This isn’t about quantity.
This is about pattern enforcement.
“They’re forcing crisis legitimacy,” I say instead. “Create enough chaos, enough visible failure—then step in as the solution.”
“And we’re the failure,” Aaron mutters.
“No,” I correct, eyes tracking the feed. “We’re the resistance.”
Which makes us the problem.
Movement flickers across the screens—data shifting faster now, like the system is breathing harder.
Adapting.
Lark hasn’t moved.
She’s still at her station, fingers hovering over controls she hasn’t touched in thirty seconds.
Which is longer than she ever pauses.
“I can stop it,” she says.
Quiet.
Certain.
Aaron looks at her. “How?”
She doesn’t answer right away.
That’s what makes it worse.
Because Lark always has the answer.
This time—
She’s choosing whether to say it.
“By exposing the stack,” she finally says. “Publicly. All at once.”
The room reacts immediately.
“No—”
“That’s not—”
“You can’t—”
I don’t speak.
I watch her.
Because I already know what this costs.
“And what happens to you?” Aaron asks.
That shuts everyone up.
