BEFORE FEAR GETS FLUENT Easy with that verdict. Somebody has to live inside it. You can answer in a second. Spend a lifetime trying to undo it. Hold. We haven’t heard enough. Hold. Don’t let the hurry speak for us. Whole room lit by a single word: THREAT. Nobody remembers who typed it first. Three translations later, everybody’s sure. I bring the first recording. It doesn’t say what they heard. Call those orders back. Every order built on that. Don’t just fix it on the screen. Fix it where it lands. I know what being cared for does. I want that written into this. Something learned from how we listened. Something changed because we did. Then the ceiling fills with letters none of us can read. Every system waiting for somebody to lead. A sound against the windows. The subtitles disappear. Someone reaches for a button. Someone whispers, “Keep it here.” I put my hand beside theirs. “We don’t know what that will do.” The room waits for an order. I ask it for another view. Have my back. Have theirs too. Help us find a step we both can choose. Let a welcome leave an exit. Let refusal finish speaking. We’re still learning to be human. Teach it how to keep us listening. Easy with that verdict. Somebody has to live inside it. You can answer in a second. Spend a lifetime trying to undo it. Hold. There’s more than fear between us. Hear them. Let them hear us. Teach it now. Before our fear gets fluent.
