The breath counter — the Au-Mu-A cycle, yours. Out on the outward current, still in the centre void, home on the return. Sound out, void, sound in; breath out, hold, breath in. The void is not empty time — it is where the flip happens. One full cycle below, the exact timings of the sonic cosmology, scaled to your pace.
Honesty strip: your journey lives on this device and rides with you through the doors — no account, no tracking, no one else reads it. When the gate runs live it walks every room with you whole; in these copies it carries itself through each door you take. Peripheral vision holds seats for the others near your kaupapa — presence only, never their detail — and fills when the world is wired.