On my last night as a man with a pulse, I pressed my thumb to the cold glass of dv-874. The device didn't hum; it listened . Its single lens, dark as a frozen lake, caught the tremor in my breath.
"State your trace," it whispered—not in words, but in the vibration against my sternum. dv-874
dv-874 recorded that. Not as audio. As a scar. On my last night as a man with