Fractures never announced themselves.
They revealed.
Quietly.
In places people had stopped watching.
The first fracture appeared in timing.
A decision that should have landed by noon slipped into the afternoon. No explanation. No resistance. Just delay small enough to ignore, significant enough to register.
I noticed it immediately.
Not because it mattered.
But because it hadn't happened before.
"They missed the window," Adrian said after reviewing the log.
"Yes," I replied. "By minutes."
"That's nothing."
"It's everything," I said. "Systems don't miss minutes unless something underneath shifts."
The second fracture appeared in coordination.
Two departments moved forward independently both competent, both correct, both misaligned. The work duplicated. Resources overlapped. A correction followed.
Clean.
Efficient.
But unnecessary.
"That's friction," Adrian said.
"Yes," I replied. "The kind pressure creates when it pushes too hard."
