---
The first person to pay the cost wasn't important.
That was why no one noticed.
Her name was Elen.
She was a junior analyst—third floor, logistics division. No clearance. No relevance to the Vessel. She had joined the Authority because she believed systems could make the world fairer. Cleaner. Less cruel.
On the surface, nothing went wrong.
Her day began smoothly. Too smoothly.
The usual morning anxiety—the quiet dread before stepping into the building—was gone. Her hands didn't shake as she logged in. Her breath didn't hitch when the system queried her input.
Everything felt… easy.
Elen smiled without realizing it.
---
Jack passed her station mid-morning.
He didn't stop. He didn't look at her. He didn't even know her name.
But as he walked by, the Vessel stirred.
Not violently. Not consciously.
Just… adjusting.
Elen froze.
Her fingers hovered above the console, unmoving. Not because she didn't know what to do—but because, suddenly, she felt something she had never felt before.
Weight.
A pressure behind the eyes. A tightening in the chest. A hesitation so sharp it hurt.
Her screen flashed once—just a minor request. A routine authorization. One click.
She couldn't move.
Her heart pounded. Thoughts spiraled. What if this is wrong? What if I fail? What if—
She swallowed hard, breath shallow.
Around her, the office moved normally. People typed. Systems hummed. No alarms. No anomalies.
Only Elen was drowning.
---
Jack paused in the corridor.
He frowned.
Something tugged at him—not pain, not guilt. Just a faint… imbalance. Like a scale settling somewhere else.
It passed quickly.
"Still feeling it?" Maizy asked quietly beside him.
"No," Jack replied. "That's the thing. I don't."
Maizy didn't like that answer.
---
Elen's supervisor approached her desk. "You okay?"
She nodded too quickly. "Yes. Just… thinking."
The lie tasted bitter.
She clicked the authorization.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Relief flooded her so hard she almost cried.
She didn't notice what else vanished with it.
---
Later that night, Elen sat alone in her apartment.
She stared at the wall.
She couldn't remember why she felt so tired.
Not physically. Emotionally.
It was as if she had carried something heavy for a moment—just long enough to bruise her soul—and then been told it was normal.
That this was how things were supposed to feel.
She laughed softly.
"Get a grip," she told herself.
The words felt rehearsed.
---
Deep within the Authority, unseen systems updated themselves.
Not graphs. Not predictions.
Balances.
HESITATION LOAD: REDISTRIBUTED
OPTIMIZATION SUCCESSFUL
The Stability Protocol did not erase uncertainty.
It relocated it.
From the Vessel…
…to those who could not endure it.
---
Jack stood by the observation window again that night.
The city looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"People seem calmer," he said. "Fewer anomalies. Fewer spikes."
Maizy didn't answer immediately.
She was thinking of Elen.
Of the way her hands had shaken.
Of the look in her eyes after the pressure vanished.
"Jack," she said carefully, "if stability has a cost…"
He turned to her. "Then at least it's working."
The words sounded reasonable.
That frightened her.
---
Elsewhere, Elen lay awake in bed.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt that pressure again—faint, distant, like an echo.
As if something heavy had brushed against her life…
…and moved on.
---