Jane waited until Greg left.

  She listened to the door close. Listened to his footsteps fade. Counted to ten, just in case the building had started lying about sound as well.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Just me now.”

  Then she stood up.

  The flat felt different when she was alone. Quieter, but not calmer. Like a room after an argument where nothing had been resolved, only paused.

  She picked up the tablet.

  87%

  Jane stared at the number for a long moment.

  “That’s… fine,” she said. “That’s still fine.”

  She did not roll back.

  That felt important.

  Instead, she opened the log.

  REVERSION LOG

  CUMULATIVE DEVIATION: 4.3σ

  “Nope,” Jane said. “Don’t love that.”

  No new entries.

  Good.

  She scrolled anyway, like scrolling counted as vigilance.

  There was a new tab she hadn’t noticed before. Greyed out. Inactive.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  STABILITY TESTING

  Jane frowned.

  “Of course there is.”

  She tapped it.

  A warning slid into place.

  WARNING: Stability testing may accelerate drift.

  RECOMMENDED ONLY IN CONTROLLED CONDITIONS.

  Jane looked around her bedroom.

  “Controlled,” she said. “Relative term.”

  She sat on the bed and considered her options.

  If she did nothing, the world would continue to tax her quietly. Shoes. Keys. Policies. Little tolls she didn’t remember agreeing to.

  If she rolled back, she would lose ground she hadn’t even realized she was standing on.

  Jane exhaled.

  “So,” she said. “We test.”

  She stood up and walked to the light switch.

  She flipped it off.

  Then on.

  The light obeyed.

  She did it again.

  Off. On.

  “Good,” Jane said. “Still basic.”

  She crossed the room and opened the wardrobe.

  Her coat hung where she’d left it. Her passport sat in the drawer beneath, exactly where she’d put it earlier.

  She picked it up.

  Her name still looked slightly wrong.

  Jane tilted her head.

  “That’s unsettling,” she said, then closed the drawer carefully. “We’ll circle back.”

  She went back to the tablet.

  87%

  “Alright,” she said. “Show me what this actually is.”

  She tapped STABILITY TESTING again.

  This time, it opened.

  SELECT TEST TYPE

  LOCAL ENVIRONMENT

  SOCIAL INTERACTION

  SELF CONSISTENCY

  Jane read the list twice.

  She laughed once, quietly.

  “Oh, you’re ambitious.”

  She hovered over SOCIAL INTERACTION, then pulled her finger away.

  “Nope,” she said. “Not today.”

  She hovered over SELF CONSISTENCY.

  She didn’t like how that one sounded.

  She settled on LOCAL ENVIRONMENT.

  “That feels safest,” she said, without much conviction.

  She tapped it.

  A new line appeared.

  DEFINE CHANGE

  Jane stared at the blank field.

  “What counts as small,” she asked the room. “Because we clearly disagree on scale.”

  The room did not answer.

  Jane’s eyes drifted to the mug by the sink. The one she kept rinsing instead of washing.

  She picked it up.

  It had a chip on the rim. Tiny. Barely noticeable. She’d cut her lip on it once and then kept using it anyway.

  She turned it slowly in her hands.

  “Alright,” she said. “You.”

  She typed:

  REMOVE CHIP FROM MUG

  The tablet paused.

  Jane held very still.

  Then:

  CHANGE MAGNITUDE: LOW

  ESTIMATED DRIFT IMPACT: MINIMAL

  CONFIRM TEST?

  Jane swallowed.

  “Low,” she said. “Minimal. Famous last words.”

  She pressed confirm.

  “Yes,” she said. “Confirm.”

  The tablet chimed.

  Jane looked down at the mug.

  For a second, nothing happened.

  Then the ceramic warmed slightly under her fingers.

  The chip was gone.

  The rim was smooth.

  Perfect.

  Jane ran her thumb along it twice, just to be sure.

  “Oh,” she said. “That worked.”

  She turned the mug slowly, inspecting it from every angle.

  Same mug.

  Just… corrected.

  Jane checked the tablet.

  85%

  Her stomach sank.

  “Two percent,” she said. “For a mug.”

  She set it down carefully, like it might invoice her again if she was rude.

  The flat felt the same.

  No pressure shift. No hum. No sense of sealing.

  Just a mug that had never been chipped.

  Jane sat on the edge of the bed.

  “So,” she said quietly. “You’ll do what I ask.”

  The tablet rested in her lap, warm and patient.

  “And you’ll charge me for it.”

  She looked at the battery again.

  85%

  Jane nodded slowly.

  “Okay,” she said. “Then next time, I ask better questions.”