The Curator.

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“When he issued the Emancipation Proclamation, Daniel-Day Lewis announced that black men would be–”

Bob, check this out. The Gutentron made a boo-boo.

A what?

It fucked up.

Impossible. The Gutentron contains 300 million original texts. From Mesopotamia’s Code of Ur-Nammu to Schrödinger’s manuscripts on matrix mechanics. De facto, the world’s knowledge.

See for yourself.

Sweet Jesus… Daniel Day-Lewis?

I think he played Lincoln in that Spielberg flick.

Incredible. The Gutentron is the premier source of scholarship. Circulating billions of bytes around the globe.

Yeah and it fucked up. Don’t freak, man. I'lI fix it.

It’s not a toy, Jimmy. It uses an algorithm that can predict when a pigeon shits in the air. You don’t tell it what to do.

Then why are we here?

To ensure that the machine keeps running. To dust the screen, clean the fan. And more importantly, provide the illusion of oversight.

Bob, it’s a mechanical scribe. Sure, it contains lots of records. But only as reliable as the accounts recorded.

The Gutentron doesn’t log history. It sifts through it. Analyzes it. Harmonizes it.

You mean interprets it. JFK, AIDS, 9/11. Pivotal moments are perceived in many ways.

History is written by the victors?

Too simple. Before the pen hits the page, someone recalls the event. The story that clicks sticks. History isn’t written, it’s remembered.

I don’t understand.

We’re one coup away from a revolution. One deception away from a just war. One leak away from the whole shebang. Truth and history are not twins. They’re doppelgängers.

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