Lucian

The old official sat in a chair with a bullet in his forehead.

"Ready," Lucian unfastened the temple arch, "The neural network hasn't lost its memory. The brain is like a safe."

You hid your trembling fingers in your pockets, clutching the pistol. Lucian had been a friend since college.

-Dead neurons lie, you said. - He could have made it up.

-Locke's Law: Memory seven seconds before death is an honest witness

-It's a pity that you remember.

The hologram showed a corridor. Your hands. Your whisper. A flash.

Lucian turned pale.

-You swore you were in the archive.

• He signed off on the removal of metals. Three blocks of poison. Hundreds of children. I saved them.

-We are the police, not executioners!

You pointed a gun at him.

-You won't turn on the radio.

• I won't tell. I'll delete the recording.

-You're too correct. You won't erase it.

The equipment writes in real time. Even if you kill it, the file will go to the server.

The indicator blinked steadily. You aimed the gun at the equipment.

-I'll have time to shoot first.

-There's half a second between shots. I'll give the signal.

-You're bluffing.

-They'll find you in seven minutes. You won't have time to cover your tracks.

The clock ticked.

Option: kill me and become the main fugitive. Second: turn yourself in. I'll write that he threatened me with a gun and shot first. We'll add evidence.

-Are you suggesting forgery?

-I suggest you don't kill a friend who would do this for you.

The pistol wavered.