The box learned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And like all learning systems, it began by making mistakes.
The next test wasn't announced.
It never was anymore.
Li Chen noticed it only because the air felt wrong.
Not thinner.
Not colder.
Intentional.
The lights dimmed by a fraction.
Sound dampening eased just enough to let distant noise bleed through.
Footsteps.
Shouting.
A sharp crack that wasn't simulated.
Li Chen stood.
[SYSTEM PHASE II]
[External auditory input flagged: High probability distress]
They wanted reaction.
Not action.
A voice followed.
Calm.
Clinical.
"Remain in the room."
Li Chen didn't move.
He listened.
Heart rate unchanged.
Muscles relaxed.
But his attention sharpened until the world narrowed.
The sounds escalated.
A scream.
Cut short.
Then silence.
Several analysts held their breath behind the walls.
"This is too far," one whispered.
"We need data," another replied.
Li Chen spoke.
"If this is real," he said quietly, "you're making a mistake."
No response.
"If it's staged," he continued, "you're wasting time."
Still nothing.
Minutes passed.
Or seconds.
Time stretched under pressure.
Li Chen walked to the center of the room and stopped.
He closed his eyes.
The System reacted instantly.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
[Cognitive load increasing beyond modeled range]
[Adaptive priority reallocation initiated]
Behind reinforced glass, lines of data spiked.
Neural activity.
Environmental feedback.
Stress indicators.
Not panic.
Alignment.
"He's not escalating," someone said. "He's stabilizing."
"That shouldn't be possible under uncertainty."
"Nothing about this is."
The voice returned.
"Stand down," it said.
Li Chen opened his eyes.
"Explain," he replied.
A pause.
Longer than before.
"That was a simulation," the voice said.
"No," Li Chen answered. "That was manipulation."
Silence.
The temperature dropped sharply.
A corrective measure.
Li Chen felt it along his skin.
Not discomfort.
Feedback.
The System adjusted.
[SYSTEM NOTE]
[Physiological response normalized]
The analysts stared.
"He's adapting faster than we can provoke."
"Then increase pressure."
They did.
The room shifted again.
Gravity skewed sideways.
Alarms flared—muted, distant, but real.
Li Chen braced instinctively.
The floor cracked.
Not shattered.
Cracked.
A hairline fracture spiderwebbed beneath his feet.
Every monitor lit red.
"That's structural stress," someone shouted.
"He didn't touch anything!"
"No," another whispered. "But the system did."
Li Chen exhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
He stepped back.
The fracture stopped spreading.
The room steadied.
The alarms died.
For the first time since he entered the facility, Li Chen spoke without being prompted.
"You're not testing me," he said. "You're testing how much strain your systems can tolerate while I remain passive."
No denial came.
That night, the System issued a statement it had never made before.
[SYSTEM PHASE II — WARNING]
[Host environment approaching instability threshold]
[Recommendation: Reduce external stressors]
Li Chen sat on the bed, eyes forward.
The box had developed stress fractures.
Not in concrete.
Not in steel.
But in assumption.
Containment required pressure.
Pressure created feedback.
And feedback—
—changed the system applying it.