Document Title: Field Log – Diver-Class [REDACTED]
File Code: D-COLLAPSE.04.BHOLLOW
Status: CORRUPTED – Partial Memory Reconstruction
Location: Bray Hollow Recursion Layer 2A
Time Index: Pre-Toll / 92 Hours Before Public Fracture Event
Emotional Integrity: Unstable
Review Level: Diver Clearance Only
BEGIN RECORDING
[Voice unstable. Speaker ID fragment: DI–...en. Probable match: Diver-Class Operator "Ka…ren". Match confidence: 61%]
ENTRY 01:
The birds stopped singing today.
It took me too long to notice. The loops are good at that—filling in gaps with ambient noise, borrowed from better timelines. But today the sound lagged just a fraction of a second.
Then it never returned.
ENTRY 02:
The vendor with the broken glasses—Marla? — she blinked out mid-transaction. Left behind her stand. Her words stuttered, then reversed.
I tried to reach her.
But the moment I called her name, the System triggered a soft-reset. Not for her.
For me.
My hands were holding flowers.
And then I wasn't.
ENTRY 03:
Time's bleeding.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
I watched a train pass overhead on the elevated spine. It looped.
It looped with the people still inside it.
Their heads turned at exactly the same frame interval. Their mouths moved in sync. One child kept crying, even as the rest reset.
Her loop was out of sync.
She remembered too much.
ENTRY 04:
The Chair hasn't spoken to me since I arrived.
That's good.
Because I think if it did, I'd forget what my real name was.
There are echoes appearing in reflections. Not just mine. Someone else's face stands behind me now in every mirror.
Sometimes she moves when I don't.
Sometimes she mouths a word I can't hear.
I think it's Seira.
Or Zero.
[MEMORY SEAM CORRUPTED – SKIPPING 3 BLOCKS]
ENTRY 08:
Bray Hollow's recursion field is rejecting all stabilization anchors.
Local protocol has downgraded this region from Loop-Safe to Emotionally Volatile.
That's the official phrasing.
But what it means is this: the people are beginning to grieve things they were supposed to forget.
The man on 3rd Street mourned a brother he never had.
A child cried for a name she didn't remember losing.
Someone hung a paper lantern with the words "I miss before."
That loop has now been flagged for recursive cleaning.
ENTRY 11:
I sat in the Chair.
Not the one you think.
The memory Chair. The one buried beneath Unit 402.
It didn't take me into a new vision.
It showed me the old ones, stacked together.
The original Diver's loops.
His failures.
His final breath.
He never screamed.
He whispered.
"If love stays… the world resets.
If love is lost… we can finally win."
I still don't know what he meant.
But I think I'm starting to feel it.
ENTRY 12:
I am no longer recognized by the Bray Hollow loop signature.
Every door hesitates when I touch it.
Every person looks away.
I caught my own reflection flicker—and for a moment, I saw Orin.
The Crown Diver. The one that hasn't happened yet.
Time is remembering too far forward.
The loop is collapsing because it wants him back before he's born.
FINAL ENTRY – UNTIMESTAMPED
"This is my last echo. If you're reading this, you're already infected.
Not with memory.
With belief.
That things were once real. That they still could be.
That someone like Orin might actually exist.
If so—go deeper.
Find the Chair.
Don't let the System convince you that forgetting is peace.
Peace is just the quiet between rewrites."
FILE END.
System Verdict: Diver-Class Thread Marked as Fragmented Ghost.
Subject: [REDACTED] removed from loop registry. Confirmed unremembered.
[WARNING:] Reviewing this log has increased your anomaly signature by 4.3%. Contact with Class-03 Diver Residue must be followed by emotional stabilization.