Oversight did not meet that night.
Not because there was nothing to discuss.
Because anything discussed too openly risked becoming recorded, and recordings created accountability—something the Triangle had always treated as optional when authority was still intact.
Instead, the system worked the way it preferred to: silently, asynchronously, through internal layers that didn't require consensus to move.
By the time the campus lights shifted to night cycle, at least seventeen internal models were already running.
None of them agreed.
That, more than anything else, unsettled Oversight.
Dreyden slept for exactly four hours.
He didn't dream.
Dreams implied the mind was trying to resolve something, and he had learned long ago that resolution was a luxury for people who could afford emotional noise.
When he woke, the feeling hit him immediately—not danger, not threat, but misalignment.
The Triangle's ambient rhythm was off.
