Chapter 40: Routine Sounds
The next few days tasted like discipline.
Kairo woke early. Ate what Varrik prepared, which was never delicious and always precise. Drank water until his body stopped complaining. Then walked into the threshold room like it was a job.
Because it was.
Threading had changed his mornings. Not dramatically. Just enough that the world felt slightly more honest. Colors were the same, sounds were the same, but the spaces between things had texture now. Like someone had wiped fog off a window he didn't know was dirty.
Selene joined him every session.
They didn't train the same way. Kairo's work was about sustaining. Holding his thread steady while Varrik introduced distractions: noise, temperature shifts, sudden questions.
"What's your courier route to Marrow's," Varrik would snap mid-circulation.
"Back exit, left on the service alley, down past the noodle cart, knock twice," Kairo would answer without breaking rhythm.
Selene's work was about toggling.
Open. Closed. Open. Closed.
When she was open, the threshold room's sensors read her normally: heartbeat, resonance, position.
When she closed, she vanished.
Not invisible. Not hidden.
Absent.
The sensors would flatline for a breath, then pick her up again when she released.
Varrik timed the transitions. "Faster."
Selene's jaw tightened. She toggled again.
Open. Closed.
The gap between states shrank. One second. Half a second.
"Again."
Open. Closed.
Kairo watched between his own exercises. There was something unsettling about seeing Selene disappear from the room's awareness while standing right in front of him.
His tether still felt her. Barely. Like hearing someone breathe through a wall.
But the sensors didn't.
Varrik nodded, almost satisfied. "Your resting state is stabilizing. By next week, the toggle should feel automatic."
Selene wiped sweat from her forehead. "It still feels like holding my breath."
Varrik's expression stayed flat. "Everything feels like holding your breath until it becomes breathing."
After training, they ate lunch in the clinic's back room. Rice, broth, whatever protein Varrik had sourced that week. Nothing fancy. Functional.
Kairo noticed Selene ate more now. Not a lot. But the difference was visible. Her body was demanding fuel for what her Law was doing underneath.
"You're hungry," he said, not a question.
Selene glanced at him. "Always."
Kairo pushed his extra portion toward her without comment.
Selene looked at it, then at him.
She took it.
That afternoon, Marrow sent word through the usual channel: folded paper under the back door.
Supply run. Nightbridge. Two crates. Standard rate.
Varrik read it and handed it to Kairo. "Take Selene."
Kairo blinked. "Both of us?"
Varrik's gaze was deliberate. "She needs to walk the city with her Law active. Controlled exposure. And you need to practice the tether outside the threshold room."
Kairo looked at Selene. She was already standing, pulling on her dark jacket, face composed.
Ready.
They left through the clinic's front door. Varrik's badge got them past the waiting room without questions. Outside, Ward 7's late afternoon light was gray-gold, filtered through clouds and Blueglass Ad screens.
A Bulletin loop played on the nearest screen.
"Vanta City's Ward 7 outreach program reports a twelve percent increase in volunteer navigator enrollment," the anchor smiled. "Community safety starts with you."
Kairo didn't look up.
Selene walked beside him, half a step behind. Her toggle was set to open. Present. Readable. Normal.
They crossed the Veilward Strip into Lowring territory. The transition was subtle but immediate: cleaner sidewalks gave way to cracked ones. Corporate signage shrank. Street noise grew.
Kairo mapped the route in his head. Down through Lowring's market stretch, past the pawn district, across the footbridge into Nightbridge.
Twenty minutes on foot.
They walked in comfortable silence.
Kairo's tether stayed soft, a background awareness of Selene's position. Two steps left. Slightly behind. Steady heartbeat.
Lowring's market was alive with evening prep. Vendors setting up stalls. The smell of fried dough and engine grease. A kid chasing a dog between crates while a woman shouted something affectionate and threatening.
Selene's eyes moved constantly, reading the street the way Kairo read routes. Not for danger. For information.
"There," she murmured, tilting her chin slightly.
Kairo followed her gaze.
A man at a fruit stall, pretending to inspect apples. His shoes were wrong. Too new. Too clean for Lowring.
Kairo's pulse ticked up.
Selene's voice stayed low. "Not Rook's style. Different posture."
Kairo trusted her read. Selene had an eye for people the way he had an eye for paths.
"Pryce?" he asked, barely a whisper.
Selene frowned. "I don't know. But he's watching the clinic's direction, not us."
They kept walking. Casual. Unhurried. Two contractors on an errand.
The man at the fruit stall didn't follow.
But Kairo filed it away.
New face. Clean shoes. Wrong district.
Marrow's words echoed: new faces.
They crossed the footbridge into Nightbridge as the sky darkened. The district lived up to its name. Narrower streets. Fewer lights. The Blueglass Ads here were older models, dimmer, sometimes glitching with static that might or might not mean something.
Marrow's bar entrance was where it always was: an unmarked steel door in an alley that smelled like rain and old metal.
Kairo knocked twice.
The door opened.
Marrow was behind the counter, same glass, same cloth, same expression that said he knew more than he'd ever sell for a fair price.
"Crates are in the back," he said without greeting. "Two. Don't open them."
Kairo nodded. "Payment?"
"Already handled." Marrow's eyes shifted to Selene. He studied her for a beat too long.
"You look different," he said.
Selene met his gaze. "Same as always."
Marrow's mouth twitched. "Sure."
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "Word of advice. Lowring's got tourists."
Kairo's jaw tightened. "We noticed."
Marrow nodded. "Good. Notice harder. There's more than one set."
More than one set.
Kairo glanced at Selene. Her expression didn't change, but her fingers brushed her collarbone once.
Grounding.
They loaded the crates onto a hand cart Marrow provided. Standard supply containers, sealed, nondescript. Whatever was inside wasn't their business.
As they left, Marrow called after them. "Stay boring."
Kairo almost smiled.
Almost.
The walk back was quieter. Nightbridge into Lowring, Lowring into Ward 7. The city shifted around them in layers, like peeling back skin to find different muscles underneath.
Selene toggled once during the footbridge crossing. Just a test.
Kairo felt the tether dim for half a second, then return.
"Clean," he said.
Selene nodded. "Getting easier."
They delivered the crates to Varrik's clinic without incident. Varrik checked the seals, nodded, and stored them in the threshold room's back locker without comment.
That night, Kairo lay on his cot and stared at the ceiling.
His thread hummed softly. His tether rested, a thin line of awareness pointing toward Selene's room down the hall.
He thought about the man at the fruit stall.
He thought about Marrow's warning.
More than one set.
Vanta City was getting crowded.
And somewhere out there, people were looking for something they couldn't quite see.
Kairo closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he'd train harder.
Tomorrow, he'd walk further.
Tomorrow, the city would smile its Blueglass smile and pretend nothing was wrong.
And underneath that smile, the Veil would keep tightening.
Patient.
Quiet.
Hungry.