Oversight did not escalate the next morning.
That was the mistake.
They hesitated.
And hesitation, in systems built on authority, wasn't neutral—it was visible surrender disguised as patience.
The Triangle opened as usual.
Same bells.
Same corridors.
Same scheduling glyphs lighting the walls in soft institutional blue.
Students moved.
Instructors arrived.
Training sessions queued.
Everything worked.
Which meant everyone noticed what didn't.
No corrective memo.
No justification for the override the night before.
No explanation for the contradiction that had been exposed.
Oversight said nothing.
And silence, now, meant admission.
In Wing C, a third-year instructor paused mid-lecture.
Not because a student disrupted him.
Because three students in the back row stood—calm, respectful—and walked out.
No announcement.
No permission request.
Just departure.
The instructor didn't call them back.
He couldn't.
If he escalated, he would need Oversight.
