Mirelle looked at the final page of the manual. Someone—a previous archivist, perhaps the original author—had scratched a desperate note in the margin with a needle:
She picked up her stylus. And turned back to Chapter 1. odme manual
The ink shimmered. The words rearranged themselves mid-sentence, forming a new instruction she had never seen before: If the Engine begins to correct its own corrections, do not close the lid. Do not speak. Walk backwards out of the chamber. The ODME is no longer reading history. It is writing it. A low hum rose through the floor. The chains on the lectern rattled. Mirelle looked at the final page of the manual