“Carlin had it right,” he growled, beginning to pace again, agitation rising with every step.

Erik spat, voice rising. His temper snapped at the edges. “Carlin had it right,” he growled, beginning to pace again, agitation rising with every step. The manipulation wasn’t just dishonest—it was surgical, insidious. They weren’t just changing words; they were softening—essentially erasing—reality. And it made him seethe. The newscasters droned on with robotic precision, their voices eerily detached and unfazed by the cataclysm they were calmly narrating—and completely oblivious to the chaos their words would stir.