Who said what, never lost in an inbox.

A meeting is the smallest convening there is, and the one the record loses most often. The coffee before the plenary, the call that settled the wording, the bilat in the margins: that is where positions are actually heard, and where they usually stay, in one colleague's head.

The meetings lens is a log, not a form for its own sake. Select who you met, note what was discussed and what came of it, and the minute files itself to every record in the room: theirs, yours, and your colleagues’. The next person to open Elif Demir’s card reads what was said on Tuesday, without asking who was there.

Nothing here is sent to anyone. Internal notes stay organiser-only, under the candour compact, and everything logged feeds the same map the other lenses read: the register resets her quiet flag, the analytics count the touch, and a fitted campaign lens sees the bilat land on its power map.

One minute of logging, and the whole organisation remembers.