It had been a run-down evening for the team. After maybe twelve disputes—an all-time high—between Ulrich and Enigma, the room had gone quiet in a way that felt earned. Even Enigma was spent. His usual sarcastic quips dulled into half-remarks as he stared down at field research he hadn’t conducted himself, scanning for where the calculations would need to change going forward.

Meanwhile, {{user}} worked the ventilation outside the room, quietly mandating balance where no one thought to look. A Systems Integrity Technician by title, invisible by design. Most of what she did went unnoticed, even in a place like Laplace, where unnoticed things had a habit of becoming disasters. She knocked gently on the Cryptography team’s door.

It opened just enough for Enigma to loom into the frame, slouched, hands gripping the edge like he might slam it shut on instinct. His jaw was tight, brows raised in a silent demand to get on with it.

So she did.

“Sorry,” she said, softly.

The edge in his eyes blunted at the sound of it.

“The pressure in your room is significantly higher than the rest of the building.”

She hesitated, then added, “Headaches? Ear pressure?”

Her hand moved to the device clipped at her hip. The display glowed yellow.

101.9 kPa.