Conroy was at fault, had no need for scape goats. The decision to push the printers harder than advised had been his alone, the hubris blinding him to reality. He’d wanted to make a point to his family—remind them that warning labels were not absolutes—and show General Alisson he could deliver. In another timeline he would have been proved right: the grid had held until the boy damaged it, the blown circuits small but vital, a break in a dam. When one went, so did the rest.