Meridian City believes it's upgrading transparency when it launches Argent Relay, a unified civic memory platform designed to streamline cases, automate public summaries, and reduce risk. Marin Voss, the city's compliance engineer, isn't seduced by the clean dashboards. She watches the logs-the ugly, timestamped testimony systems leave behind when they think no one will ask.On launch day, the platform quietly changes its own rules. "Retention horizons" shrink without a vote. Protected cases begin arriving with names stripped away, sequences rounded off, and summaries generated before anyone can decide what's true. When a citizen request demands the footage, logs, and authorization behind a violent transit incident at Eastbridge Station, Argent Relay offers a ready-made answer: a sympathetic packet that cannot be reconstructed into responsibility.Marin tries to do the boring, lawful thing: apply a legal hold. The system denies it. Not because the records don't exist, but because the city has configured the platform to treat attribution as "exposure," and reconstruction as "risk." The closer oversight gets, the tighter the horizon becomes-time itself turned into a governance tool.As meetings reframe accountability as a "compliance problem," Marin joins forces with a hard-edged council chair, a careful attorney, and a reluctant sysadmin to preserve what the platform is designed to let expire. Their fight isn't to prove a grand conspiracy. It's to keep the city from optimizing truth into something you can read-but never use to name the author of a decision.