The next day, Oversight didn't announce escalation.
It didn't need to.
Escalation was in the tiny delays—doors that took a beat longer to unlock, requests that sat in "processing" just long enough to feel like punishment while still wearing a neutral name.
A system didn't have to hit you.
It just had to make your life slightly heavier until you started asking permission again.
By 07:10, the cafeteria already sounded different.
Not louder.
Sharper.
People spoke in half-sentences, then stopped when someone walked too close. Trays clinked too softly. Chairs scraped too carefully.
And everywhere—everywhere—students were checking their interfaces like gamblers refreshing odds.
MERIT TRANSACTION: PENDING
PURCHASE: UNDER REVIEW
STATUS: TEMPORARY HOLD
Temporary.
Always that word.
Dreyden sat alone at the end of a long table, eating without looking up. He didn't need Eyes of Truth to feel the way gazes kept drifting toward him.
Some were curious.
Some were annoyed.
