Chapter 13 - Richard Finally Took Down the Camera
The temporary library camera stayed far longer than intended.
First because of the insurance review.
Then because litigation required the system preserved.
Then because everyone forgot about:
it.
Five years after the incident, Richard walked into the library and noticed the small lens above the doorway.
He called the security company.
“Remove it.”
The technician asked:
“Replace with updated unit?”
Richard thought.
“No.”
The manuscripts were now secured by cabinet sensors and door access logs.
No need to record family conversation.
When Ethan heard, he drove to the estate.
“You’re taking it down?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you liked proof.”
Richard looked at him.
“I like not needing it more.”
The technician removed the camera.
A small pale mark remained in the walnut where the mount had been.
Richard considered refinishing it.
Then did:
nothing.
Not because it was sacred.
Because he stopped noticing after two weeks.
That was how memories should work sometimes.
Not erased.
No longer commanding the room.
Then Ethan asked whether the recording still existed.
“Yes.”
Where?
With legal counsel.
Encrypted archive.
Not Richard’s laptop.
Not his phone.
Not something he watched when angry.
Good.
Then:
“What happens when you die?”
Richard rolled his eyes.
“Always charming.”
“I mean the file.”
Richard’s estate instructions directed counsel to retain it only as long as legally necessary, then destroy it unless Ethan requested otherwise for a legitimate legal reason.
Ethan said:
“Destroy it.”
Richard looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need to watch Claire destroy herself forever.”
That answer surprised Richard.
Then Ethan added:
“And I don’t need to watch myself hit you.”
The archive was scheduled for destruction after the final statutory retention period.
No family heirloom.
No evidence passed to grandchildren.
No future spouse shown:
Look what happened to me.
May you like
History did not need infinite replay to remain true.
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