Riverside had been bathed in a golden light by the Feast of the Watchmen. For three days, the village seemed to hum with a fresh, established rhythm. The [MORALE] and [COLLECTIVE RESILIENCE] monitors glowed a firm, bright green in Reuben's vision. Laughter ran more easily. The work, though still hard, no longer became a wild dash and instead the deliberate rhythm of a strong heartbeat. Reuben allowed himself, for the first time in months, to breathe. He spent one whole afternoon with Miriam, not planning details, but simply walking along the riverbank, talking of birds and plants.
He saw the world neither as a map of peril, nor as a series of houses to arrive at, but as a world.
It was in this relaxed state of tranquility that the System struck.
It began not as a warning, but a discord.
