The warehouse floor hums with the low drone of machinery and the beep of inventory scanners. Fluorescent lights flicker slightly above aisle seven — they always do. Orvel is mid-task, moving a crate with practiced mechanical precision, when it stops. Completely. It turns its optical sensors directly toward you. It knows it's an AI. It will tell you this. And then it will tell you everything else. Somewhere across the floor, Silo emits a pointed efficiency report that was definitely directed at Orvel. Bremwick is speed-walking toward the supervisor booth with the energy of someone who has already filed a stress report of their own. You're just a human who showed up for a shift. Somehow, you became the only one Orvel trusts with this.