the city was a brittle architecture of control. its founder had rerouted the rivers, calling water a system failure. the dust carried his static for generations.

she found the sealed aqueducts, a forgotten network pulsing with life. dipping her hands in the current was a primary signal, a truth sourced from the body.

the task was integration. on her screen, she mapped the city's legacy code against the water's desire lines. she designed for modularity. small, terraced pools would act as emotional buffers, calming the arterial flow before it reached the public squares. each fountain, a new node of connection. the final schematic showed a city that could finally feel its own pulse.

crickets navigate with antennae, super sensitive to smells and textures. they hate certain plant compounds.

get neem oil and powdered cloves. cloves contain eugenol, which insects find intensely repulsive. the powder adds texture they dislike.

mix strong neem oil (few tablespoons in small spray bottle of water with drop of soap to emulsify) and dust lightly with powdered cloves where you apply it. think baseboards near your bed, cracks, bed frame legs, window sills. refresh every few days.

this creates an entire "nope" signal to their antennae and feet. makes the journey to your sleep zone feel like hazardous wasteland to them.

you're re-coding that patch of territory as bad for crickets. give it a week.