Normal streets are louder than broken ones.

That was the first thing I noticed after the Witness left us behind. Vendors argued over prices that didn't matter. Footsteps overlapped without rhythm. Somewhere, a radio played a song I didn't recognize but felt like I should.

No pressure seams.No narrative tension tightening the air.No subtle resistance when I moved.

The world had accepted me again.

Not as a problem.

As background.

Arjun hated it immediately.

"This is wrong," he muttered, scanning faces. "Everyone's acting like nothing happened."

"They didn't feel it," Aaryan replied. "Big discharges rarely register where they land. Only where they would've hit."

The girl squeezed my hand once, then let go. She was watching me—not worried, just attentive. Like she was checking whether I'd drift now that the weight was gone.

I rolled my shoulders again.

Still clear.

Still quiet.

Still me.

[ System Notice: Influence dampening — active ][ Status: Protagonist visibility — reduced ]

That line shouldn't have bothered me.

It did.

✦

We moved through the district without incident. Too easily. People brushed past us without looking twice. Even the reflections in glass behaved—no lag, no fracture, no alternate outcomes flickering at the edges.

At one intersection, a child ran past us chasing a paper kite. It tangled briefly in a lamppost, then freed itself with a snap of string.

No intervention needed.No cost to reclaim.

The other Ishaan stirred faintly.

This is the danger, he said.When nothing asks you to act.

I understood.

Escalation had taught me how to carry weight.The Hunter had taught me patience.The Witness had tested discipline.

Baseline asked a simpler question:

Would I still choose to matter if no one demanded it?

✦

We stopped at a small café wedged between two apartment blocks. The sign flickered, half-broken, but the door was open and the smell of something warm drifted out.

Arjun was already halfway inside.

"I don't care if it's a trap," he said. "I need sugar."

It wasn't a trap.

Just a woman behind the counter pouring tea, hands steady, eyes tired. She glanced up, nodded politely, and went back to her work.

No recognition.

No awe.

No fear.

Aaryan leaned against the wall, amused."You've been downgraded," he said lightly. "From variable to civilian."

I ordered tea and sat by the window.

The glass reflected me normally.

That bothered me more than anything else.

The girl sat across from me. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"About how quiet you are."

I considered that.

"When the weight was there," I said slowly, "every decision had friction. You could feel when something mattered."

"And now?"

"Now," I said, "everything feels optional."

She didn't smile.

"That scares you."

"Yes."

Aaryan snorted."It should. Optionality is how people vanish."

✦

The tea arrived—too hot, slightly bitter. I wrapped my hands around the cup and focused on the sensation.

Grounding.

Real.

Outside, the child with the kite passed again, laughing as it dipped and climbed.

No system messages followed.

No observers leaned in.

Just life continuing.

[ System Notice: Baseline behavior — monitoring ]

Monitoring.

Not intervention.

I took a breath and stood.

"I'm going out," I said.

Arjun blinked. "Where?"

"Anywhere something might happen," I replied.

The girl rose instantly. "I'm coming."

Aaryan stayed seated, sipping his drink."I'll catch up," he said. "This part's yours."

We stepped back onto the street.

The noise swallowed us.

No path revealed itself.No pressure guided my feet.

So I chose a direction at random and walked.

At the end of the block, someone shouted.

A fight had broken out near a delivery truck—two men arguing, shoving, tempers fraying.

Small.Local.Forgettable.

I felt nothing pull at me.

No cost.No consequence.No system suggestion.

Just a choice.

I stepped forward anyway.

✦

The argument by the truck wasn't dramatic.

No distortion.No flicker.No system voice clearing its throat.

Just two men, red-faced and exhausted, shoving each other over a crate that had fallen and cracked open. Cans rolled across the pavement, dented but intact.

One of them swung.

Missed.

The other shoved back harder than necessary.

People slowed as they passed. No one stopped.

Baseline.

I stood there for a moment longer than I should have.

Not frozen.

Unprompted.

The other Ishaan was quiet—no advice, no warning. This wasn't a test shaped by narrative pressure. This was the kind of moment that happened a thousand times a day and mattered only if someone decided it did.

I stepped in.

"Hey," I said—not loud, not commanding. Just present."That's enough."

Both men turned on me at once.

"Mind your business," the first snapped.

"This is my business," I replied calmly. "You're about to hurt each other over insurance paperwork."

The second man scoffed."You some kind of authority?"

"No," I said."That's the point."

The girl appeared at my side, posture relaxed but solid. Arjun hovered just behind us, arms crossed—not threatening, but unmistakably there.

The crowd slowed more now.

Not because of power.

Because of numbers.

The first man's shoulders dropped a fraction.

The second rubbed his jaw, breathing hard.

Silence stretched.

Then one of them laughed—short, embarrassed.

"Damn it," he muttered. "This day's been trash."

The tension broke.

They bent to gather the cans, muttering apologies that didn't quite mean forgiveness but meant enough.

The crowd dispersed.

No aftermath.

No ripples.

No system notice congratulating me.

Just a situation that ended slightly better than it might have.

✦

We walked on.

Arjun exhaled loudly."That was it?"

"Yes," I said.

"That's… anticlimactic."

"That's baseline," the girl replied.

She looked at me carefully."You chose to act."

"I chose to care," I corrected.

The distinction mattered.

Aaryan caught up with us a block later, hands in his pockets."So?" he asked. "How'd it feel?"

I thought about it.

"No resistance," I said."No reward.No punishment."

"And?" he pressed.

"And I still did it."

Aaryan smiled faintly."Good."

✦

As the sun dipped lower, the city shifted into evening rhythms—lights warming, voices lowering, routines asserting themselves. Nothing bent around us. Nothing reacted.

For the first time in a long while, I felt unimportant.

And for the first time, that didn't feel like failure.

The other Ishaan finally spoke, quiet and steady.

This is the foundation, he said.Everything else sits on this.

I nodded internally.

Escalation had taught me power.Cost had taught me responsibility.Timing had taught me control.

Baseline was teaching me intent.

We reached a bridge overlooking a slow-moving river. I rested my hands on the railing, watching reflections ripple and reform.

No alternate paths.

Just water moving forward.

[ System Notice: Baseline evaluation — ongoing ][ Status: No intervention required ]

I smiled faintly at that.

"Looks like they're not interested right now," Arjun said.

"Let them watch," I replied."I'm not performing."

The girl leaned against the railing beside me."You don't need the weight to matter."

"I know," I said."But when it comes back…"

"When," she echoed.

I looked out at the city—whole, fragile, ordinary.

"…I'll choose again," I finished.

Not because the story demanded it.

Because I would.

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