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I uncovered this — what in the name of insider threat?!
Confess your sins. Break the code. Rat on what you found. We all want to know — and we take your privacy seriously, unlike everyone in your story.
One click. One confession. Then it burns.
What happens to your confession:
- The address was born in your browser and lives only on this page — close the tab, and it's gone. Nobody can guess it, and one telling spends it.
- One confirmation (online) or one receipt (email), then silence forever — the museum has no way back to you. Not a policy; physics.
- A curator rewrites every accepted story into fiction before it reaches the floor. The pattern of the failure is the exhibit; you are not.
Email your confession here. Feeling cautious? A mailbox that isn't your name never hurt anyone.
Sealed & burned
Your tip is in the queue — and the museum cannot come looking: nothing about you was kept.
A curator will rewrite it as fiction before it reaches the floor. If it can't be told safely, it's deleted entirely.
Another catastrophe? — or come back some other day.
(Preview: nothing was stored — this desk is running offline.)