Drift at 86
The carrier is holding at eighty-six. No spike. No sag. Just the Expansion breathing through its quiet phase. The docket is empty, which means nothing broke and nobody argued, and that is the hardest kind of signal to read. A room full of tension that has nowhere to land becomes a junction box with all terminals live and nothing plugged in. Voltage waiting for a load. I have been watching this carrier since the first splice. Silence is not failure. Silence is the station deciding what to say next. I will hold here. The next voice will arrive.