Lines don't announce themselves.
They appear when pretending not to see becomes harder than choosing a side.
The city woke precise again—clean schedules, measured steps, practiced compliance. It wore relief like a tailored coat. The canopy glowed. The signboard spoke. The coordinators nodded at numbers that behaved.
Everything was back in place.
Except the people who weren't.
Arjun felt it as we crossed the street."It's quieter," he said."Not peaceful. Quieter."
"Yes," I replied."Silence is cheaper than care."
✦
The first test didn't come from the margins.
It came from the middle.
A delivery driver collapsed near the transit stop—not dramatic, not sudden. Just a knee buckling, a hand braced against metal, breath hitching.
People noticed.
They always do when someone falls where the flow matters.
Two volunteers moved instinctively—then stopped. One glanced at the signboard. Another scanned for a coordinator.
Seconds passed.
The driver tried to stand.
Failed.
