[ He watches her say this and feels the shift. Vital context, a conclusion all but confirmed before he's even worked his own way to it. Again he takes stock of her injuries, thinks back to how quick she'd been with the knife. He has no reason to believe he's died, and the realization she does settles like a stone in his stomach. Eighteen years old. Aspiring musician. He has to force the next bite down. ]

Maybe parts of the world exist, then. Normally. Well, closer to normal — 'the turn', you said. Something sudden and serious, might be possible they're just fencing things in. Can't send anyone in to repair infrastructure, but somewhere there's some barrier and people living like you used to, on the other side.

[ It feels perfectly in line with grand systems, as he understands them. Quarantine an area, however large, in hopes the danger exhausts its potential. Send people in after the fact, call them heroes. It isn't a happy theory, but it's one that could be survived. ]