The list went on and on. Alice saw now why the crowd was so quiet and polite, why they wouldn’t hold eye contact for more than a second. Everyone was terrified. Fourth Ward wasn’t an oasis in the wreckage of New York’s streets, or a haven for citizens looking to provide for their families. It was a feudal dictatorship, its laws enforced with the most severe of penalties. Alice understood why people lived here—hot food and clean water cost a fortune these days—but the Bridge was nothing more than a slaughterhouse garlanded with flowers.