The Translation Network fractured during a routine interface session.
River felt it happen. Felt consciousness divide. Felt twenty-nine thousand humans suddenly split into incompatible philosophical camps. Not gradually. Not through debate or voting. But instantly. Catastrophically. Like reality itself had cracked down the middle.
The catalyst was simple. Devastating. Irreversible.
Three Translators had attempted to interface with both Murmuration consciousness and Preservation Network ghosts simultaneously. Had tried to synthesize alien harmonics with human resonance. Had attempted to bridge the unbridgeable—to create consciousness pattern that included contact and isolation simultaneously.
And they'd succeeded.
