The Creche in the City

As Anaxi navigated deeper into the city, they passed one of the Creche—an elegant, spiraling construct known as an Aegis. This Creche was designed for conflict mediation and public oversight, its body composed of countless interlocking plates that shifted with a fluid, almost hypnotic grace.

The Aegis watched a heated argument between two market vendors. As it spoke, its voice was calm but resonant, carrying a cadence that seemed to soothe tempers while imparting authority.

“Your dispute over resource allocation will be resolved through equitable redistribution,” the Aegis said, tilting its head slightly. “But first, you will both assist in the community cleanup tomorrow as a reminder of shared responsibility.”

It wasn’t always this smooth. In the Labyrinth City, where the pressures of dense living often flared into conflicts, the Creche found themselves mediators, caretakers, and sometimes enforcers. The balance was fragile, and resentment simmered in certain circles.

Anaxi observed the scene from a distance, their thoughts swirling. They had once known Victor in the early days of his schemes, back before he changed his name, when his charisma masked his darker ambitions. Anaxi had trusted him—briefly. That trust had cost them, though they rarely spoke of it.

Now, they followed him not out of vengeance, but necessity. Whatever Victor was planning, it could disrupt the already delicate relationship between humans and the Creche. Anaxi had no illusions about the city’s balance—it was far from perfect, but it was better than the chaos Victor would leave in his wake.