THE BLUE door stayed open.
That was how the city saw it.
Not the torn bus.
Not Jessa Venn kneeling in oil and glass with Mev Holt pressed against her chest.
Not Meri Dast in the red coat, shaking so hard her teeth clicked between every name she tried to repeat.
The feeds loved the door.
Mercy Civic Intake Annex C stood clean behind the wreckage, white light spilling over the dead front rows as if the room beyond had no opinion about what it had tried to take.
Soma muted three channels and failed to mute the fourth before the headline crawled across the kitchen wall.
BAY TWELVE FAILURE RAISES CENTER QUESTION.
Rina looked up from the live route channel with bloodless focus.
"Failure," she said.
No one answered her.
On the tunnel feed, Jessa wiped her sleeve across Mev Holt's face, smearing soot instead of clearing it.
"Say it again," Jessa said.
The girl's mouth worked.
Rina leaned toward the console.
