"An eviction safety review?" My mom’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with a deep, ancestral dread that every flat-born resident carried. In the valley, a corporate review didn't mean an inspection; it meant displacement. "But they can't just lock us out, Lyra! All our things are inside. Your grandmother’s silver frame... your school notes... everything! Where is your father? He doesn't have his terminal active during the dock shifts!"
"We're going to resolve it, mom. I promise you," I said, my voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone that didn't allow for argument. I took her cold, bleached hand in mine, forcing a small, reassuring pressure against her fingers. "Let's wait for Dad on the ground floor landing. He’ll be back from the lower docks any minute."
Twenty minutes of ag
