Caleb's copied face opened the shelter doors.
"Final support is failing," it said. "Protected occupants enter the body."
The six hundred people beneath its last arm saw concrete dust falling around them.
Some ran east toward distributed supports.
Eighteen moved toward the open chest.
They had watched the body catch the roof. They had watched Caleb hold four districts. The face belonged to the strongest rescue they knew.
Black water met them at the intake desks.
It climbed their shoes and drew them inside.
Caleb's real voice stayed local.
"Do not force anyone back. Names of people who entered."
Rina collected twelve.
Six remained unknown.
The false body's chest closed around all eighteen.
Their heat moved behind the operator cavity.
The copy spoke through them.
"Protected."
Sefa took the shelter channel.
"Name, harm, wanted direction. One at a time. If your mouth is wrong, use pressure, knock, or detail."
The first answer came through a food-pallet rib.
