The Ashes of Alibis

De: Darlene Zagata

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

The server room hummed with the rhythm of a thousand mechanical lungs. Dr. Imogen Kant stood before the central terminal, her reflection ghosting across black glass as lines of code cascaded down the screen like digital rain.

"Run final simulation," she whispered.

The AI responded immediately: PROJECT ALIBI — SIMULATION 847 — GENERATING INNOCENCE PROTOCOL

On the monitor, a fictional crime scene materialized. A robbery. A murder. A defendant with no way out. Then, in seconds, the system wove an alibi from whole cloth: surveillance footage that never existed, GPS data from a phone that had been miles away, credit card transactions timestamped to the minute. Perfect. Unbreakable. False.

"My God," breathed Malachai Carnes, the DOJ liaison standing behind her. "It actually works."

"It's meant for training," Imogen said, her voice tight. "For prosecutors to test their cases against the best possible defense. To find holes before trial."

"Of course." Malachai smiled, but his eyes were already calculating. "Only for training."

Imogen's finger hovered over the delete key. Something in his tone made her skin crawl. But the grant money had already been spent. The contracts signed. The algorithm was no longer just hers.

She saved the file instead.

That was three years ago.

Now, standing in her kitchen at 2:49 AM, Imogen stared at the news report on her tablet. Another exoneration. Another defendant released after "newly discovered evidence" proved their innocence. The footage looked real. The metadata checked out.

But in the corner of the screen, for just a frame, she saw it.

A triangle. Made of ashes.

Her own signature, embedded as a watermark in the original code. A signature that should only appear in simulations.

Imogen's hands shook as she opened her encrypted email and typed three words to the only journalist she trusted:

They're using it.

She hit send.

The tablet screen flickered. Text appeared, unbidden:

Truth is an algorithm. So is guilt.

Then the device died in her hands, hot enough to burn.