"Yes." He set the charcoal down and studied the rough map, already correcting it in his head. Not enough access points. Not enough timing. Too much assumption. Again. Always the same flaw. He saw a system and rushed to crown a center. The truth here was worse and larger. There might not be one center at all, only a chain of control made to survive the loss of any single part.

Outside the shelter, along the darkening path, upper-city residents drifted past in quiet groups, guided by tones they no longer seemed to hear. Beneath their feet, hidden fans turned. Nutrient lines pulsed. Waste counters climbed and reset. Somewhere below the gardens, hatches opened and closed in the dark for people who kept the whole bright stage alive.

Elias pressed his thumb into the tile dust and smeared one line from tower to shaft until it widened into a route.

Tomorrow, he would stop looking for permission in symbols and start preparing for the undercity.