Quiet is unsettling to people who survive on noise.
The city didn't announce its stability. It didn't broadcast success or defend itself against imagined critics. It simply continued—working, resting, adjusting in small, unremarkable ways.
And that frightened the wrong people.
✦
Arjun noticed it before the signals arrived.
"It's too calm," he said.
"Like… someone's about to poke it."
"Yes," I replied.
"Because quiet invites interpretation."
✦
The other Ishaan aligned, voice calm and exact.
Those who mistake quiet for weakness believe strength must perform, he said.
They distrust anything that doesn't ask to be noticed.
✦
By midmorning, the first misreading surfaced.
A delegation arrived—not hostile, not aggressive, but curious in a way that edged toward contempt. Their language was polite. Their questions were sharp.
"How are decisions enforced now?"
"What prevents fragmentation?"
"Who intervenes when someone refuses alignment?"
✦
Arjun folded his arms.
