They argued in the language of risks and statutes. In the end, they did what people always did when they were uncertain: they made a bargain.

Bishop laughed and did not laugh. "I killed someone," he said finally, the confession falling like a stone. "I didn't mean to—" The sentence unraveled into something else and stopped. He wanted the day gone. He wanted a second version of himself: a digital twin that would carry his memories, love, and guilt into the machine and never suffocate in the world again.