The crowd formed early.
Fans with phones raised, clustered behind barriers, buzzing with half-seen glimpses and rumors that traveled faster than confirmation.
"They're excited," Noah said. "But this is also data."
"Crowds always are," Aria replied.
---
She stepped out between takes, not for them—but into them.
No security pushback.
No announcement.
Just presence.
Phones tilted.
Voices rose.
Patterns emerged instantly.
---
A fan leaned close, whispering to another.
"They changed the schedule last minute."
Aria heard it.
Another voice: "Someone important showed up."
Not a name.
Not a role.
Just importance.
---
Noah flagged it. "There's a micro-delay in police response time. Something triggered a soft perimeter."
"Someone adjusted threat posture," Aria said. "Without saying why."
---
She signed autographs slowly.
Let conversations continue.
People talked when they thought they weren't being listened to.
Especially fans—they noticed everything.
---
A group argued near the back.
"Why is that black van still here?"
"It's not production."
"I saw the plates—they're wrong."
Aria didn't turn.
She didn't need to.
---
Crowds amplified anomalies.
What one person missed, another connected.
"They're better than sensors," Noah said.
"They're decentralized," Aria replied. "And impossible to fully filter."
---
She waved. Smiled. Stepped back inside.
No questions asked.
No alarms raised.
But Noah's display filled with notes.
Unofficial vehicles.
Unlisted personnel.
Movement patterns that didn't belong.
The system thought fans were noise.
It was wrong.
The crowd had spoken.
And Aria had listened.