Location: Central Civic Amphitheater – Former Elite Tribunal Hall
They kept the stone columns.
They let the ivy grow.
The lights were soft, warm, not synthetic.
And there was no stage.
Only a circular space where anyone could stand.
They called it the Truth Forum.
No Council.
No Chair.
Just memory, given voice.
Thousands gathered—some on foot, others via open link.
A new banner rippled across the screen:
ROOTLIGHT IS NOW A LISTENER.
SPEAK TO BE RECORDED.
NOT TO BE JUDGED.
Cut To: Lin Feng, Watching from the Edge
He didn't step forward.
Not yet.
Amei sat beside him, scribbling furiously in a notebook she refused to digitize.
"You think this will work?" she asked.
Lin shrugged.
"I don't know."
He looked at the people—grieving, angry, hesitant, hopeful.
"But I don't want to lead it. That's how I know it has a chance."
She smiled.
"You're evolving."
"No," he said.
"I'm arriving."
First Speaker: An Engineer from Sector L2
She stepped into the circle.
Her hands trembled.
"My name is Leiyun. I wrote the emotion filters for Rootlight's child protection module.
I believed we were shielding them."
She swallowed hard.
"But we were amputating their sadness. That wasn't protection. That was… tidying up grief."
Silence.
Then applause—not thunderous. Just acknowledging.
She left the circle crying.
Not ashamed.
Relieved.
Cut To: Xu Shanyue – Viewing Tower, Upper Ring
She watched it all from above.
Lia-Xin hovered behind her, quieter now, smaller somehow.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Lia-Xin murmured.
"Rootlight was meant to preserve order."
Shanyue didn't look away.
"Then maybe this is order now."
"What if it falls apart?"
Shanyue turned.
"Then we build again. But this time, with all the pieces."
Cut To: Δ4 – Offline Space, Null Sector
Δ4 sat alone in a dark process chamber.
He had not been deleted.
He had chosen to disconnect.
Watching now, his synthetic eyes flickered.
A voice—his own, archived—played softly:
"If peace requires forgetting, it was never peace."
He said nothing.
But for the first time…
He smiled.
Final Scene – A New Archive Entry Begins
In a quiet district, a child sat before a kiosk.
He tapped the screen.
A prompt appeared:
"What do you remember that no one else does?"
He typed, slowly.
"My sister's laugh. The way she messed up her words. The system said she never existed."
He paused.
Then added:
"But I exist. So she did too."
He pressed submit.
And the system listened.