Midv-075

In the quiet after the hearings, Cass returned to the archive room and placed MIDV-075 back into its drawer. She traced her fingers along the edge of the module, thinking of the man who had been brave or cowardly enough to record his role. She did not know if he intended retribution or absolution or merely to unburden himself. Perhaps the act of burying is not about protecting others, but about protecting oneself from forgetting.

MIDV-075 remained on the shelf, waiting like a seed. Someone, someday, might need it again. MIDV-075

"Yes," Cass replied. "For now." She slid the drawer closed. "We keep the original so someone later can question ours." In the quiet after the hearings, Cass returned

"I can scrub this," Mara said. "We can file it with the unremarkables, tag it lost. Or we can feed it to the Registry’s public feed and watch the city rewrite itself again." Perhaps the act of burying is not about

Three weeks later, a small tribunal convened in a cold municipal hall. The Registry’s officials wore neutral expressions. The man's confession, once sealed in MIDV-075, sat at the center like a relic. He had long since passed into the city's statistical memory, but his act—recording and burying his admission—had reverberated beyond his death.