real skills. Real stories. Something that sticks."
Atlas rubbed his jaw. Coherence had held steady at 93 for weeks now. The Zone felt less like it might unravel if someone sneezed wrong. "You want a school."
"Call it whatever. Just make it exist."
