The pause didn't feel like relief.
It felt like exposure.
Project Aegis was suspended pending "ethical revision." Hospitals that had relied on it suddenly had to think again—decide again—own their choices.
And many of them weren't ready.
Emergency rooms slowed.
Committees argued.
Doctors re-learned how to trust themselves.
Mistakes happened.
Not catastrophic.
Human.
And suddenly, no algorithm stood between decision and consequence.
Elias felt the shift immediately.
Calls increased.Requests multiplied."Just consult.""Just review."
They didn't want a savior.
They wanted insurance.
Dr. Lim confronted him after a sixteen-hour shift.
"You can't absorb the world," she said.
"I am not," Elias replied.
"You are becoming the failsafe again."
"Yes."
"And that undoes everything we built."
Elias didn't answer immediately.
Because she was right.
The choice arrived disguised as a proposal.
A global council request.
Permanent Director of Human Oversight.
Unlimited authority.Unlimited reach.Unlimited responsibility.
They weren't trying to control him.
They were trying to centralize him.
Celeste read the offer once.
Then again.
Then closed the file.
"They're making you the last line of defense," she said. "For everything."
"Yes."
"And when something fails," she continued, "you'll own every death."
"Yes."
She met his eyes. "You don't hesitate. But this… this would change you."
"Yes."
Shaun offered his assessment.
"Centralization increases efficiency," he said. "But creates single-point failure."
"Yes."
"You would become irreplaceable."
"Yes."
"That is statistically dangerous."
"Yes."
That night, Elias walked the hospital alone.
Not thinking about power.
Thinking about pressure.
Because infinite capability didn't mean infinite capacity.
He returned the proposal unsigned.
With one condition.
Decentralized human councils.Mandatory rotation.No permanent authority.
And one final line:
If medicine needs one person to function, it has already failed.
The council resisted.
Then conceded.
Because they had no counterargument.
The world adjusted.
Slower.
Messier.
More accountable.
Celeste joined Elias on the roof once more.
"You gave up control," she said.
"I never wanted it."
She smiled softly. "That's why they trust you."
Somewhere, a young doctor made a call without an algorithm.
Trusted training.
Saved a life.
No headline.
No metric.
Just responsibility.
Elias returned to work.
Still unmatched.
Still unstoppable.
But no longer the shortcut.
He was the foundation.
And foundations don't stand above buildings.
They hold them up.
End of Chapter 25