Chapter Fifty-Four – The Cost of Watching
The city moved under a pale morning sky, clouds drifting like unsettled thoughts. Horizon Gate's towers still gleamed, but inside them, tension had become routine. It no longer shocked anyone when systems stalled or departments misaligned. Unease had settled into the culture like dust.
Xinyue studied the newest internal metrics in silence.
Late arrivals were up. Sick leave requests had doubled. Staff were backing up files onto personal devices — subtle signs of people preparing for instability.
Jun sent a quiet update: "They're assigning physical security teams to sensitive floors now. Not guards — observers."
"Observers are more dangerous than guards," Xinyue replied. "They look for patterns. But they don't know what patterns matter."
By afternoon, she visited a public data lounge near the transit hub. From a corner seat, she watched employees pass through — faces tired, shoulders tense, conversations clipped. Everyone was watching everyone.
A man she didn't recognize took the seat two chairs away. He didn't speak. Didn't move much. But his reflection in the glass tracked her faintly.
She finished her tea slowly.
Then she stood and left.
When she checked the camera overlay from her phone, the man had already disappeared.
A watcher who didn't want to be remembered.
Back at her apartment, she reviewed a message from a Horizon Gate operations coordinator — nervous, cautious, indirect.
We're being told to report each other. People are scared. What do you want from us?
Xinyue typed only one line in response:
Stability.
That night, another quiet resignation appeared in the internal system.
The cost of watching was beginning to show.