I didn't leave the station immediately.
Not because I was testing limits.
Because something didn't add up.
Archived Authority had worked too smoothly.
No confirmation prompts.No fallback checks.No system friction.
That wasn't how permissions were granted.
That was how they were left behind.
I leaned against the platform railing and watched the transit capsule depart. The system registered the exit, logged the movement, and immediately forgot it.
I checked the interface again.
[ARCHIVED AUTHORITY — LIMITED]Status: ActiveScope: Legacy InfrastructureEscalation Override: Passive
No source listed.
No issuer.
No timestamp of assignment.
That was wrong.
Every active permission had a trail. Even temporary ones. Especially temporary ones.
This didn't.
Which meant I hadn't been granted anything.
I'd been recognized.
I replayed the interaction step by step.
The scanner hadn't verified my identity.
It hadn't checked rank, lineage, or clearance.
It had simply… hesitated.
And then moved on.
Archived systems didn't authenticate users.
They checked for remnants.
Ownership markers. Access flags. Administrative signatures that were never fully removed because no one expected them to be used again.
That was when it clicked.
I hadn't gained authority.
I'd matched something that no longer had an owner.
The archive wasn't just a collection of abandoned projects.
It was the aftermath of a removal.
Something—someone—had been erased cleanly enough that no one bothered to finish dismantling what they left behind.
Projects archived.Oversight terminated.Permissions left dormant.
Not dangerous.
Just… irrelevant.
Until now.
I checked my existence flag.
[PERSONAL INTERFACE]Existence Flag: Unregistered (Maintained)
Unregistered.
Not invalid.
Not restricted.
Just absent from active oversight.
That absence lined up too well.
The archived systems weren't asking who I was.
They were asking whether I still fit a shape.
And I did.
I tested it again—carefully.
A maintenance terminal near the platform wall. The kind that required mid-level authorization to access logs.
I didn't touch Shadow.
I didn't manipulate anything.
I simply placed my hand on the interface.
The terminal paused.
Processing.
Then opened the menu.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]Legacy Marker DetectedOversight Check: Skipped
There it was.
Not approval.
Not access.
A skipped step.
Because no one had defined what to do if this marker ever reappeared.
I withdrew my hand and closed the menu immediately.
Confirmation achieved.
This wasn't power.
It was liability management failing quietly.
Some department, facility, or individual had been removed—politically, administratively, or socially—without a full cleanup.
Their projects were archived.
Their authority was never fully revoked.
And when I entered the system with no registered contradictions, I filled the gap.
Not because I was chosen.
Because the world had stopped caring.
That explained the limits.
Why it only worked on legacy infrastructure.Why escalation wasn't canceled—just delayed.Why overuse would draw attention.
The authority wasn't transferable.
It wasn't renewable.
It was finite neglect.
And once exhausted, it would vanish.
I straightened and stepped away from the platform.
I had no interest in pushing it further today.
Understanding a tool mattered more than using it.
If I treated this like a privilege, I'd lose it.
If I treated it like residue—
Something fragile, something temporary—
Then it would last.
As I exited the station, the city accepted me again without pause.
No scanners lingered.
No alerts followed.
I checked the interface one last time.
[ARCHIVED AUTHORITY — LIMITED]Usage Today: MinorIntegrity: Stable
Note:Excessive interaction may trigger cleanup protocols.
Cleanup.
That word mattered.
Someone, somewhere, would eventually notice the loose ends.
But not yet.
Not while the systems continued to function.
Not while nothing broke.
I walked back toward my apartment, already adjusting my behavior.
No repeated access.No patterns.No escalation chains.
Authority like this wasn't meant to be used.
It was meant to be existed around.
And as long as I remained insignificant—
The world would continue pretending I belonged nowhere.
That was fine.
I didn't need a place.
I just needed time.