The voice came through every speaker at once. It was almost gentle.
Zhou Qin opened the log before the announcement had finished. Her handwriting filled the early pages, then changed halfway through the final entry. She frowned at the change, not like someone recognizing a forgery, but like someone discovering a familiar road inside her own house.
There were no arrivals recorded for any of you.
Chen Mo examined the maintenance door. The lock had not rusted shut. He knew where to press the panel, which tool the mechanism would need, and why forcing it would be dangerous. When Zhou Qin asked how he knew, he could offer no memory to support the answer.
Lin Lan placed her yellow ticket beside the log. The paper remained dry despite the water creeping across the floor. You put yours next to it. Two tickets, alike in every visible respect, except that she seemed afraid of hers and you were only afraid of losing it.
Paper could outlast a changed recollection. A document could remain in your hand after you had forgotten who gave it to you. That was the first rule you could test without trusting anyone's account.
The mirror was less accommodating.
Its five shadows shifted with the four of you, but not always at the same time. One lagged behind when Zhou Qin turned a page. Another seemed to stand closer to Chen Mo than its owner really was. You could not yet tell whether the mirror showed an extra person, a missing one, or a memory the room had refused to surrender.
The voice asked whether anyone had heard their name.
Nobody answered.
A second click followed. Somewhere behind the walls, a mechanism advanced by one position. The station was counting, even if it had not yet told you what would happen when it finished.