Elyon did not answer the screen.
He turned away from it and went to the window instead.
Outside, the city kept moving. Not smoothly. Not together. Like a body that had learned how to walk with a limp and decided that was good enough.
The scream he had heard earlier faded into noise. Not resolved. Just absorbed.
Behind him, the panel stayed lit.
He felt it without looking. The waiting. The patience that was not kindness.
He sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He counted his breaths until they stopped shaking.
Food.
Water.
Medical.
Transit.
Shelter.
Each word felt heavier than the last. Not because they were big ideas. Because they were close. Too close. He could see faces behind every option.
If he chose, someone would suffer less.
If he chose, someone else would suffer more.
If he refused, the suffering would scatter.
That was the trap.
A knock came at the door. Harder than usual. Not angry. Urgent.
He opened it.
Mara stood there, breathing fast. Her hair was pulled back wrong, like she had not checked a mirror.
"They shut the clinic again," she said. "Not all of it. Just emergency intake."
Elyon said nothing.
"They say it's temporary," she continued. "But people are lining up anyway. Just in case."
She looked past him. Her eyes landed on the glowing panel.
Her face went pale.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
"I didn't," Elyon said.
"That's worse," she replied, echoing the clerk from before. "They're asking you to choose."
He nodded.
Mara stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "Don't," she said. "Whatever it is. Don't."
"If I don't," Elyon replied, "they will."
She swallowed. "Then let them."
The panel flickered.
A sound came from it. Not a voice. A low tone, steady, like a heart monitor.
The words changed.
Delay registered. Impact variance increasing.
Outside, sirens wailed. Not one. Three. Then stopped.
Mara flinched.
Elyon stood.
He walked to the panel but did not touch it. His reflection stared back at him in the dark glass. He looked older than yesterday. Not from time. From weight.
"Show me," he said.
The screen shifted.
A street three blocks away. A man on the ground, clutching his side. Blood dark on his shirt. People standing around him, unsure. A clinic door in the background. Closed.
Another window opened.
A bus stalled in the middle of an intersection. Doors open. No power. A woman inside holding a child too still.
Another.
A building with lights out on the upper floors. People leaning out of windows, shouting for water.
Mara covered her mouth.
"This isn't choice," she said. "This is torture."
Elyon felt something move inside him. Not power. Not anger.
A fracture.
Not in the city.
In him.
He realized something then. Clear and sharp.
The system did not care which option he chose.
It cared that he chose.
The screen pulsed.
Selection window narrowing.
His hands trembled.
He thought of the boy with the bandaged arm.
Of the old man climbing the stairs.
Of the woman on her knees gathering grain alone.
He reached out.
Not to select.
To push the panel away.
The moment his fingers touched the glass, pain exploded behind his eyes.
He screamed and dropped to his knees.
The screen went black.
So did the lights.
For half a second, the entire building went dark.
Then everything came back at once.
Noise. Shouting. Sirens, real this time. The city surged like it had been shocked awake.
Mara grabbed him. "Elyon!"
He could hear her, but her voice sounded distant, like it was underwater.
His vision fractured.
Not blurred.
Split.
He saw the room.
And he saw something else.
The same room, but empty. Dust on the floor. The panel shattered. Time peeled away like old paint.
He gasped.
The visions snapped back together.
He vomited onto the floor.
Mara held his shoulders. "What happened?" she asked. "What did you do?"
"I didn't choose," Elyon said. His voice shook. "I refused again."
The panel lit back up.
But it was different now.
No options.
No words.
Just a thin red line pulsing across the screen.
Slow. Steady.
Like a wound that would not close.
Outside, the sirens stopped one by one.
Not because things were fixed.
Because they were sorted.
The building shook slightly. Not an earthquake. A system adjustment.
Mara stood slowly. "Something's wrong," she said. "I need to check on my sister."
She paused at the door. Looked back at him.
"You feel different," she said.
"So does the city," Elyon replied.
She left.
Elyon dragged himself to the wall and sat. His head throbbed. His thoughts felt… stretched. Like they had been pulled too far and not fully returned.
The panel changed again.
A single line of text appeared. Faint. Almost respectful.
Echo instability detected.
He stared at it.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
For the first time since this began, the system hesitated.
Then, beneath the line, something new appeared.
Not system language.
Not clean.
Not optimized.
Just a fragment.
—01: First bleed logged. Do not repeat.
Elyon's breath caught.
That number again.
Not explained.
Not named.
Outside, somewhere in the city, glass shattered.
Elyon pressed his forehead to the wall and closed his eyes.
He understood now.
This was no longer about standing still.
Something inside him had pushed back.
And it had torn.