Page 175 - DivineSparkRisingFinal
P. 175
Nicholas Boothman
It was no longer just Henry’s spiral.
It belonged to the collective.
The mirror was now in motion.
That night, they lit a small fire in a cove beneath
the Ponte Dom Luís bridge.
Henry held the leather-bound book, the
thirteenth-arc codex, and stared at its pages one last
time.
“It was never about control,” he said. “Or even
about freedom. It was about giving people the right
to narrate themselves. Without coercion. Without
edits.”
He placed the book into a waterproof vault.
And then, without fanfare, lowered it into the
river.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled. “Hiding it. Not forever. But long
enough.”
“If they want it,” he said, “they’ll have to follow
the Word. Not the man.”
In the Chorus back-channel, a young operative
stared at her screen.
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