Whit sat at the computer desk, shoulders hunched forward, protecting the screen from prying eyes. That was, if they weren’t already prying. These words were dangerous. Their elaborate sequences reached out and raptured many Watchers. Watchers, by definition, were not actively involved in the evolution of humanity. They let other people do that – regardless of the ethics. But Whit’s words were enlightening them.

The words were the catalyst for many Incidents. Gleefully, followers’ had left the article’s calling card in various places; the red eye with its dripping tear duct was spray-painted onto walls, and brandished outside the clinics.

Clinics. What lies. Clinics were places of healing – these were of death. Death of innocents. Selfishness greeted these criminals at the door.

Whit’s fingers cramped. He typed. Next week’s instalment was nearly finished, soon it would be published and the Cause could beat this evil.

Knock, knock.

Who was that? Whit glanced between the door and the screen. Maybe it was a Watcher? An Ally?

More knocking. Urgent. Slowly, Whit rose, feet treading quietly on the carpeted floor. Whit turned the brass doorknob and peered out.

Shit. Police Officers. One of them began to snap on silver handcuffs. Whit tried, pathetically, to pull away from them. For the first time, Whit’s protestations were ignored. The male Officer glared.

“Whit Charaic, you are under arrest for the assault of Doctor Cho Cei -“

“That doctor deserved it!”

“- and for the bombing of the City Sexual Health and Abortion Clinic.”

Whit spat on the ground. The wad of green phlegm glistened in the sun.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” False bravado tinged the words tumbling angrily out, “It’s my life! I have my reasons!”

The female officer looked at him coldly.

“So do those women.”

Whit fell silent.