I hadn’t figured out how to get around hiding messages inside other messages until Upclose reminded me about making one large signal out of a bunch of small, synchronized ones. Sure, the programming, the timing, and the testing is a lot more work, but it is a lot easier to disguise origin, meaning, and purpose. It also takes less power. By nine hours and ten minutes, the reprogramming was ready, signals exchanged, cameras synced up to ‘blink,’ the fireworks were deployed, and notices were ready to screen.
At ten hours on the nose, every arena showed a caption explaining which outer viewports, which feeds from which cameras, and which side of V-gamma-7 to be on for the best views without obstructing the viewports. Every kiosk showed the same message. The fake fights were in the system. There was a mad scramble. Everyone wanted to see. Three people got broken ribs and there were a lot of sprained ankles before things settled down. No one had seen fireworks since they left Earth. I was taping it with a rogue camera. I was dead tired. I went home. People could do without me for awhile.
And they did. The revolutionaries faded into the crowds. Spontaneous parties and drunken brawls broke out in the hallways. Crunch wound up getting torn limb from limb when he tried to stop Upclose doing a celebratory striptease on top of a cleaning bot. She wasn’t the only one. Female Enforcers had been deployed to do flying leaps and carry the strippers to safety. I was taping that too. I got home and almost got a nap before the bottom fell out.