That night the town gathered at the old amphitheater—stone benches rimed with lichen, ivy like writing across the stage. The MoodX trailer stood at center, its portholes lit with cool, surgical light. Inside, machines blinked in a language of pulses. A woman with silver hair and the name tag “Mara” greeted anyone who stepped up. She did not look like a salesperson. She looked like someone who had once been the weather.