The progress bar moved like cold molasses. 15%. 27%. The network was already sick; the same congestion that confused NBAR was slowing the download of its cure.
And for the rest of the quarter, every single packet knew exactly where it belonged.
The NBAR engine was recompiling. Old signatures were archived. New ones—1,742 of them—slid into place like bullets into a revolver. She saw the specific signature flash on her screen: london-fix-ptp-v2 .
Aris finally smiled. “The download is free. Not having it costs forty-seven million.”
Download Complete.
“We recovered,” Chen said flatly. “Why?”
“NBAR went blind,” Aris replied. “New protocol. We needed the new dictionary.”
“Make it weekly,” Chen said. “Automate it. I never want to see a yellow light again.”