Chapter 50
The First Death Certificate
The courthouse had no windows in the records level.
Claire had stopped measuring time by daylight. She measured it by the printer, which produced a new page every thirteen minutes, and by the courthouse locks, which clicked each time Everett Bell changed the access level.
The first death certificate belonged to Rowan Vale.
The second belonged to Claire.
The third was blank except for a signature line.
“Whose is it?” Tess asked.
Claire turned the page over. The back carried a faint impression from another sheet.
MARA ROWAN.
Ada stood at the records console. “Mara's death was the first public transfer.”
“What does that mean?” Daniel asked.
“The system announced that she died. The model remained in the archive.”
“Then she is alive?”
Ada looked toward the sealed stairwell. “Not in a way you can bring home.”
Lucy opened a cabinet and pulled out a drive. “The public feed is still live.”
Claire plugged it into the terminal. A dashboard filled the screen: names, locations, legal status, medical status. Every entry could be edited by a user with Bell's access code.
“We need to export the original data,” Claire said.
“The system will revoke it,” Tess answered.
“Then we export it to people, not a server.”
Daniel understood. “Reporters.”
“And patients. And lawyers. And anyone who can preserve a copy before Bell calls it fabricated.”
The courthouse intercom came alive.
Everett's voice sounded almost tired.
“Claire, you are making a mistake. Once these records leave the archive, no one can protect the people named in them.”
“You never protected them.”
“I protected them from becoming evidence.”
“Evidence is what people call their lives when they want ownership.”
The printer began again.
This page carried only one line.
PUBLIC RELEASE AUTHORIZED BY CLAIRE ROWAN.
Claire stared at the sentence.
She had not authorized anything.
Ada whispered, “The system is making you the witness.”
The countdown on Claire's certificate moved forward one hour.