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The Truth About Lying
In the Quiet Zone, the human voice had become an invitation to physical trauma, and the only way to avoid the Hammer was to stop being human altogether.
Henry approached one of the signs. It was handwritten on cardboard:
QUIET ZONE
NO DISCLOSURE REQUIRED NO QUESTIONS ASKED SILENCE IS SAFETY
He kept walking. More signs appeared. More people. All of them locked in that protective, biological silence.
At the center of the district, he found what looked like a makeshift community center. People were gathered outside, sitting on the steps, leaning against the walls. In silence.
A woman approached him moving slowly, as if even a sudden motion might trigger her patch.
She was holding a chalkboard with words written on it:
Are you here to help or observe?
Henry pointed to "observe."
She nodded and gestured for him to follow.
Inside the community center, more people. More silence. They were organized, though—there was a system here. People were distributing food. Sharing resources. Helping each other. All without speaking. They moved in a
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