"Remember," Captain Torres whispered, "we’re not changing minds. We’re seeding them to change themselves." Soldiers' fingers moved across interfaces. Attention capture. Enemy narratives drowned in noise. Torres mused, "The belief one's thoughts are one's own. Ha!" A lieutenant paused. "Sir," she asked quietly, "how do we know we’re not being operated on?" Torres smiled grimly. "That’s classified." Everyone both hunter and prey. Truly war.

Something eternal waited to be recognized. “The machine writes better than I do,” he said. She moved to the window and turned back: “Do you feel it anymore? The not-knowing?” Where in his life was the unknown? Where did he still feel mystery?