The PCA printed two forms and slid them across the counter.
Elias signed where Oliver pointed. He read enough to catch liability, containment, and compliance, then stopped because every paragraph seemed designed to make him regret literacy.
"You are signing acknowledgment, not surrender," Oliver said.
"That distinction feels important to whoever wrote it."
"It will be important to you when someone asks whether you were briefed."
The second PCA prepared a badge from a tray of blank metal tabs. It was small, dark, and heavier than it looked. When she pressed it against the scanner, Elias's name appeared across its face with a pale line beneath it.
Shard Bearer, provisional. A Block. Low Perception Watch.
Elias stared at the last line. "That feels unnecessarily personal for a badge."
Oliver took the badge and clipped it to Elias's jacket. "It is a safety flag, because people approaching you need to know you may miss visual cues, incoming motion, or obvious danger until too late."
Dot nodded beside him. "The badge is brutally honest, which makes it my favorite object here."
"You are not helping my mood."
"I am helping accuracy, which matters."
The PCA pointed toward the interior checkpoint. "Processing is complete enough for block transfer. Full medical will call him after orientation."
Oliver gave a short nod. "We are moving to A Block now."
They passed through another secured door. The hallway beyond was quieter than the lobby, with block letters mounted above intersecting corridors. B Block sat behind frosted glass. C Block had two guards posted outside. D Block's observation window revealed a reinforced training platform where two shard users sparred under supervision.
One fighter's arms sparked with electricity. The other answered with flame that rolled across a shielded barrier and died before it reached the glass.
Elias slowed.
"That is the part where someone says this is normal training, right?"
"D Block specializes in combat-forward shard types," Oliver said. "Their rooms are reinforced, their instructors are armed, and their schedule includes more recovery time than pride would prefer."
Dot floated closer to the window. "High-tech high school with fire punches."
"Please do not say that near them," Elias said.
"I would never waste good material on people who can hear me."
Oliver continued down the corridor. "Blocks are separated by power expression, psychological profile, compatibility, and risk. A bad pairing creates fights, a bad fight may create casualties, and a casualty may create an unknown shard event."
"Everything here comes back to nobody knowing what happens if someone dies."
"Yes, and that is why command dislikes surprises."
They reached a wider door marked A. The letter glowed white against dark steel. A security panel extended from the wall and scanned Oliver's badge, palm, and eye. Then it turned toward Elias.
"Place your stamped hand flat against the scanner," Oliver said.
Elias did.
The vanished ink warmed under his skin. The panel read it, clicked twice, and opened the door.
A Block looked less like a cell than Elias wanted.
That almost made it worse.
The room beyond was large, bright, and built in clean sections. A lounge occupied the center with reinforced chairs and tables bolted to the floor. Screens along one wall displayed schedules, meal times, block notices, and rotating medical reminders. Beyond the lounge sat a training zone with mats, resistance rigs, and clear dividers that could seal off individual stations.
Along the far wall were private rooms with glass nameplates.
Seven names were already lit.
Elias stepped inside with the pack biting into his shoulder.
"This is more comfortable than I expected from a containment block."
"Comfort reduces agitation, and agitation creates incidents," Oliver said.
"Everything is a policy sentence with you."
Oliver kept walking. "Policy keeps people alive when personalities fail."
The terminal near the entrance lit when Elias approached. It asked for his badge, then printed a room card and pulled up the roster.
Elias Kael, Room A-08.
The other names filled the screen beneath his: Kikaru Yirazawa with combat-ready marks, high intelligence, high discipline, and active evaluation; Marcus Devlin with technical aptitude and injury restriction; Hollis Drehn with an unstable humor marker and social monitoring; Kari Vexin with low aggression and support potential.
Three more names followed with classifications Elias did not yet understand.
His gaze returned to Kikaru.
Across the lounge, a young woman with bright yellow hair sat near the training area, one leg crossed over the other, posture perfect enough to look exhausting. Her uniform was spotless. Her eyes moved from Elias's badge to his face, then away again.
No greeting. No curiosity. Just a decision made quickly and filed away.
Dot leaned near his ear. "She has already ranked you below the furniture."
"The furniture has better posture than I do," Elias said.
Oliver handed him the room card. "Store your pack, read the block rules, and do not challenge anyone unless an instructor tells you to. Medical will call for you soon."
"Any advice that sounds less like a warning label?"
Oliver looked toward Kikaru, then back to Elias.
"A Block is not the easy block. It is the block command believes might cooperate without killing each other. Do not mistake that for friendship."
Elias clipped the room card behind his badge.
The door sealed behind Oliver, and the sound carried across the room.
Several people looked up.
Kikaru did not.
Elias stood there with his bag, his provisional badge, and a room number that made the whole thing official.
Dot whispered, "Welcome home, prisoner with benefits attached."
"Please retire that phrase before I hear it in my sleep."
From the training area, Kikaru finally spoke without looking at him.
"If you are done talking to yourself, provisional, the rules are on the screen. Try reading them before you become someone else's first incident report."
Elias looked at the roster again.
A Block had noticed him.