The news station, National Prime, was not a building; it was a fortress of noise.

  The lobby was lined with screens, a mosaic of shouting faces. On every monitor, a different pundit was screaming. "They are disrespecting your heritage!" "They are stealing your land!" "Are you going to let them erase your history?"

  Elias covered his ears. The volume wasn't just loud; it was aggressive. It felt like a physical assault.

  "This is worse than the prison," Elias muttered. "At least in prison, the violence is honest."

  The Stranger looked at the screens with a mix of sorrow and disgust. "The Tower of Babel," the Stranger said. "You did not need God to confuse your languages. You did it yourselves."

  They walked past the security desk. The guards were too busy watching a breaking news segment about a "Historical Insult" to notice two men walking into the elevator.

  The Control Room

  The main studio was a hive of activity. Producers shouted into headsets, writers typed furiously, and the "Talent"—a famous anchor named Victor Cross—was getting his makeup touched up.

  Victor Cross was known as "The Voice of the Nation." He didn't report news; he manufactured anger.

  Elias and the Stranger stood in the shadows of the producer’s booth, watching the broadcast.

  "And in other news," Victor Cross said to the camera, his voice dripping with practiced concern, "unemployment numbers have reached a forty-year high. Students are gathering in the capital to demand jobs."

  Suddenly, the red phone on the producer’s desk rang.

  The Executive Producer picked it up. "Yes? ... I understand. It’s too dangerous to talk about jobs? ... Okay. What’s the pivot?"

  The Producer listened, nodded, and hung up. He shouted to the floor.

  "Cut the unemployment story! Kill the feed from the student protest!"

  "But sir," a junior writer stammered. "It's the biggest story of the year. They are united. Hindus, Muslims, Christians—they are all marching together for jobs."

  "That's the problem," the Producer snapped. "Unity is bad for ratings. And it's bad for our sponsors. We need a distraction. Switch to Script B."

  The Distraction

  On the screens, the graphics changed instantly. OLD: STUDENTS DEMAND JOBS. NEW: BREAKING: RELIGIOUS SITE DESECRATED? EXCLUSIVE REPORT.

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  Victor Cross didn't blink. He shifted gears instantly.

  "We interrupt this report for breaking news," Victor shouted, leaning into the camera. "Sources say that a group from Community B has disrespected the holy site of Community A. Tensions are rising. Are your traditions under attack? Tonight, we ask: Is this war?"

  Elias watched in horror. "He's lying," Elias whispered. "There was no desecration. He just made it up to stop them from talking about the economy."

  The effect was immediate. On the wall of monitors, the live feed from the streets changed. The students who had been holding hands moments ago were now checking their phones. They saw the news. They saw the "Breaking Alert."

  Confusion turned to anger. The flags of unity were lowered. The flags of religion were raised. The chanting about "Jobs" stopped; the shouting matches about "Honor" began.

  "They are weaponizing God," the Stranger said. The temperature in the room began to rise. The glass of the monitors started to vibrate.

  "They teach the poor to envy the neighbor’s crumb," the Stranger continued, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage, "so they do not notice the rich have stolen the entire loaf."

  The Confrontation

  The Stranger walked out of the shadows and onto the live set.

  The cameras were rolling. Millions of people were watching.

  "Who is that?" the Producer screamed. "Cut the feed!"

  But the technicians couldn't. The buttons on the control board were stuck. The cameras were locked on the man in the grey coat.

  Victor Cross looked up, annoyed. "Get off my set! Do you know who I am?"

  "I know what you are," the Stranger said. He stood in front of the news desk, blocking the teleprompter.

  "You are a shepherd who feeds wolves to his sheep."

  "Security!" Victor yelled.

  "You speak of 'Desecration'?" the Stranger asked, his voice booming through every television set in the country. "The only desecration here is the lie you just told. You divide My children to protect your masters."

  Victor laughed nervously. "Your children? Who do you think you are? God?"

  The Stranger looked at the camera lens. He wasn't looking at the audience; He was looking through the screen, into the living rooms of every family, into the hearts of every viewer.

  "I am the Truth you suppressed," the Stranger said.

  He turned to Victor.

  "You love to broadcast hate? Then let us see how it tastes."

  The Stranger touched the desk.

  The Recoil

  Victor Cross opened his mouth to shout, but instead of words, bile poured out.

  He grabbed his throat. He fell out of his chair, clawing at his chest. He wasn't having a heart attack. He was feeling—all at once—the collective rage of the ten million people he had angered.

  He felt the fear of the minority family hiding in their basement. He felt the pain of the shopkeeper whose store was burned down in a riot started by his show. He felt the burning acid of the hate he had sold for a paycheck.

  "Make it stop!" Victor gargled, writhing on the floor under the studio lights. "It burns! It burns!"

  In the control booth, the Producer fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He was feeling the despair of the students he had silenced.

  The Stranger turned to the camera. The red "On Air" light was still glowing.

  "The inspection is over," the Stranger said to the world.

  He walked over to Elias. The studio was in chaos—people screaming, crying, confessing their sins into their headsets.

  "We are done," the Stranger said.

  "Where are we going?" Elias asked, looking at the destruction of the lies.

  "To the roof," the Stranger replied. He looked up, his eyes glowing with a light that was not of this world.

  "It is time to make an announcement."

  As they stepped into the elevator, the ground shook. It wasn't an earthquake. It was a vibration deep in the crust of the planet.

  Elias looked at his phone. The signal was dead. "What's happening?" Elias asked.

  "The Quiet," the Stranger said. "The world has been talking for too long. Now... it listens."

  Status Update: I have one more chapter ready to go for tomorrow, which kicks off the Global Event.

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