Back at the corp, he’d been part of the propaganda department. Noon whipped up the blinds to take in the late night vibes of his middle class contemporaries. Most of them, he thought, were probably asleep. Real people, just like him—he considered their guilt and their innocence, and drew parallels with his own guilt and innocence.

His conclusion? He came to it with a sigh and a slouch, he’d taken another of those obtuse angles. Prone and alone, he admitted to himself, “I guess I deserve this.”

In his mind, he played the role of prosecution, while the defence was totally out to lunch. He remembered, glassy-eyed, how he’d been responsible for an ad campaign painting Reese Jarrek as a philanthropic hero! Noon knew, though, that he most heinous crime was silencing the media after Sledge Rivers (intentionally) released his lab-created super virus. Guy Karde, of course, he was a maniac of equal measure—Noon Reylson blamed Section: One for destroying a residential block, when Karde’s urban warfare was really to blame.

“But, did I have any other choice?”

That lie was getting kinda difficult to swallow.