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Whoever named it that didn't just want to save a picture of a road trip. They wanted to ensure that in the infinite sea of human data, this exact second in time—this exact viewpoint of a storm rolling over an old tower—could never be confused with anything else.

He expected a smoking gun, perhaps a scanned document or a incriminating screenshot. Instead, the image that filled his monitor was breathtakingly ordinary, which somehow made it worse.

For hours, Elias ran the image through geographical databases. He searched for the architecture of the tower, the specific species of the yellow wildflowers, and the curve of the highway. Just before midnight, a match popped up on a satellite mapping forum. It was a stretch of road in the Scottish Highlands, miles from any major town.

In his line of work as a digital forensic recovery specialist, most files were mundane. They were spreadsheets of forgotten expenses, blurry vacation photos, or duplicates of tax forms. But this one was different. It sat alone in a partition that had been intentionally, aggressively corrupted. Someone had tried to burn this specific memory to the ground.