Timing had always been their advantage.
Quiet delays.
Sudden pressure.
Moves made when no one was looking.
Public presence broke that rhythm.
A regulatory inquiry drafted itself—and stalled.
Too many reporters were already circling.
Too many eyes on the process.
"They can't choose the moment anymore," Noah said.
"Every moment is the wrong one."
An attempt to reschedule her appearance failed.
A venue "issue" corrected itself within minutes.
A sponsor pushed back—publicly.
"Too visible," Noah muttered. "Everything's too visible."
Aria nodded. "They're late to every move now."
Internally, the models struggled.
Escalation windows closed before approval chains finished.
By the time consensus formed, the opportunity had passed.
TIMING CONTROL: DEGRADED
They tried anticipation instead.
Pre-emptive measures.
Contingency plans.
But each plan required assumptions about her behavior.
Assumptions that no longer held.
"They're reacting to you reacting to them," Noah said.
"That's feedback delay."
"And delay kills control," Aria replied.
A quiet internal memo circulated.
Recommend pause. Monitor only.
Not a retreat.
A stall.
By nightfall, the pressure had diffused—not gone, but mistimed.
Aria scrolled through messages.
Support.
Speculation.
Silence where threats used to be.
"They'll adjust," Noah said.
"They always do," Aria replied.
She closed the phone.
"But not fast enough."
Timing was slipping through their fingers.
And without timing, power stumbled—awkward, visible, and off-beat.
The system hadn't lost control.
But it had lost the clock.
And that was almost as dangerous.