I lift my head.
She notices immediately. “You heard that too.”
“Yes.”
“Is that bad?”
“No,” I say.
Because it’s not an alarm.
It’s a delay.
Something didn’t sync the way it should have.
A man passes the door. His footsteps hesitate. Resume.
Another sign.
The system is compensating.
I let my head fall back again, eyes half-lidded.
“Whatever happens,” I murmur, “when the lights change—don’t move unless I do.”
Her voice barely carries. “You’re sure?”
“I’m betting on it.”
Because movement doesn’t mean action.
Sometimes—
It meanspermission.
The lights flicker once.
Not failure.
Signal.
Somewhere in the dark, someone just touched the edge of Malenkov’s control.
And it moved.
55
Jonah
Location:Subterranean Holding Chamber — Staging Node
Time:Unknown
The lights don’t flicker again.
Theydim.
Just a fraction—barely perceptible unless you’ve spent weeks learning the difference between system fatigue and deliberate throttling.
