The Archive State has found one resident too many.
Central records say 2,418 people live in the Halden Stack.
The building insists there are 2,419.
With seven days remaining before a full civic synchronization, an exhausted Narrative Reconstruction Analyst is reassigned as temporary caretaker and given what should be a routine task: find the extra resident and correct the discrepancy.
Instead, every correction makes something else worse.
A dead man is still feeding his family. A child has three administrative fathers. A former worker's job ended years ago, but his apartment apparently missed the announcement. The lifts remember people the State does not. Entire households survive inside records everyone knows are wrong.
And somewhere inside the Stack is one resident who has been counted for decades without ever remaining the same person.
As the building begins remembering things it should have forgotten, the Analyst, UNIT-G-1PT, and seven increasingly argumentative fragments of his own mind must determine what can safely be corrected before accuracy itself starts making people disappear.
Because in the Archive State, being real is complicated.
Being correctly filed can be worse.
A darkly comic bureaucratic mystery about housing, identity, bad plumbing, worse paperwork, and the people who learn to live inside the errors.