Adaptation

The office adjusted quickly.

By mid-morning, Radan’s absence had settled into routine. Tasks that had belonged to him now appeared under different names. A new ownership list circulated without comment. His old commit references were replaced with generic identifiers. The space he had occupied no longer drew attention.

Anton noticed how efficiently it happened.

Mira spoke less than before. When she did, her words stayed close to the task at hand. She avoided references to earlier decisions, even when they were relevant. Anton recognized it as the kind of adjustment people made when they expected to be watched.

Tomas sent fewer messages. The ones he did send were careful, clipped, limited to facts. He stopped sharing half-formed ideas. He no longer asked open questions.

Jorel avoided the engineering floor altogether that morning, working from a conference room instead. When Anton caught up with him in the hallway, Jorel nodded but didn’t stop.

“They asked me to review my communication channels,” he said quietly. “Nothing serious.”

Anton didn’t ask what that meant.

The compliance process continued. New templates appeared. Review cycles grew longer. Advisory notes required sign-off from people Anton had never met. The structure thickened, adding layers that absorbed friction without slowing delivery.

In a planning meeting that afternoon, a manager referred to Radan indirectly.

“The previous approach had certain risks,” he said. “We’re addressing that now.”

No one asked what those risks had been.

Anton listened and said nothing.

Later, Mira joined him near the windows overlooking the street.

“They’re moving fast,” she said. “That usually means they don’t expect pushback.”

“From whom?” Anton asked.

She considered the question, then shook her head. “Anyone.”

She hesitated before adding, “They asked if you’d be willing to adjust your role.”

“In what way?”

“More formal input. Less exploratory analysis.”

Anton nodded. “Did you answer?”

“I said I’d check with you.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

That evening, Anton stayed longer than usual. He reviewed his earlier notes, the ones from before the procedures, before the narrowing. They read differently now. What had once felt neutral carried unintended force. Even the phrasing seemed heavier.

He realized something that unsettled him.

Nothing he had written was wrong. Nothing he had said was excessive. Nothing he had suggested was unreasonable.

And yet the outcome had followed.

The system hadn’t resisted him. It had incorporated him.

When he finally shut down his workstation, the office was nearly empty. The cleaning staff moved quietly between desks. One of them paused briefly near Radan’s old area, then continued on.

Anton gathered his bag and walked toward the exit.

Outside, the city continued as usual. Traffic flowed. Lights changed. People moved past one another without looking up.

As he walked, Anton felt a new restraint settle into place. It was a chosen one. A careful narrowing of his own movements. A measured adjustment.

He understood now what the system required.

Participation.

And that realization stayed with him long after the building disappeared behind him.