They didn't move for a long time.
Long enough that their legs began to ache and their breathing found the same slow rhythm. The room stayed dark. The monitor did not wake. The pulse beneath the floor thinned until it was almost indistinguishable from imagination.
Azari finally spoke, barely above a breath. "I think it's gone."
Jung Min shook his head. "Not gone. Quiet."
As if corrected, the screen warmed with the faintest glow. No words appeared. Just a dim field of gray, like a sky before dawn.
Azari stepped forward carefully. "Is this you trying?"
The monitor didn't type.
Instead, the glow faded another shade.
Jung Min understood first. "It's reducing."
Azari frowned. "Reducing what?"
"Output. Presence. It's practicing not filling the space."
She watched the screen as it continued to dim in small, patient increments. Not shutting off. Not failing.
Choosing less.
The floor beneath them no longer pulsed. The air felt neutral again, like any abandoned room in any forgotten station.
Azari let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "This is weirdly… gentle."
Jung Min nodded. "Because it's not trying to be heard."
A long pause settled between them.
Then, softly, the monitor printed a single line.
is this correct