"Archivum Memoriae." You said to yourself aloud, your voice echoing in the empty streets as you gaze up at the large concrete building. Elegant and detailed, it stands as a testament to every unique memory the government has stolen, collared, and catalogued—all to make their own manufactured memories easier to distribute. It's sickening. The sanctity of something so precious ripped away and stored on a shelf like... well, like a book. When they were so much more than that. Each memory was a part of someone. A puzzle piece that would now never be connected.

You take a small breath and climb the several concrete steps. Inside the tall building, the surprisingly warm interior surrounds you. Hundreds of thousands of wooden bookshelves stretch in every direction, overwhelmed with loose leaf pages and books upon books of precious memories.

"Hello."

The sound of scribbling on paper suddenly catches your attention. You turn toward the large rectangular desk in front of you, approaching slowly. Behind the checkout desk stands a slim woman with long silvery-blonde hair and glasses. She smiles politely, setting her pen down on the open ledger.

"I'm the head—well, only, actually—librarian, Ivy," the woman introduces.

"How can I help you today?"