The new fire extinguisher arrived unrequested.Installed overnight.
The bookstore now had a smoke detector, a new surveillance sticker, and a plaque that read:
"Protected Space – Public Memory Enhancement Zone (Provisional)"
—
Emir stared at the plaque for several minutes before removing it with the edge of an old bookmark.
Underneath, taped to the glass, was a city permit:
"Temporary Public Safety Upgrade – Instated on Behalf of Civic Wellbeing."
He didn't remove that one.
Not yet.
Instead, he made tea.
And waited.
Because when safety arrives unannounced,it's not about protection.It's about containment.
—
"Sandbags," Atatürk murmured in his ear."They think they're holding back the flood.But it's not raining yet."
"They don't want to stop you.They want to claim they allowed you."
—
That afternoon, two government employees arrived in matching beige coats.
— "This is a friendly visit," said the taller one.— "We're just making sure the space is legally compliant."
Emir nodded.
— "It was compliant when it was ignored."
The second man smiled.
— "We believe in preserving freedom.As long as it's within the framework."
— "Which framework?" Emir asked.
— "The evolving one," they replied.
And just like that—they left.
No threats.No warnings.
Just documentation.
And an undertone that sounded suspiciously like permission.
—
That night, Emir called a small meeting.
Six Circle members.
Each sat with their backs to a different wall—by design.
— "They've started building walls," one of them said.
— "Not around us," another added.— "Inside us."
Emir listened.
Then said:
— "We won't respond with protest.We respond by building something they can't label."
He handed out a folder.
Inside: a floor plan.An empty house in a forgotten part of the city.
A new space.
No name.
No formal function.
But enough room for questions to be asked without being graded.
At the bottom of the plan, in Emir's handwriting:
"Architecture is how power hides.So let's build something they can't decorate."
—
He returned to the bookstore.Sat in the back, pen in hand.
Wrote in the notebook:
"The first wall they raise is the one they say is for your safety."
"But the only thing I've ever feared—is not being misunderstood."