When they finally came for him, they didn't come abruptly.
That would have implied urgency, or anger, or emotion of some kind.
Instead, the very room around him changed.
The air shifted just enough that Zubair noticed it before he saw anything else. A pressure change. A subtle cue that something had moved into place around him. It was the same sensation he'd felt earlier, when the system had decided he no longer belonged where he stood.
He rose from the bed without being told.
By the time the space folded, he was already upright, shoulders squared, breathing steady. There was no resistance this time. No pull. No disorientation.
He was returned to the chamber from before.
Same tiers. Same desks. Same figures seated in orderly rows, hands folded, expressions neutral. Nothing about them suggested anticipation or concern. This wasn't a dramatic moment for them.
It was a scheduled one.
