Page 39 - DivineSparkRisingFinal

Nicholas Boothman
they vote against themselves. Chorus had answers.
They said people don’t want truth. They want
direction. So that’s what we gave them. No
questions. No friction. Just slogans. Signals.
Comfort.”
Serpa’s warning echoed: circles close, spirals
move. Chorus promised direction, but what they
offered was a circle.
The voice dropped. “Then Lisbon happened.
Words slipped loose. Too clean to erase. They
spread into songs, sermons, spray paint. People
saw them, felt them, and started thinking for
themselves. That was the crack. That was when I
realized we weren’t protecting the world. We were
sedating it.”
A pause. A chair creak. “They made me a
Calador. A Husher. My job is to snuff out sparks
before they spread. Once you’ve been a Calador,
there’s no going back. But this…” the voice shook,
“this is my choice. If you’re hearing this, know one
true choice can unmake a thousand false ones.”
Click. Silence.
Henry sat in the café’s shadowed corner, the
Chorus pin cold against his palm. He stared at the
strip, then carried it to the bar and slid it beneath
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