Page 66 of Pocket Wife

I feel the shift. Not agreement yet. Attention.

Rethan lifts one of the notices. “Do not debate courage. It cannot be audited. Separate every challenge into three categories. First, what Helix alleges. Second, what evidence supports the statement challenged. Third, what practical vulnerability Helix is threatening.”

Torren frowns. “You want us to make lists?”

“I want you to stop bleeding in directions Helix chooses.”

My eyes go to the wall, then to Jessa. “Open three boards.”

Jessa does.

Helix says.

We can prove.

They can hurt.

The words appear large enough for everyone to read.

For a moment, no one moves.

Then Nara steps forward first. “They can hurt transport authorizations.”

Jessa writes it down.

The freight man comes next. “Cargo license. Grain exports through Port Vale.”

“Write it,” I say.

Darin Om lifts a document on the relay screen. “I have my sister’s burial marker sketch from the cold-fever year.”

“We can prove,” Jessa says, writing faster now.

One by one, fear becomes entries. Entries become tasks. Tasks become names assigned to people who can help.

I move through the hall until my side aches and my voice roughens. I don’t ask anyone to promise forever. I ask them what they know, what they fear, and who can stand beside them when the notice arrives.

By midday, eight witnesses have withdrawn.

The number hurts.

But forty-three have stayed.

More importantly, every person who withdraws does so with their name still on the support board, not as an enemy, not as a coward, but as someone Helix has found a way to corner.

Near the water table, I find the freight man staring at his own notice.

“I may lose my route,” he says.

“I know.”

“You still want my testimony?”

“Yes.”

“And if I cannot give it?”

I swallow the answer I want and give him the one I can live with. “Then give us what you can without breaking your family.”