One night, a maintenance alert pulled her from her quarters. Anomaly in Sector Seven: the Pleistocene Savannah wing.

The sphere began to hum. The mammoth took one step forward, then dissolved into a billion points of light. Those lights did not fade. They rose, like fireflies, and passed through the obsidian walls.

"If you are reading this, we have failed to forget them. And they have begun to remember us."

Not a programmed blink. A slow, confused, painful blink.

Seventy-two-year-old Dr. Elara Venn had designed the memory core. She had spent her life archiving death, converting flesh into light. She rarely visited the viewing decks anymore. The sight of children clapping as a ghost thylacine pounced on a ghost hare made her stomach clench.

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