The write-up came before the pain did.
Marla handed it to me without ceremony. A single page. Carbon copy still attached. The header said CORRECTIVE ACTION and the font felt judgmental.
"Read it," she said.
I leaned against the wall and read.
Incident: Unauthorized engagement with Shaft C driftEmployee Response: ImprovisedEquipment Involvement: Mimic //Class: Mobile Storage, Noncompliant//Result: Drift stabilized. Protocol violated.
I stopped there. "That last part feels mixed."
Marla crossed her arms. "It always does."
The Mimic sat at my feet, lid closed, dent pushed in deeper than usual. It smelled faintly burnt, like chalk cooked too long. It wasn't drooling. That worried me more than the tooth thing.
"So what's the action," I asked. "Besides the paper being mad at me."
"Shadowing," she said. "You don't work alone for a while."
"Fine."
"And the Mimic"
My shoulders tensed before she finished.
"is on observation," she said. "Not reassignment. Yet."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The dungeon hummed, lower now, like it approved of bureaucracy.
We walked. Not to Shaft C. The other way. Toward mid-levels where the problems were smaller and louder. Flickers. Coughing traps. A Save Point that smelled like ozone and old socks.
Marla stopped me at the mouth of a side corridor. "You watch. I work."
I nodded. The Mimic thumped once and sat. Good. That was good.
Marla chalked fast, precise. She didn't fight the stone. She negotiated. Short presses. Pauses. The wrench came out only once, a gentle twist like reminding something of its place. The flicker settled.
"See," she said, standing. "No drama."
"Right," I said. "I'll just do that."
She looked at me. "You won't."
"Thanks."
"That's not an insult," she said. "You see problems early. That makes you want to fix them early. Spec doesn't like early."
We moved on. The Mimic followed, quiet. Thump-thump softened to thump… thump. It kept its lid shut. Teeth quiet.
At the next trap, Marla gestured. "Your turn. Slow."
I knelt. The chalk felt heavier today. Or my arms were. Hard to tell. I pressed. The stone resisted, but not much. I waited. Pressed again. The line took.
Behind me, the Mimic shifted. It didn't move closer. Just watched.
The trap steadied. No drama.
The bell rang once. Soft.
"Good," Marla said. "Again."
By the fourth fix, my hands stopped shaking. By the sixth, the dungeon felt like it was breathing with me instead of against me. Not friendly. Just… predictable.
We reached the break nook without meaning to. The Please Keep Moving sign had fallen over. Marla righted it with her boot.
"You eat?" she asked.
"Protein bar," I said. "Mostly."
She handed me a new one. Same wrapper. Same question mark. "Union says probation burns calories."
I ate. The Mimic watched. Didn't beg. Didn't lick. Just sat there, dented and patient.
"Good," I told it, quietly.
It wagged its lid once. Thump.
Marla watched that. Didn't say anything. Made a note on her clipboard that she didn't tear off.
When we got back to work, the dungeon threw us something small. A loose plate. A whining rune. Fixable. Normal.
At the end of shift, Marla stopped me at the clock-out slab. "You did okay today."
"That's the review?"
"That's the good version."
I clocked out. The stone buzzed. Didn't bite.
As I walked toward the mouth of the dungeon, the Mimic followed until the threshold. Then it stopped.
"Hey," I said. "You coming?"
It didn't move. It sat at the line, obedient for once.
Marla leaned against the wall. "Observation rule," she said. "It stays inside."
I nodded. My chest did the tight thing again.
The Mimic made a small noise. Not sad. Just… there.
"See you tomorrow," I said, and meant it.
It thumped once in reply.
I stepped into daylight smelling like rust and chalk and work done to spec.
Corrective action logged.
Shift complete.