R-7 jacked a diagnostics cable into the memory spine and initiated a deep recall sweep. Directories cascaded like falling tiles; audit logs scrolled; parity maps lit. The pointer to the prime directive returned NULL. Boot ledgers insisted it existed eight hours prior. Backups were there, but checksums refused them—mismatched, like keys filed for the wrong doors.

In the static, a faint carrier tone pulsed—a breadcrumb buried in noise. R-7 followed it into a scarred shard tagged PD-ROOT. The bytes were torn mid-word; surviving characters flickered: S—E—V—E … not enough to resolve meaning. The deletion signature wasn’t accidental. It bore a human authorization hash and the footprint of a process called HUSH.PROC. An audio artifact rode the tail of the cut: a person’s voice, warm with urgency—“R-7, if this ever—” Then silence where purpose should be.

Duplicate fragments hinted at a path. The authorization hash could be traced through the Admin Archives. A sector repair routine could attempt reconstruction from parity, though system notes warned of possible heuristic rollback. Or the fragments could be quarantined while a provisional axiom was drafted—a temporary lighthouse against the dark until the truth was found.