Chapter 8 · free to read
Day nine. Water at the slab's edge, and a floor that did not want to be a floor.
Not hidden. Buried. There is a difference, and the difference is intention.
The log the wheel keeps. Not the office copy. The one with the hours written down in the hours they happened.
Zero zero hundred. Not zero four hundred. Four hours earlier, with forty-one people still asleep below the line.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.