He felt it on a Wednesday morning.
Not through the World Threat Response.
Not through the Sovereign bonds.
Not through the between-space awareness he had been developing for three years.
Through the Domain.
The Domain that had been running through the Ashrow for three years, clean and honest and self-sustaining, the community anchoring itself, the virtuous cycle running, the between-space present as the dominant quality of the city.
The Domain changed.
Not expanded.
Not deepened in the way it had deepened when each blank multiplier joined it.
Something else.
The Domain became — continuous.
Not with itself.
With what was on the other side of the door.
He was in the kitchen when he felt it.
Set down his tea.
Stood.
Went outside.
The Ashrow.
The ordinary Wednesday morning.
People in the streets.
The children at the well.
The correction worker on her morning route.
The clinic queue forming.
Ordinary.
