“Brightline’s assistant,” she said. “She’s been following me since breakfast.”

“Did you get her license plate?”

“No. But I know that car. It belongs to her mother. I taught her to ride a bicycle.”

Mara looked at her, startled. Evelyn shrugged grimly.

“That’s the trouble with a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It doesn’t always help.”

***

At four twenty, the Glass Garden stood in Rosewood Park beneath a clear plastic shelter. Lights ran along twelve mirrored stems. Brightline had placed floral-patterned screens around the base, disguising the moving panels. A crowd gathered outside the barriers, drawn by music and the sight of the enormous artificial flower.

Ada was arguing with Julian near the entrance when Mara and Evelyn arrived. Ellis stood behind them, holding a tool bag and looking as though he’d prefer to disappear into the shrubbery.

“I specifically prohibited active motion,” Ada said.

“And there is no motion,” Julian replied. “The installation is static.”

A silver petal twitched behind him.

Ada pointed. “I saw that.”

“Wind.”

“It’s anchored under a shelter.”

Julian turned toward Mara. “You have created enough confusion. Please stop interfering with our technicians.”

Mara put the lunch tin on a nearby table. “We can show you the problem without moving the platform.”

“No.”

Ada stepped between them. “I’m asking to see it.”

Julian took a long breath, glancing toward spectators already arriving for the five o’clock rehearsal. “Five minutes.”

Ellis helped connect the translator to a spare cue output on the lighting console. The output was isolated from the platform motors, and Mara asked Ada to witness Ellis physically disconnecting the motion supply before any testing began. The thick power lead came free with a satisfying click.

The simulator woke, its green display glowing in the late afternoon shade.

Mara selected the garden sequence from the USB. Twelve petals began to open in the virtual model. At first the simulation looked graceful. Then the missing channel was bridged to the adjacent one, matching the wiring Ellis had described. Two commands collided. A red warning erupted across the display.

PHASE CONFLICT.

Ada leaned forward. “Show me again.”

They repeated the sequence. The warning occurred at the same point every time. Ellis explained how the combiner routed two commands to one actuator. Evelyn explained how the original floor had been built for independently limited movements, not synchronized petal choreography.

Julian watched without speaking. When the demonstration ended, he said, “That’s an old simulator, not a test of my equipment.”

“Correct,” Mara said. “It’s evidence of a design concern, not a complete assessment. That’s why no one should use the moving floor until the full system is evaluated.”

“Your model doesn’t account for our modern controller’s protective software.”