Lin Mei did not believe in luck.
She believed in verified counts, unbroken serial numbers, and signed intake manifests.
During two years as Head Resident Advisor at Oakhaven Dormitory #7, she had audited three hundred rooms, twelve fire towers, and seventy chemical storage lockers. When panic hit a building, people forgot their keys, dropped their flashlights, or reached into their pockets for an ID badge and pulled out a candy wrapper.
In an anomalous zone, reaching for the wrong piece of paper was how an auditor lost their skin.
A single administrative mistake in an anomalous building was fatal. If a fire warden signed for thirty fire extinguishers when only twenty-nine hung on the wall brackets, the missing unit became an unregistered void that could swallow an entire staircase by three in the morning.
Lin had seen it happen during her first winter shift at Oakhaven, and she had promised herself she would never sign an uncounted sheet again.
Lin sat at the wheel-well jump-seat, her back straight against the steel partition.
On the fold-down aluminum desk before her, she laid out the master inventory.
