ALLIANCE CAPITAL — SEED SECURITY CHAMBER — DAWN
The room used to be a vault.
We had deliberately ruined that.
No dramatic pedestals. No sacred lighting. No single crystal case begging to be stolen by anyone with delusions and a speech prepared.
Now it looked like an argument had broken out between a census office and a military planning hall.
Maps everywhere.
Colored pins.
Transit logs.
Civic custody forms.
Lottery drums.
Seal presses.
Three exhausted clerks who had not expected "paperwork" to evolve into "reality preservation."
At the center of the room sat one of the mature seeds.
Quiet.
Steady.
Warm in a way that made the hair on my arm rise.
It no longer pulsed like the younger seeds had.
It just *was.*
Stable.
Present.
Infuriatingly important.
Sera stood over it, silver eyes narrowed.
"It feels... patient."
Ezra looked up from their instruments. "That's one word for it."
"What's another?"
"Judgmental."
"That too," Sera admitted.
