THE first thing the city wanted to do was answer politely.
That was how the voice was built.
Kim's old archive tone came through every public-holder phone, every chamber desk, every borrowed mirror still carrying the request chain.
"Just say yes."
Soft.
Helpful.
Patient.
The kind of voice that made panic feel rude.
In South Ward, someone started to answer.
Mira Sol cut the wall speaker with a broom handle and shouted over the broken crackle.
"Say anything else."
That became the first rule.
Not a good rule.
A living one.
People said names.
Routes.
Dead relatives.
Inventory lists.
Nari Lin said, "Avo owed me a charger," so sharply that four nearby holders repeated their own debts instead of the word waiting in their mouths.
Tov Ren screamed three different curses and one wrong street name.
Halden's widow recited the first line of a grocery list.
The voice prompt listened.
AGREEMENT CANDIDATES DETECTED: 8,412.
SYNCHRONIZATION WINDOW OPEN.
