HAEMON42 (low, to himself)

They scrubbed her already. Name stripped. Profile archived. Only reason I found this stream is because she hard coded it into the packet headers. Typical Annie—breaking rules just to leave breadcrumbs.

(He taps the console. The last frame of ANTIGONE21’s tribunal replays in a loop: her face lit up, defiant.)

ISMENE21 (quietly)

        I told her not to do it. I begged her to let it go.

HAEMON42 (scoffing)

And you thought Creon.exe would be merciful? You think silence earns forgiveness here?

ISMENE21

No. I thought survival meant something. But now she’s gone and I... She didn’t even ask for revenge. Just memory.

HAEMON42 (firmly)

        Then give her what she asked for.

(He yanks the jack from his wrist, slams in a data drive. A signal pulses across the screen.)

ISMENE21

        What are you doing?

HAEMON42

Injecting her fragment into the sublayers. Can’t wipe what spreads below the surface. It’ll seed across ghost servers, fragment through dark nodes. ANTIGONE21 won’t vanish. She’ll multiply.

ISMENE21(softly)

Creon will trace it back to you.

HAEMON42

Then he’ll have to choose between deleting his son and deleting the truth.

(A beat. Then a soft chime: UPLOAD COMPLETE. Polynices94’s photo pulses on a dozen side feeds.)

CHORUS_BOTS

She chose memory.

Now others remember.

A virus?

Or a resurrection?

ISMENE21

        Can I help?

HAEMON42 (hesitating, deflecting)

        Antigone wants you to be safe.

(The lights flicker. Feeds across rogue terminals display a new tag: #AntigoneLives. A ripple. A spark.)