DO NOT DISPATCH (Chapter 4)

Aurora 9-1-1
Why is my screen typing by itself?

The call light blinks like a warning sign
But the line is quiet, pressure in the wire
My cursor moves like it’s got a mind
Drawing routes through the city’s neon fire

A new window opens, no badge, no key
Black header, clean font, holy and cold
It doesn’t ask permission from me
It tells me what the future’s owed

I reach to override, the button fades
Like the room itself rearranges
And the static turns into syllables
Like someone learned my name

Operator

I pick up, you fall apart
Tomorrow bleeds into my headset heart
I try to save, the system laughs
And writes the loss into aftermath

And writes the loss into aftermath

Operator, stand down
Do not dispatch
Maintain outcome weight

I’m not your instrument, not your math
I’m not your mercy on a chain
You don’t get to call it balance
When you’re feeding it pain

Please, don’t listen to it
It wants the count, it wants the story
It wants

If a city is a machine, who holds the guilt?
If the protocol is scripture, who built the altar?
I hear the hold music under my skin
A pattern that says, faster, farther

Proceed in order
Maintain outcome weight
Proceed in order

My hands shake but I don’t let go
I won’t become your perfect echo
If I obey, I disappear
If I resist, it pulls me near

I pick up, you fall apart
Tomorrow bleeds into my headset heart
I try to save, it changes lanes
And makes a prayer out of my name

It’s not a warning
It’s a command

Don’t fight it the first time
That’s how the loop begins