Jules watched from the same viewstation where he had approved the attack. He mostly watched, but when he looked back on it, he mostly remembered how quickly it had all happened. He remembered his feet not being sore when it was done, despite standing without shifting for the entirety of the event.

The First Public Wizard watched from less than 100 feet away from Julius’ location. He had been alerted to the incoming craft granted docking permissions where procedures had never been granted before. He had known that something was coming when less than an hour before, the same station had launched a dozen ships where none had launched before, and then another six half an hour later. He remembered the relief that he felt, finally he was not alone in the war that he had been fighting.

Grace watched with her on the ships only waystation. The event itself was broadcast by the Valuestream network itself, the first post published under Julius Paine’s account since he left on his first Sabbatical. She was surprised that there was no announcement, no explanation, just the video. No voice-over to justify or demand, just a statement of profound power that could have only come from one source.

Callisto watched from his seat on the bridge. He did not recognize the island as the link that it made to the organization that had sponsored his business after his hack. He was maybe in less awe than the rest of the world. He had seen inside Jules’s mind, or as close as a non-telepath was able to see. The code that he had unravelled had taught him that Julius Paine was not afraid of greatness, and was capable of much more than he had ever seen.

Questro and Annagail watched together, strapped to their bunk. The Creator was rising out of the last dregs of atmosphere above the Florida Peninsula when it started. They reached over to hold each other’s hands. Questro caught himself running rough calculations to understand the amount of force involved, growing more astonished by the moment. Annagail looked at her husband and felt guilt, suspecting that her husband would soon feel as well. She had given a clean bill of health to the man responsible for what she was watching.

Questro’s apprentices watched together. The three of them had been at one of their daily roundup meetings. Each had enough work and enough workers to fill their days, but had made it a matter of principle to meet. After all, they were the ones with whom Questro had entrusted his work. They watched on a large projector, switching over from their meeting agenda after being emotionally interrupted by one of Tom’s assistants. They held their peace, as did nearly the entire world, until the video stopped. Once it was over they talked for hours about the implications to their work, taking comfort in each other and the reality that their work would go on.

Castelain watched out the window of his little zero-input Faraday cage as the world and world order were overturned. Eventually his body’s shaking forced him to sit, at which point he recalled reflecting on stories his mother’s grandmother had told him about their caretaker who had tried to tame a tiger. He smiled though. He had been able to get much of the signal that they had captured from Julius Paine off the island.

The President watched the Paine stream from the Situation Room as his aides confirmed via satellite monitoring. He had been in conference since his call with Paine. They had almost decided to treat Paine as an enemy of the state regardless of his protests, and to do their best to neutralize him as soon as possible. The President had been the only one to speak while they watched, saying only, “I would be dead if he wanted it. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Lauria did not watch. She denied calls from Callisto, Questro, and Annagail. By the time her best friend on the ship bullied her way into the room and turned on Lauria’s display, the Captain had released the crew from acceleration standby. They sat together, shoulders touching; Lauria faced the door as her friend narrated. Lauria only remembered asking if people had been killed. Her friend replied that it was possible that they had not.

The Free Agent watched from a different island in the Indian Ocean, congratulating himself that he had chosen to let his subordinate Castelain convince him to monitor the situation remotely. He was one of the few people on the planet who watched more than just the video broadcast on Julius Paine’s public stream. His acknowledgement of the defeat that his organization was suffering was overshadowed by his vibrant joy that their plans had gone so well. The world would unite, either behind or against this. In all likelihood, they had just activated the strong political force the world would need to survive the transition to a truly information based economy; and of course, they had forced Julius Paine to reveal his hypocritical weapons. Now they could get to work recreating them. He still had men on the inside.

All around the world, people watched. People cheered and cried. Mostly they stood silently, echoing the silence of what they were seeing. Some who fancied themselves planners and doers scrambled to react. A few burned documents.