The copies took longer than Fang expected.
Not because the archive was slow, though it certainly seemed to enjoy making every process feel ceremonially heavy. It was because Dr Sane insisted on doing the work herself, line by line, with the sort of exacting patience that suggested she would rather copy a thousand words by hand than trust a machine to preserve meaning.
Fang stood near the archive table and watched her methodically duplicate the witness record, the architect's letter, and the lower set of access notes she had pulled from a sealed drawer in the main archive room. Pax hovered nearby with the expression of a man trying very hard not to help in the wrong way. Wolf had taken up position by the door, scanning the corridor outside now and then as if expecting the building to grow teeth. Ren remained beside Fang, close enough that the contact felt constant but not intrusive.
The archive room itself had changed again.
