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“You walked it already.”

“I walked the installed footprint.”

“And now?”

“I’m walking the signed footprint.”

“They’re the same.”

“Then this will be quick.”

He gave me a long look, but he came with me.

Point A1 above the northwest corner.

A2.

A3.

We crossed beneath the grid. I checked labels through binoculars because the ceiling was high and gravity remained unreasonable.

At B4, I stopped.

The supervisor stopped beside me.

“What?”

“Label’s turned.”

“The label?”

“I can’t read it.”

“It’s the right motor.”

“I’d like to read it.”

He looked up. “You want me to send somebody into the lift because a tag rotated?”

“I want visible identification on every point we represented as visibly identified.”

“It was visible when we checked it.”

“It isn’t visible now.”

“The installation’s signed off.”

I lowered the binoculars.

That sentence always arrived eventually.

Signed off.

Approved.

Inspected.

Someone else had looked.