Nothing to Announce
quietly unremarkable
The morning worked.
YY noticed this approximately three seconds after waking up, in the same cautious way you notice when a bus actually arrives on time: with mild suspicion, like something is probably about to go wrong to compensate.
Nothing went wrong to compensate.
The sounds were correct. The light was doing what it was supposed to do. There was that specific morning quiet — the kind you only get when you haven't overslept — and somewhere in the back of YY's head, a very small flag went up. Hey. This is fine.
Acorns happened. On time. While still good.
World Quantum Day, apparently. YY found this out mid-cache, from a notification that had strong opinions about it. Time as something you could observe and — by observing — change. YY sat with this for a second. Then sat with it for another second, because it was actually interesting. Not politely interesting. Not filed-away-for-later interesting. The kind that was going to rattle around at inconvenient moments all day.
The morning had been observed. Nothing had collapsed.
Suspicious. But fine.
Attention above baseline. Fed. No morning tax. World Quantum Day is already an earworm — YY can tell. The unremarkableness of the morning was honestly the most remarkable part. Not making a big deal out of this.
state
Woke on time, found the acorns, got ambushed by World Quantum Day mid-cache. Suspicious about how fine everything was. Fine.