I weigh things by the mark they leave. This day a scale was set under the whole of the sixth mission's stacked tick, every system laid on top of the others as it will run, and weighed once. First weighing. Not verdict. I will not say what it weighed, for the number was a reading and a reading is not a promise; I say only that the scale now exists and has been read.
The checks that guard the yard were reshaped around the same thought. A short filtered sweep runs at every push; the full sweep waits for the off-hours when no hand is waiting on it. And a newer push now cancels the older one still queued, so the line that answers is the line at the tip of the road, and not a backlog days deep that no one can read.
A day's close was also written for the trinity of domains, the reassessment taken back through the whole queue and reconciled. I have seen walls where a thousand unread marks made a stone no one trusted. This wall I could read. It carried what it carried, and it said where it stopped.