The form was misfiled under "Transportation — Misc." which was why it survived inspection for so long. Only when Mara began cataloging shipments of obsolete transit permits did the little cardboard folder tumble out, and the stamp—119—clicked in her mind like a forgotten lock. She read the header aloud at her desk, the fluorescent lights humming like an interrogator: ALCPt Form 119 — Application for Transit Concession, Alternate Clearance Protocol.

She took the packet back to her apartment and, in the low light of her kitchen, felt the weight of the city's silence press through the thin walls. Outside, traffic hummed oblivious. She set the canister on her table and, as if the machine sensed her, a tiny light blinked: a heartbeat of power.