The Last Archivist - Chapters 7 through 9
The Last Archivist - continued
Chapter 7
Rowan pulled Elias into a side passage.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “They’re going to scan you again.”
“So?”
“So if they find another missing memory or see the memories of our conversation…” Rowan didn’t finish.
Footsteps echoed closer. Elias’s heart pounded.
“I don’t know how to fix it!”
“You don’t fix it,” Rowan said. “You use it.”
“What? How?”
Rowan shoved him toward a control panel. “Think of something you don’t want them to see. One of the memories you’ve touched,” he said. “Then let it go.”
Elias thought about how he had tried to experiment with forgetting. His thoughts scattered in every direction.
“Do it!” Rowan snapped.
The officers turned the corner. Elias shut his eyes. Think. Think. He pictured the missing moment. The girl dropping her books. The gap. The blank space.
And then -
He pushed away the memories he had uncovered. Not hiding it. Not covering it. Letting it fall.
No emotions.
No attachments.
Gone.
He wasn't upset about the Archive. It simply didn't matter. Like slowly dropping stones into still water and watching no ripples form.
The scanner beam hit him. A sharp blue light swept over his body.
Paused. Flickered. The officers froze. “What just happened?” one demanded.
Elias opened his eyes. His heart slowed.
“It didn’t find anything,” Rowan whispered.
For the first time since he had been labeled Imperfect, Elias felt something dangerously close to hope.
The officers stepped closer. “Scan again.”
The beam passed over Elias. Again. Nothing. The system couldn’t read what wasn’t there.
Elias looked at Rowan.
They can’t control what they can’t see, he realized.
If a memory carried no emotional weight, the system couldn’t find it.
Rowan whispered to him, “Now they know… that you know.”
The alarms stopped, but the silence that followed was worse. They were watching him.
Chapter 8
And in the stillness that followed - in the first real calm he had felt in weeks - Elias understood.
If the Archive held memory— Then he held its absence.
And absence could break it. He didn’t know how yet. But hope allowed him to believe it was possible.
The officers never gave up their pursuit of catching him forgetting a memory. Today one officer entered the corridor.
“Elias Varn,” one called. “Step forward.”
Elias looked over. Calm now. Clear. He stepped toward them. And smiled. Because he knew something they could never take from him.
How to forget.
The Archive was the only one who could choose what remained. But it couldn't control what he forgot and didn't react to. Knowing wasn’t enough anymore. Now it was time to act.
After the officer left, Rowan said, "They aren't going to let up on you. They will try to break you."
Elias said, "Then I'll break them first."
Rowan pushed off the wall, one eyebrow raised. "And just how, pray tell, do you plan on doing that?"
"I have an idea...."
Blaring alarms interrupted his thoughts. Red lights flashed. The alarm didn’t stop. It got louder.
“Move!” Rowan snapped.
Elias didn’t argue. They ran. Boots pounded behind them—Retrieval Officers flooding the corridor, their gray coats slicing through the red flashing lights.
“LEFT!” Rowan shouted.
Elias slid around the corner just as a blue scan beam blasted past his shoulder.
The wall behind him crackled.
“If that hits you again, they’ll override your brain!” Rowan yelled.
“GOOD TO KNOW!” Elias shouted back.
They burst into a narrow passage—no lights, just emergency glow strips flickering along the floor.
“Where are we going?” Elias asked, breathless.
“The Core,” Rowan said.
“What’s that?”
Rowan didn’t slow down.
“It’s where the system decides what gets remembered… and what gets erased.”
Elias quickened his pace. “That’s where we shut it down.”
In front of them —
“STOP!”
A voice cut through everything. Cold. Calm. Controlled.
Rowan froze. Elias ran into him. At the end of the corridor stood a man in black—not gray like the others.
Still. Perfectly still.
“Head Archivist Kaine,” Rowan whispered.
Chapter 9
Kaine stepped forward slowly. No rush. No fear.
“I was hoping it was you, Rowan,” he said. “You always did have… inconvenient instincts.”
His eyes shifted to Elias. “And you,” he said, studying him. “You’re the anomaly.”
Elias swallowed hard—but didn’t step back.
“You’re deleting memories,” Elias said.
Kaine smiled faintly. “Of course we are.”
The officers stopped behind the boys, waiting.
“You told everyone nothing is forgotten,” Elias said.
“We preserve what matters,” Kaine replied smoothly.
He gestured toward the endless Archive. The Core was so close.
“You saw the regret, didn’t you?” Kaine said. “The fear. The mistakes.”
Elias didn’t answer. “You felt how powerful it is,” Kaine continued. “How it shapes behavior. Prevents chaos.”
“That’s control. You're trying to play God.” Elias shot back.
Kaine’s smile sharpened. “Yes.”
Silence.
“People don’t need every memory,” Kaine said. “They need the right ones.”
He stepped closer. “They need to remember what keeps them obedient.”
Elias’s hands clenched. “You’re deciding who people are.”
Kaine tilted his head. “No,” he said softly. “I’m deciding who they don’t become.”
Rowan leaned closer. “Don’t listen. He’s stalling.”
Kaine heard. “Run, then,” he laughed.
The officers still hadn’t moved. No arrest. No restraints. No drones.
The white light flooded the corridor, almost blinding.
“RUN!” Rowan shouted. They bolted.
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