Page 314 of Reaper Said Mine

"Yeah."

The answer surprises me because it's true.

I am.

Rana nods.

"Good."

Then she claps her hands once, loudly enough to make half the room jump.

"Alright, nerds."

Heads turn.

"We have corruption to destroy."

Laughter breaks out across the room. It's small and nervous, but genuine. The tension fractures. Conversations restart. Screens reactivate. Analysts return to work. The enormous machine we've built begins moving again.

And this time it doesn't stop.

Eight hours later, I stand inside the primary broadcast center. The room resembles a military command bunker far more than a media studio. Redundant servers fill entire walls. Emergency power systems hum beneath reinforced flooring. Independent communication arrays connect to quantum relay uplinks, which connect to backup systems designed to survive sabotage, outages, and deliberate interference. Every safeguard we could create has been installed. Every distribution network we could access has been integrated. Every contingency we could imagine has been prepared.

Because suppression only works when information remains centralized.

This won't.

A technician looks up from her station.

"We're ready."

I nod.

Across the room, journalists from dozens of organizations prepare simultaneous releases. Independent networks. Major media outlets. Local stations. Civilian archives. Academic repositories. Public data exchanges. The release package has been copied so many times across so many systems that destroying it has become practically impossible.

That was the point.

Rana grins from a nearby console.

"Moment of truth."

My pulse pounds in my ears. It isn't fear. It's responsibility. The weight of knowing what comes next.

The technician raises a hand.

"Thirty seconds."

I look through the observation window. Beyond it, Guyver Station glows against the darkness of space. Ships drift between docking arms. Repair lights flicker along the station's exterior. Life continues as it always has, unaware that everything is about to change.

Somewhere on the station, Gnash is waiting.

The technician smiles.

"Broadcast live."

Data floods outward through countless communication networks at once. News organizations publish their reports. Archives mirror the files. Civilian systems replicate copies. Academic databases distribute evidence packages. Independent reporters amplify the release across every platform available. Government firewalls strain under the volume. Corporate suppression systems overload. Information spreads across hundreds of systems, then thousands, then more than anyone can track in real time.

The first alerts begin arriving less than thirty seconds later. Emergency government statements. Corporate denials. Military responses. Resignations. Investigations. Arrests. Panic. Shock. Outrage. Truth moves faster than anyone can contain it.