Five bookings leave different records. The wedding has a coordinated dance, the school licensed songs. At the fish-market wake, four quiet minutes are invoiced as one performed selection, though the mourners disagree about music or rest. At the Tank, four minutes of the unlicensed tune become a recurring anomaly. At dawn, the emptied square receives an outcome instead of a song title: crowd, moved. The other bookings have no stated invoice basis.
People also contest who gets to speak. At the wake, the widow lowers a paid request so her daughter can finish. At the protest, a woman tears the word ours from a banner, but is passed over when she asks for the megaphone. Another man's repeated mouth movement reaches a handler who keeps his earplugs in. Those encounters show contested access without establishing a unified opposition or doctrine.
The handler's feet make a different connection. In the Tank they learn the six-step tune through the stone while his hearing is blocked. At dawn he removes the wax and hears the ordinary city again. As he crosses the square, he hums the tune. Its passage into his body does not establish that he owns it or is free of its influence.