FADE IN: INT. TRAM 7A, BRUSSELS, 7:52 AM The tram moves through the city before the city is fully awake. Grey February light through condensation-fogged windows. Most passengers face their phones. One does not. PETRA VOSS (43) stands near the center door, one hand on the overhead strap, the other holding a sheaf of printed pages. She is not beautiful or plain in any way that registers. She is the kind of person whose face calibrates itself to the task at hand, and right now the task is a 247-page technical architecture document. Her coat is dark wool, practical length. Her hair is pulled back with the functional severity of someone for whom appearance is a variable already optimized and set aside. She reads standing. No highlighting. Her eyes move steadily down the page, and when something interests her she pauses, three seconds, no more, then continues. The tram stops. The door opens. Cold air enters. Three people exit, four board. Petra does not look up. A header at the top of the page she is reading: