02The story
For eleven weeks, every clock in New York has been skipping. Nobody noticed, because for a few seconds nobody was there.
Kai lives in an old brick loft tower on the Brooklyn waterfront, with a rubidium clock on his desk that keeps better time than the city does. His logs show the gaps: every phone, camera and signal jumping forward at the same instant. He calls them stills. They used to last exactly four seconds. They're getting longer.
Tonight, at 23:58, a still hits, and this time Kai stays awake inside it. Traffic stopped mid-turn. A gull hanging outside the glass. And down on Water Street, one other person is moving.

Kai
The one who stays awake
A security contractor and a time nerd. Dry, precise, a little funny. He has found he can call a still himself.

Vera
The woman in the red coat
Nobody else should be able to move in a still. She can. She looked straight up at his window, and walked away.


