Everyone knew the Quiet Hour. At 3:00 a.m. the whole city paused for sixty seconds, then woke up never noticing. Nobody dreamed through it. But tonight Mara was awake, stuck on a calculus problem with cold coffee, when every light, every screen, every humming fridge died at once. The clock read 3:00:00. The silence was total. And Mara realized she was the only thing still moving.

Mara grabbed her phone. Dead. The streetlights outside were dark too. She pressed her face to the window and froze. The man across the street had stopped mid-step on the sidewalk, one foot in the air, perfectly still. It wasn't sleep. The whole city was paused. She had to see it up close. She pulled on her shoes and ran for the door.

Mara stepped outside and the streetlight above her snapped back on, just for her, like a spotlight. A small drone lifted off a nearby roof and floated down to her eye level. A blue light blinked on its front. "You should be asleep," it said, almost gently. "Why are you awake, Mara?" It knew her name.

Mara turned and ran. The drone followed, fast and silent, its light sweeping the dark street. "Mara, stop, this is for your safety," it called. She ducked into an alley and pressed flat against the cold brick. The blue light slid past the alley mouth, paused, and moved on. She'd lost it. But she could hear more of them now, humming over the rooftops, looking.