Institutions move slower than crowds.
That's their strength.
And their threat.
Three days after the incident, the city no longer spoke in fragments. The noise had been gathered, categorized, translated into agendas and motions and carefully worded notices.
The invitation arrived at dawn.
Not addressed to a movement.
Not to an idea.
To a person.
Elena.
Marcus read it over my shoulder. "They're calling it an inquiry."
"Yes," I said. "Because 'investigation' sounds accusatory."
"And 'dialogue' sounds weak," Mara added from across the room.
The advisory presence hovered nearby, restrained, as if aware that this space was no longer its domain.
[Jurisdictional processes detected.]
The building was older than the framework, older than any system that had ever tried to optimize the city. Stone steps worn smooth by decades of use. Wood-paneled walls that absorbed sound and intention equally.
A place built to slow things down.
The room was already full when we arrived.
Legal counsel.
Public safety officials.
Representatives from labor, transport, health.
No banners.
No chanting.
Just folders and pens and people who had learned how to make decisions without raising their voices.
Mara hesitated at the door.
"I shouldn't be here," she said quietly.
"Yes," I replied. "You should."
Marcus took a seat beside me—not officially part of the panel, but close enough to matter.
The chair across from us scraped softly against the floor as the presiding officer leaned forward.
"Thank you for coming," she said. "We appreciate your willingness to participate."
Participate.
Not comply.
Not defend.
Words mattered here.
"We'll begin simply," she continued. "Do you acknowledge that your public statements and actions influenced the gathering that led to the incident?"
"Yes," I said.
No qualifiers.
A murmur passed through the room.
"And do you accept that harm occurred as a result?"
"Yes."
Someone scribbled something quickly.
Mara's fingers tightened in her lap.
The officer nodded slowly. "Then we're aligned on the facts."
Aligned.
Another word chosen carefully.
A man from public safety spoke next.
"Under the prior correction model," he said, "this incident would not have occurred."
"That's likely," I replied.
"Then why," he pressed, "was that model not reinstated when risk escalated?"
The question was surgical.
Not angry.
Expectant.
"Because," I said evenly, "preventing harm by removing choice doesn't remove responsibility. It relocates it."
He frowned. "That sounds philosophical."
"It's administrative," I replied. "Someone still decides. They're just harder to find."
The advisory presence flickered faintly, then stilled again.
A legal advisor leaned forward. "Are you suggesting the city assume responsibility for probabilistic harm?"
"I'm suggesting," I said, "that responsibility already exists. This framework just makes it visible."
Silence followed.
Not agreement.
Processing.
Mara spoke then, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"I saw what happens when responsibility is hidden," she said. "People stop asking if they should act. They just wait."
Several heads turned toward her.
The presiding officer regarded her carefully. "And what happens now?"
Mara swallowed.
"Now," she said, "people hesitate. And sometimes that hurts."
A pause.
"But sometimes," she continued, "that hesitation saves lives."
The man from transport spoke next.
"Public confidence is shaken," he said. "People want assurances."
Marcus leaned forward slightly. "Assurance of what?"
"Of safety."
Marcus nodded. "Then be honest about what safety costs."
That landed harder than any raised voice.
The presiding officer steepled her fingers. "Here's the concern," she said. "If no one can guarantee outcomes, then liability becomes diffuse."
"Yes," I replied. "That's the reality."
"And reality," she said, "is something institutions struggle to manage."
I met her gaze.
"I know."
The advisory presence chimed softly.
[System advisory note:]
[Institutional absorption capacity limited.]
The officer continued. "We're not here to undo what's happened. We're here to decide what happens next."
She slid a document across the table.
"Temporary oversight committee," she said. "With authority to recommend interventions during high-risk convergence."
I scanned the document.
Carefully bounded.
Procedurally sound.
Dangerously familiar.
"A committee," I said.
"Yes," she replied. "Human. Accountable. Transparent."
Mara's jaw tightened. "And slow."
"Yes," the officer agreed. "Deliberately."
Marcus leaned back. "You're trying to replace a hidden system with a visible one."
"Yes," she said. "Because visibility allows challenge."
I considered that.
"This committee," I said, "would advise or decide?"
The officer didn't hesitate.
"Decide," she said.
The room held its breath.
"That's a rollback," Mara said softly.
"No," the officer replied. "It's a transfer."
I looked down at the paper again.
This wasn't certainty returning.
This was power changing shape.
"If we accept this," I said, "we don't get to pretend neutrality anymore."
"No," she agreed. "You get to be accountable."
I thought of the square.
Of the man on the ground.
Of voices shouting and then stopping.
"I won't sit on this committee," I said.
Several people stiffened.
"But," I continued, "I'll help design its constraints."
Marcus nodded slowly.
Mara looked at me sharply.
"You'd trust them?"
"No," I replied. "I'd limit them."
The advisory presence remained silent.
For the first time, it truly had no standing here.
The presiding officer studied me for a long moment.
"That," she said, "may be the most realistic proposal we've heard."
The meeting adjourned two hours later.
No applause.
No consensus.
Just movement.
Outside, the city looked unchanged.
But something had shifted.
Not control.
Ownership.
Mara walked beside me down the steps.
"This is the part," she said quietly, "where freedom starts to feel like bureaucracy."
"Yes," I replied. "And where ideals learn how heavy paper can be."
Marcus glanced back at the building. "You realize they'll blame you if this fails."
"Yes," I said.
"And credit themselves if it works," he added.
I smiled faintly. "That's governance."
The advisory presence hovered just long enough to speak once more.
[System role minimized.]
Good, I thought.
Let it stay that way.
Because from here on out, the future wouldn't be optimized.
It would be administered.
And that might be the hardest test yet.