By the second day, the conversation had moved beyond curiosity.
It was no longer about whether the event would happen. That part had already settled itself the moment the invitations reached the right hands. What remained now was expectation, shaped quietly and carried from one conversation to the next until it no longer needed to be spoken directly.
I heard the first useful version of it in the field.
The preparations were already underway. Markers had been set, distances measured, and the space had begun to take form in a way that made it clear this was no casual arrangement. It required precision. That alone was enough to draw attention.
Eliot stood beside me with his usual calm, a notebook in hand, his attention divided between the layout and the people attempting to interpret it.
"The east side will need to be opened further," he said. "If they arrive in groups, the current approach will slow them down."
"Then adjust it."
"It's already being handled."
"Good."
