The shelter district woke to an unsettling stillness where no chimney smoke rose into the pale morning sky.
Across the long stone avenue, the civic conduit lines pulsed automated directives into locked bakery shutters and shuttered public kitchens.
Hajin stood near the perimeter of the public square, watching hungry families huddle beneath faded gray blankets along the curb.
Juna returned from her scouting loop along the northern storage district, dropping lightly onto the paving stones beside him.
"The grain is real," she reported, pointing two fingers toward the distant granite silos on the ridge.
"Northern silos are full, and only the routes broke, not the food!"
"The council turned off distribution... all over an automated transit valve failure!" he remarked, shaking his head with sharp disgust.
"They sit on mountains of wheat while three lower quarters wake up with hollow stomachs!"
