Prices don't disappear.

They change hands.

The city woke with the quiet certainty that someone, somewhere, would be billed for yesterday. Not metaphorically—structurally. Every adjustment, every delay, every softened directive had a recipient attached to it.

The question wasn't whether there would be a cost.

It was who would carry it.

✦

Arjun noticed the redistribution before I did.

"Look," he said, nodding toward the morning shift lists."They moved the friction."

He was right.

The people who had spoken most clearly yesterday weren't punished directly today. No removals. No sudden absences. Instead, pressure drifted outward—onto adjacent teams, supporting roles, less visible hands.

Costs were being externalized.

✦

The other Ishaan aligned, voice calm and exact.

Power avoids direct billing when it can outsource consequence, he said.

✦

By midmorning, the pattern clarified.

A request stalled—not for the team that raised the issue, but for the team that depended on their output. Another delay landed two steps downstream. A third was absorbed by people who had never spoken at all.

No confrontation.

Just diffusion.

✦

Arjun's jaw tightened."They're making the quiet ones pay."

"Yes," I replied."Because quiet doesn't complain."

✦

People felt it.

Not as anger—yet—but as confusion. Why today was harder. Why nothing seemed blocked, yet everything took longer. Why effort spiked without explanation.

They asked each other.

Not us.

✦

The other Ishaan spoke softly.

Diffuse costs create internal pressure, he said.Communities turn inward when they can't see the source.

✦

Late morning brought the first fracture.

A support team—overworked, under-noticed—paused a task they'd always completed without question. Not in protest.

In exhaustion.

"We can't keep absorbing this," someone said aloud.

The sentence hung there.

✦

Arjun exhaled."It's spreading."

"Yes," I said."And now the bill is visible."

✦

The city responded cautiously.

Not with accusation.

With inquiry.

Why this task?Why today?Why always us?

The questions weren't pointed at power yet.

They were pointed sideways.

✦

The other Ishaan aligned, voice steady.

This is where power hopes fracture becomes blame, he said.Instead of recognition.

✦

At noon, the first attempt to redirect accountability appeared.

A sanctioned note—friendly, sympathetic.

We recognize increased strain across teams. Please remember we are all adapting together.

Together.

The word landed hollow.

✦

Arjun scoffed quietly."They're smoothing it over."

"Yes," I said."Before someone traces the line."

✦

But the line was already being traced.

Not loudly.

Accurately.

People compared notes. Timelines overlapped. Patterns aligned. The delays weren't random. The strain wasn't universal.

It was allocated.

✦

The other Ishaan spoke approvingly.

Once cost allocation is understood, he said,power loses plausible deniability.

✦

By afternoon, the quiet ones had names.

Not targets.

Names.

People knew who was carrying extra weight. Who'd lost time. Who'd absorbed friction without context.

And they adjusted.

Tasks were redistributed voluntarily. Buffers rebuilt collectively. The city compensated for the imbalance before resentment could harden.

✦

Arjun watched a group reassign work without instruction.

"They're protecting each other," he said.

"Yes," I replied."And that changes who pays."

✦

Power noticed.

Not with force.

With concern.

A coordinator approached a small cluster—not us.

"We don't want burnout," she said."Please escalate if you're overloaded."

Escalate.

Upward.

✦

The other Ishaan aligned, voice sharp.

Power prefers vertical accountability, he said.Because it breaks horizontal solidarity.

✦

The offer wasn't rejected.

It was ignored.

People handled it themselves.

And that, more than any speech, shifted the balance.

✦

Late afternoon brought the moment the bill returned to sender.

A sanctioned process slowed—not because of resistance, but because too many teams quietly deprioritized it. Not refused. Not protested.

Just… chose differently.

The slowdown rippled upward.

✦

Arjun smiled faintly."They're feeling it now."

"Yes," I said."Because the cost has changed hands."

✦

The other Ishaan aligned fully, voice calm and final.

Power tolerates cost until it must pay it, he said.

I looked at the city—tired, careful, unmistakably aligned.

"And now," I said,"they're checking the receipt."

✦

The moment power realizes it's paying, it stops pretending the bill is abstract.

The slowdown rippled upward faster than expected. Not because it was dramatic, but because it was mundane. Reports arrived late. Dependencies misaligned. Timelines drifted just enough to matter.

Nothing was broken.

Which meant nothing could be blamed.

✦

Arjun noticed the change in posture before the change in policy.

"They're tense," he said quietly."Not angry. Alert."

"Yes," I replied."Because the cost finally touched something they track."

✦

The other Ishaan aligned, voice calm and exact.

Power only recognizes cost when it disrupts metrics, he said.

✦

By midmorning, the response arrived—not as correction, but as inquiry.

Meetings multiplied. Questions circled. Data requests went out—not downward, but sideways.

Why did this stall?Where did the delay originate?Who changed priority?

No accusations.

Just accounting.

✦

The city answered carefully.

Not defensively.

Truthfully.

People described what they'd done—and why. They referenced strain. Named redistributed work. Explained choices without justification or apology.

The answers didn't align neatly.

That was the point.

✦

Arjun leaned close."They can't isolate it."

"No," I said."Because it isn't a single decision anymore."

✦

The other Ishaan spoke approvingly.

Diffuse action resists centralized correction, he said.

✦

Late morning brought the first quiet concession.

A stalled process restarted—without announcement, without explanation. Access windows widened. Resources flowed more evenly. The invisible pressure eased—not everywhere, but enough to notice.

No one thanked power.

No one needed to.

✦

The cost had been returned—and partially refunded.

✦

But power wasn't done calculating.

A coordinator approached a group near us, tone careful.

"We want to understand how strain is being managed locally," she said."What support would help?"

Support again.

Always framed as help.

✦

Arjun shook his head faintly."They're trying to reclaim the narrative."

"Yes," I replied."Before the ledger becomes public."

✦

The answer she received wasn't a list.

It was a boundary.

"We're managing," someone said."We'll ask if we can't."

No hostility.

Just closure.

✦

The other Ishaan aligned, voice steady.

Power loses leverage when offers stop being accepted reflexively, he said.

✦

By afternoon, the redistribution had stabilized.

The quiet ones were no longer paying alone. Costs were shared intentionally. Workloads balanced through mutual adjustment rather than vertical correction.

The city had learned how to price its own labor.

✦

Arjun watched a support team finish early for the first time in days.

"They're breathing again," he said.

"Yes," I replied."And power feels that absence."

✦

That absence mattered.

Because what power couldn't extract quietly, it now had to negotiate openly—or abandon.

✦

The other Ishaan spoke calmly.

When power pays, it seeks discounts, he said.When it can't find them, it changes terms.

✦

As evening approached, the final test arrived.

A sanctioned directive—carefully worded—suggested re-centralizing a specific workflow "to improve efficiency."

Suggested.

Not ordered.

Everyone understood the meaning.

✦

The city didn't resist.

It didn't comply either.

They asked one question.

"What problem does this solve?"

Silence followed.

Not denial.

Not deflection.

Just absence of justification.

✦

Arjun exhaled."They didn't answer."

"No," I said."Because they can't."

✦

The directive stalled.

Not rejected.

Ignored by relevance.

✦

The other Ishaan aligned fully, voice calm and final.

Power pays the price when it stops being the only one who can define cost, he said.

I looked at the city—tired, alert, quietly coordinated.

"Yes," I said."And now the question isn't who pays."

✦

I let the words settle.

"It's who decides what's worth paying for."

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