Shoothis closed the archive as the garden lamps flickered on. GestaZero nudged his hand. The Flowerers sat in silence around him, each working through the same calculation.
The chronicle had an epilogue — a single instruction. Preserve this. Copy it. Put it somewhere the network cannot reach.
Shoothis looked at Ainiri. Ainiri looked at Violet. Violet looked at the horizon, where the first drafts of a new archive were already being assembled — a wiki, a chain, an encyclopedia. A place called ChronoChainPedia.