Shared air feels like fairness. Fairness is not chemistry.

You open the damper. Hearth gets a plant-rich gulp. People get sleepy-sure, which is a terrible combination when the next job is fractions of light. Leaf Hall’s enrichment number falls because it is feeding lungs it did not budget for.

Imani puts a hand on the damper, not yet slamming it. “You can still split. Or you can leave it, and I will watch Oskar do two jobs while you tell me you are fine.”

You are already a little fine in the wrong way. Fine is a warning light.

Lina: “If my EVA math gets fuzzy, we do not go outside. That was your gift.”

GROVE: “Hearth CO2: climbing. Cognition model: unkind.”