The Historian of Traces

“Raw memories are often crude and chaotic, full of unnecessary details.” Zhou Su’s voice was steady and resonant, as if delivering a philosophy lecture. “Ordinary people don’t need to see bloody killings or experience the trauma of war. What they need is a spirit: fearlessness, conviction, and a willingness to sacrifice themselves for a great ideal.”

“I understand,” Lin Zhi said. “My job is to extract that spirit.”

Zhou Su smiled, his expression warmer this time, reaching his eyes. “That’s why I’ve always admired you, Dr. Lin. You’re not just a technical expert. You also understand the ‘deep grammar’ of history. We need a ninety-minute epic: stirring, moving, and capable of inspiring patriotism. As for those…” He paused, searching for the right words. “The less aesthetically pleasing details of history will need your professional touch.”

“Like surgery,” Lin Zhi said calmly.

“An apt comparison.” Zhou Su nodded approvingly. “Remove the necrotic tissue and let the wound heal as gracefully as possible. That’s how we show respect for history and take responsibility for the people.”

An aide handed him an encrypted file. Zhou Su placed the file chip on the console.

“These are the celebration committee’s specific requirements, along with… an index of memory fragments that we don’t recommend analyzing too deeply,” Zhou Su said. “Will three months be enough?”