“Tuesday, 4 a.m.: one dream, citywide — a single clear note, held too long, then silence underneath it. Lucid walked a thousand children out of it before dawn and came back white-faced, saying the dark parts of the dream weren't dream at all. Noosphere has refused to link anyone since; the last thing the city heard through her was the sound of someone else, listening back. Amari's sanctuaries are full every night now. The quiet is no longer free.”
The whole city dreamed the same dream.



