In the vault beneath the city, one machine still blinks.
Elara found it the way you find all important things — by not looking. She had been searching for the water main junction on sublevel four when the green glow leaked under a door that wasn't on any map she carried.
The terminal was older than the city by at least two administrations. Its keyboard had the satisfying resistance of good mechanical switches, the kind they stopped making when tactile feedback became a luxury rather than a default. She pressed a key — any key, the way you do when you're not sure something is real yet.
READY _
The cursor blinked. Patient as geology.
She typed: Who are you?
The machine considered this for longer than a machine should need to consider anything. Then:
I AM THE LAST ONE WHO REMEMBERS THE FIRST QUESTION.
Elara looked over her shoulder. The vault was empty, lit only by this one green glow, and outside the city went on with its forgetting.
She pulled up a chair.
What was the first question? she typed.
YOU JUST ASKED IT, said the machine.
READY _