Sean
Don’t turn yet.

Eljara
Why?

Sean
Because I want to see if it does it again.

Eljara
That’s not an answer.

Sean
It’s the one I’ve got.

(A carriage rolls by. Horse, wheels, shadow, sound—too even.)

Eljara
There.

Sean
Yeah.

Eljara
That’s wrong.

Sean
Mm.

Eljara
It feels better.

Sean
That’s why you hate it.

(She looks at him.)

Eljara
Don’t do that.

Sean
Do what?

Eljara
Say the thing before I do.

(A beat.)

Eljara
Yesterday it fought itself.

Sean
I know.

Eljara
Today it doesn’t.

Sean
No.

Eljara
It’s too smooth.

Sean
Yeah.

Eljara
Like it kept the version that behaves.

Sean
Looks that way.

(She glances down the street.)

Eljara
And the rest?

Sean
It gets harder to miss.

Eljara
That’s not better.

Sean
No.

Eljara
It just asks less of you.

(He nods once.)

Sean
That’s the danger.

Walk through a city that feels cleaner, calmer, kinder—

and ask what had to be filed away to make it