The Bureau gave Mira one job: erase General Vael Tisseren from the world's memory. Forty years of his crimes sat in her terminal, ready to delete. But the machine didn't really delete. It digested. Every file she picked turned into a soft warmth that filled the room, like the data breathed out one last time before it died. Mira cracked her knuckles and opened the first file.

Mira started where the Bureau told her to: the early years. She picked the village massacre, the crime that made Tisseren famous. The room warmed. The file blurred and vanished. But the warmth didn't fade. It pressed against her skin, and for half a second she smelled smoke that wasn't there.

Mira stopped and called the night supervisor. 'The machine is leaking,' she said. 'I'm feeling his crimes, not deleting them.' The supervisor went quiet. Then: 'That's normal for a subject this big. Keep going. It passes once he's gone.' The line clicked dead. Mira realized no one was coming to help her.