Finch Mottley's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Finch knelt at the base of the glowing kiosk and unclipped their newest petition from the satchel. They smoothed it flat against the lit panel and pressed the pin home. Beside it, already waiting, hung a corroded copper sheet with the word WARNING burned across its face. Finch's jaw tightened. They wanted a name. They wanted proof. They pulled the warning sheet down and held it next to the others stacked in their folder. The letters were burned, not written. No handwriting. No ink. No phrasing to match against the rest. Every threat in the pile looked the same blunt way. Finch turned toward the crystal cabinet beside the kiosk, where official records pulsed behind glass. They could file a complaint, but a complaint needed a suspect, and a suspect needed evidence the panels would accept. A small larva wriggled out from under the bottom edge of the warning sheet. Its antennae twitched. It had been burrowing in the soft metal. Finch caught it gently in their palm and turned it over. Faint tracks ran across the copper where the creature had chewed — and beneath the burned letters, the tracks formed shapes. Loops. Curves. A signature pressed into the back by whoever had held the sheet down to brand it. Finch held the sheet up to the kiosk's light. The hidden marks glowed through. Not the same on every notice — they would differ, person to person, hand to hand. A comparable mark. At last, something to match. Finch tucked the larva into a small jar and the warning sheet into their folder. The cabinet hummed behind them. They had a method now. They also had a problem: someone, somewhere, was about to notice their notices were missing.