Water in Shaft 37

“Then that’s where we go,” Erin said. “Not so fast,” Lena said coldly. “My brother went there.” Nobody answered. They walked north along a street with almost no shade. Fire hydrants stood open along the curb, the water they sprayed turning to vapor before it could ever reach the pavement. Storefronts hung “Closed” signs in their windows, and beneath one of them someone had written with red marker: No more water. Two blocks from the stadium, the loudspeakers came alive. “Please proceed to your designated cooling point with identification. Do not gather around private buildings. Follow staff instructions.” The voice was flat and even, as if the city had hired politeness to speak on its behalf.