The Error Warehouse makes no sound when new data floods in — no beeps, no flashing lights, just a series of neat lines of text on the screen.
Last night the data came in quickly. Today… it’s completely silent.
Lam looked at the pending files, shifted his position, and opened file 447-19-8832 again.
Under that familiar gaze, the “Error List” line was still empty — so empty that it felt… unsettling.
He opened a few other files simultaneously to compare.
447-12-5523 — 8 hours short of deadline, lost responsibility points.
447-85-1210 — Incorrect province code entered, affecting resource allocation.
447-20-0099 — 2 duplicate errors: incorrect report, parameter selection violation.
Each of those records had a few errors, sometimes dozens.
And 447-19-8832
Not a single line.
Not a single spelling mistake.
Not a single flag.
Not a single trace code.
Lam shrugged, muttering to himself, “This system is really strange…”
He closed the tabs and opened the internal verification tool.
In the Error Repository, each “mutant” record needs to be cross-checked with the main server.
The process is:
Pull logs multicast
Run cross-check code
Match who created, who modified, who flagged
He sat typing.
The secondary screen flashed command lines.
“Not an error code,” the red line blinked.
The next line: “No trace found.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Not a server error.
Not a crash.
This… it’s simply blank.
Lam shuddered.
He quickly called Ops Support—the backend system department.
The other end answered, their voice still sleepy.
"—447-19-8832? There's never been an error reported in the queue…"
"—Log server can't create a trace?" Lâm asked.
"—Yes. It doesn't return any error codes. Like…it never existed on the backend system at all."
Ops fell silent.
Then they said:
"—Try checking the new guideline that was updated last night?"
Lâm frowned.
A new guideline? He didn't know what had changed in the regulations.
That was rare—legal revisions always go through a council and are publicly disclosed.
The new guideline trailer was hundreds of pages long.
He scrolled to the bottom, slowly reading:
…Records with unidentified errors will be processed automatically using an algorithmic approach…
“Algorithmic approach”?
That phrase had never been in the official process. It had never been discussed in the technical council.
And no one on the Archivist team had ever heard of it.
Lam looked at the words as if they were a c***k in the truth.
The error-free file wasn't deleted.
It was… transferred to a different mechanism?
He placed his hand on the keyboard, intending to query the algorithm directly.
Before he could type further, a small line flashed just below the cursor:
ANOMALY MATCH FOUND.
No alarm.
No bell.
Just a fleeting line of text, fading away as if it had never existed.
His heart pounded.
Lam gritted his teeth, looking back at the screen.
His eyes were fixed on the words—for the first time since entering the profession, he saw a sign that couldn't be explained by pure logic.
And only one thought echoed in his head:
This is the first time I've seen it… and this isn't an error.