Back at Memorial, Helen found Caleb half-awake, drifting between worlds. Machines hummed around him, but for once the ground felt steady. She took his hand. “They saw your work,” she said. “They’re acting on it now. Evacuations. Pressure release. You didn’t get to publish—but they finally listened.”
“You… heard me,” he breathed.
“You left proof,” she replied. “I just dusted it off.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out as a sigh of relief, a weight leaving his chest. Somewhere far beneath them, drills pierced rock to help the earth exhale.