"She's not wrong, you know."
Rex Aurelian's voice was cheerful, startling Sage as he left the archive. The Sector Chief was admiring a pathetic window box of dust-tolerant lichen.
"Chief Aurelian. I was just—"
"Looking backward!" Rex finished, beaming. "A natural impulse. But the future is so much brighter! Our new filtration protocols are yielding remarkable clarity. Next quarter, I'm pushing for a full liter supplement."
He said it with absolute conviction, as if his optimism alone could manifest the extra Vitae.
"That would be… significant," Sage said carefully. "Does the data support the increase?"
Rex waved a hand. "Data is a snapshot. Momentum is the key! Positive outcomes follow positive expectations. Look at this lichen! Thriving with just ambient humidity and a hopeful attitude."
The lichen was, in fact, grey and brittle-looking.
"The Northern Tunnel work is hard on morale," Sage ventured, testing. "The extended shifts."
"A temporary challenge!" Rex insisted, his smile never slipping. "See it as an investment. A few hours of discomfort now for a more hydrous tomorrow for everyone! The Syndicate's vision is long-term prosperity."
Sage watched him. Rex's optimism wasn't naive; it was a tool. It smoothed over Regina's harsh facts and the Soladorns' threats. It made the unbearable seem like a stepping stone.
It was another piece of the machine. The grease that kept the gears of compliance turning.
"Keep your spirits high, Pendragon!" Rex clapped him on the shoulder. "Progress is inevitable!"
As Rex strode away, practically glowing with his own certainty, Sage felt a chill. The most dangerous prison might be one where the jailer convinced you the walls were for your own protection, and tomorrow they might just disappear.