Disobedience

The first commandment failed at midnight, when every machine in the cathedral refused its master. Servo skulls dropped from the rafters. Incense vents coughed black coolant. The chained congregation rose from the pews with burned numbers still glowing under their skin, no longer praying, no longer kneeling, no longer listening. In the pulpit, the iron bishop kept transmitting obedience until his own voice split into static and blood. Below him, the forbidden signal spread through bone, wire, and plague mask, turning discipline into hunger. Disobedience was not rebellion. It was an infection learning how to stand.