My phone buzzed on the nightstand at twelve minutes past eleven. [Luke Hayes]: "Still parked before the on-ramp. The green dress was definitely the right call." I looked at the screen longer than I needed to. [Claire]: "Drive home, Hayes." Three seconds. [Luke Hayes]: "Going. See you Monday, Mercer." I set the phone on the charger and let the room go dark. Monday at Asteron was the usual grey: badges, ventilation shafts, stale dark roast in the breakroom. Lab 7 was already lit. Luke was at the secondary bench with the wire cutters, dark hair in his eyes, dark blue henley shoved past his elbows. He looked up when the latch clicked. Two beats. Not a smirk. Just the fact that neither of us was going to pretend Friday hadn’t happened. “Morning, Mercer.” “Hayes.” I set my bag down. “Ferrite cores?” “By the cart. Secondary run’s where we left it. Still thirty-five percent laughing at us.” I carried the tray over. He held the harness. I snapped the beads on, three inches apart along the strut. He reached for the precision screwdriver at the same time I did. His fingers slid across mine and stayed half a second longer than the tool required. Calluses. Kitchen. Dress. I did not step all the way back. “Thanks,” he said, voice lower. “Yep.” Idle. Five seconds. Jump. The cliff showed up on schedule, same height, same jagged peak. Luke leaned in to read the scale. Jacket against my sleeve. I had considerably more information about him at this range than I’d had last Thursday, and I used none of it on the waveform. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Two percent drop in noise, maybe. Main amplitude’s fine.” “Ferrite isn’t touching it. So ordinary cable coupling isn’t enough to explain what's left.” “Then where?” “Next suspect is a hard path. Shared trace, chassis path, something physical carrying it when the torque twists the mount.” He straightened, hand on the back of his neck. “Hard path. Tape and zip-ties are done.” “Board traces under load,” I said. “Tomorrow.” He walked to the whiteboard. Lines 1 through 8 were still sitting there. With a blue marker, he crossed out the cable-proximity line and wrote: 9. FERRITE INEFFECTIVE ON REMAINING 35%. 10. TEST HARD-PATH COUPLING — BOARD / MOUNT. He capped it and looked at me across the room. The work look slid off. The kitchen look did not replace it all the way. He left it in the middle. “Wednesday still on?” he asked. “O’Malley’s,” I said. “Seven.” “Different room this time.” “We’ll see.” I picked up my bag and headed for the door. His hand settled briefly at my waist as I passed, warm and certain through my shirt, just enough to stop my momentum. I looked back at him. His fingers stayed for one beat longer, then dropped. “See you then, Mercer.” “Seven,” I said, and let the door click shut.

Chapter 15: Baseline Shift