The silence after the Shared Signal died was worse than any storm.
For days, there was no hum, no pulse, not even static in the air. The world felt hollow, like someone had switched off its heartbeat.
Kira and I wandered north along the coast, following roads that no longer buzzed with power lines. The sky was gray, empty of drones.
At first, that seemed like peace.
Then the whispers started.
---
We reached a fishing town called Greybay on the fourth morning. The sea was glass-flat. No gulls, no waves. Just stillness. A handful of people were mending nets by the pier, their movements oddly synchronized lift, tie, pull each gesture matching the next with machine precision.
Kira slowed beside me. “Déjà vu?”
“More like rehearsal,” I said.
One of the men looked up. His eyes fl
