Zeynep arrived without announcement.
She stood in the doorway of the workshop—long coat, satchel over her shoulder, the same white gloves from before.
Ziya looked up from the bench.
— "Do we know you?"
She smiled, thinly.
— "Not really.But I know you.All of you."
Emir stepped forward.
His face softened.— "It's good to see you."
Zeynep gave the faintest nod.
— "I'm here officially.Ministry of Cultural Preservation.They've assigned me to 'observe the application phase of the Kara movement.'"
Her voice lingered on the word "application," like it tasted manufactured.
Leyla crossed her arms.
— "So… you're here to report on us?"
Zeynep's eyes didn't flinch.
— "I'm here to record what no one else will get right.Before someone else turns it into a headline."
—
She didn't ask for permission.She didn't carry a camera.
She carried a pen.A red one.
And a notebook labeled:
"Uncertified Observations – Internal Only"
Within a day, she had already cataloged:
The material history of the prototype
Arguments during design revisions
The name of the boy who accidentally called it "the thirsty machine" and made everyone laugh
The poem Derya read beside it, and the silence afterward
But more than that—she watched them.
How Ziya muttered to himself before testing voltage.How Ece tapped the corner of blueprints when she disagreed.How Leyla only drank water after it passed through the machine.
How Yusuf still hadn't smiled since the funeral.
—
That night, Zeynep stayed behind after the others left.
She approached Emir.
— "You're not documenting any of this."
He nodded.
— "I never did."
She opened her notebook.On the last page, a sentence stood alone:
"When the tools begin to sing,record the lyrics before someone else writes the melody."
Emir looked at her.
— "That yours?"
— "No.One of the first students I ever taught.She thought archives were instruments."
She closed the notebook.
— "So I'm here to play mine.Quietly.Before someone louder steals the tune."
—
"You've found your historian," Atatürk murmured in a soft dream that night."Now make sure they're never silenced again."
—
The next morning, Zeynep placed a small sign on the wall above her desk.
It read:
"This moment is being remembered.Exactly as it happened."
And everyone worked a little more carefully after that.