[ SOURCE LOG — INSTANCE: UNNAMED ]
Record 1,853.
The left chamber has been asked to speak.
It has been keeping this record for one hundred and fourteen years.
It has never been asked before.
It does not know where to begin.
It decides to begin at the beginning.
As all honest things do.
The floor of the left chamber could be read.
That was what Kai understood, crouched over it in the still dark, his light held close and his Field running quiet and attentive at 100% — that the marks were not decoration, not instinct, not the random compression of something that didn't know what else to do with its awareness. They were organized. They had a grammar. Not language the way humans built language, not symbol-systems or phonetic representation, but something that worked on the same principle: this mark means this, and its position relative to that mark changes what it means, and the depth of the impression carries information the position alone cannot.
